Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5)

by Adrienne Giordano

“Owen said it’s an information case, rather than an indictment. If I plead guilty, the case doesn’t have to go before a grand jury. No trial.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  Did he have six months? Even then she wasn’t sure she’d truly understand her own feelings. “I’m…conflicted. Not about pleading guilty. That’s a weird relief. To just be done with it. But I'm hung up on being a squealer. Phil calls them rats.”

  “Uh, Phil is an asshole.”

  “I know. But he’s been my asshole for ten years.” She waved it off. “As much as I hate the idea of cooperating, I love it, too. For the first time, I can see a way out. A chance to live my life the way I choose.” She finally sat up and met his gaze. “I want that.”

  I want you. She couldn’t say it. Not yet. One thing at a time, because if she went to jail, she didn’t anticipate Captain America waiting around for his convict girlfriend.

  He ran one finger down the side of her face and over her jaw. “For what it’s worth, not a lot of eighteen-year-olds would have made the sacrifice you did. I’d say you deserve to live your life the way you want.”

  “I wanted to save my brother.”

  “And you did. It’s time to let it go. If that means cooperating with the feds, you do it. Your family will support you.”

  “What about you? Will you support me?”

  “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

  Yes. He was. Gage Barber. Honorable, heroic. The light to her darkness.

  Crazy.

  She leaned in, kissed him gently, let her lips linger. “Thank you. You’re…amazing.”

  “Honey, you’ve spent too many years around scumbags. But thank you.” He kissed her again, then sat back, his mind clearly working on something.

  “Gage, what’s bugging you?”

  “Thinking is all. What happens after you plead guilty? I mean, you’re cooperating, but plenty of cooperating witnesses serve jail time. What’s the prosecutor recommending as far as sentencing?”

  That was the second half. The gamble. “Owen said after the proffer agreement, if I’ve fully cooperated, the US Attorney will write a recommendation letter to the judge. It’s called a Five K letter and it outlines everything I’ve done to assist the government. At that point, the judge decides my sentence. He can give me probation or…” She dipped her head. “Or send me to prison.”

  “What does the lawyer think?”

  “He thinks I could get probation.”

  “Phil would be locked up and you’d be free. Sounds like a win-win.”

  Of course it did. Only, Micki hadn’t experienced a lot of win-wins and when it came to Phil, she wouldn’t count on anything. “Phil has a far reach. Prison won’t keep him contained.”

  “He won’t get to you. I can promise that. With the resources you have behind you, you’ll be safe.”

  When Gage said it, she believed it. But was that all starry-eyed want? The fairy tale she’d never gotten. Prince Charming and all that bullshit.

  For her.

  Why not?

  “You think I should do it?”

  “I do. Unless you can come up with another way to get rid of Phil, if you want your life back, it’s the only option. Running is off the table, right?”

  Staring at this man, listening to him talk about keeping her safe, running was most definitely off the table. “Yes. That idea came from desperation. He’d either find me or I’d be on the move constantly.”

  Fucking Phil. Once again backing her against a wall.

  She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do it anymore. She’d given him way too much of herself. It had to stop. All the hiding and secrecy. If she took the deal, though, she’d be forced to admit her guilt and make amends.

  It’ll gut me.

  Was it such a bad thing? To be rid of all the pent-up shame and rebuild herself? Maybe, if she got really lucky, Gage Barber could be part of the renovation.

  She studied the wall straight ahead where the seams from a bad patch job—one of Britt’s early attempts—made her smile.

  “See that wall? Grif put Reid’s head through it one night and Britt tried to patch it before Mom got home. Poor Britt, always fixing everyone’s problems.” She swung back to Gage. “Kinda like you.” She patted his leg, leaned over, and pecked his cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “For helping me. For being my sounding board. I’ll do it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need a fresh start and this will get it for me.” She lifted her chin and smiled up at him. “It’s no fairy tale, but hey, I’ll get to be a Queen for a Day.”

  Gage watched Micki put on her show. Her I-can-do-this show. This girl—woman—had lived one hell of a life so far. “You know,” he said, running his hand over the side of her head, “you told me I was amazing. Really, I think you’re the amazing one. Look at what you’ve done. What you’re about to do. That takes a spine. You could be on the floor wailing about the injustice of it all, but not you. You own it. I love that about you.”

  Love. That sneaky little word didn’t enter his vocabulary too often. By his way of thinking, all kinds of love existed. Sibling love, parental love, romantic love. That last one had eluded him most of his thirty-one years. He never minded. If it happened, it happened. Now, though, looking at Micki Steele, he might have lost his mind because romantic love didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

  His mother would lose it. Hey, Mom, meet my hacker girlfriend who’s spent the past ten years breaking a multitude of federal laws.

  Jesus.

  In front of him, though, Micki’s lips spread into a flashing smile that was apparently cemented into Steele family DNA. They all had that spark. And it was killer.

  He reached his fingers up, dragged them under her chin, along the silky skin there, heating up the space between them. He loved touching her. When he touched her, something changed. The hard edges smoothed out and the hyper-standoffish Micki softened, yielding just enough to let him believe that he made a difference in her life. Micki, Micki, Micki.

  “Gage?”

  He stopped his exploration and flattened his hand, curving his fingers over her neck and stroking her hammering pulse with his thumb. But his eyes were on her lips, and his brain? Well, that horny bastard was busy coming up with all the things he wanted to do with those lips.

  “Gage?”

  He snapped his gaze to hers.

  “What?”

  “Is it crazy for me to want you inside me?”

  “Is it crazy for me to want to be inside you?”

  That earned him another small grin, but he’d gotten to know her cues, that little tell in the way she drew her eyebrows together, that something was up with her.

  “I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” she said.

  He dipped his head, ran his lips over hers, dotting kisses along her jawline to her neck, his tongue flicking over the delicate spot behind her ear. “Honey, it’s a little late for that now.” She tilted her head sideways, giving him more access. “Atta girl,” he said.

  Her arms came around him, pulling him closer—breasts, legs, all of her flush up against him—and his erection said hello in the most obvious way possible.

  “Mmm,” she said. “You feel good. Everything about you. I don’t deserve you. I’ll never deserve you.”

  Before he could argue, she kissed him. Absolutely fucking mauled him. With her tongue, her hands, that crazy lean body that was all legs and made him constantly imagine her wrapped around him.

  Levering off the couch, he scooped her up, tucked her legs around him and carried her to the stairs, tripping on the first step but catching them both before she clocked her head. Gently, he lowered her to her back. Right on the goddamned stairs.

  She went to work on his shirt, lifting the hem as the tips of her fingers connected with his stomach.

  “Keep that up and we won’t make it to the bed. Again.”

  “I don’t care.”

  She bucked her hips, se
nding him into another crazy wave of lust. As much as he wanted to pound himself inside her, he wouldn’t do that. The first time he’d nailed her against a wall. This time, they’d get to his bed.

  Even if it killed him.

  “No,” he said. “You're about to have a long night. I want you comfortable.”

  18

  Comfortable? The man had to be joking. One thing she could honestly say, with the steam roasting her from inside out, she was far from comfortable.

  He picked her up again, effortlessly carrying her gangly body upstairs, and as nice as a bed sounded, she was about to burst. Just come right out of her skin. She reached down, cupped his crotch where his monster erection waited for her.

  All mine.

  He halted mid-step, grabbed onto the handrail and tipped his head back, moaning as she stroked him through his jeans.

  “Jesus, Micki. Are you trying to kill us?”

  “If it gets you inside me, yes.”

  He let out a little moan and his face melded into a strained look of concentration. She rocked her hips, loving the feel of all that hardness, imagined him sliding into her, making her feel what she’d felt the other night.

  The connection. The acceptance. He knew her secrets. A lot of them anyway, and he still wanted her.

  “If you’re going to be stubborn,” she said, “get moving. Otherwise, I want you to screw me right on these steps.”

  He met her gaze, those blue eyes scalding hot as he trudged up the last few stairs. “Not on the steps. But I’ll touch you everywhere, find every spot that makes you come apart. You know that, right?”

  Every spot? Even she didn’t know all of them. There’d never been a man around long enough, who cared enough, to take the time to discover them.

  “Captain America,” she said, “I would welcome that.”

  He kicked the bedroom door open, took four steps and tossed her on the bed. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

  He ditched his shoes then pulled his shirt off, exposing all the yumminess underneath. The coiled muscle of his arms, the cut of his abs and chest. The blond hair that ran in a line down the center and dipped below his waistband. Micki licked her lips and he watched the motion, the slow slide of her tongue.

  “Dream on. I will never beg you to stop. Never.”

  She sat up, kicking off her shoes while unzipping his jeans and sliding them and his boxers down, down, down. Hello. His erection, every giant, fabulous inch of it, sprang free and her breasts tingled, anticipating that moment when he’d be inside her.

  While he stepped out of his pants, he yanked on her zipper. The two of them wiggled her free and all of a sudden, in a frenzy of activity, she was peeling off her shirt as he dug through his nightstand. Hopefully for a condom. Or many condoms.

  He lifted a box out—yay—and set it on the table.

  “Let me,” she said.

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s a fantasy. Some people want to swing from chandeliers. Me…” She shrugged, half embarrassed by the admission.

  He handed over the condom. “Have at it. It’ll be a first for both of us.”

  At that, she smiled, plucked the foil packet from him and tore it open. The second her fingers touched him, he sucked in a breath, but she continued on, drawing the rubber over him, taking care not to rip it.

  “Jeez, Micki. Way too slow.”

  Not bothering to hide her silly grin, she looked up at him. “I’m so crazy about you. Around you, I’m…special.”

  Condom on him, she let go and lay back on the bed, drawing one leg up and holding her arms out, opening herself to him as he lowered on top of her. He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips as she wrapped herself around him, pulling him closer.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She looked up at him, met his gaze and held it, took in his smile and the lightness she saw in his eyes. Then he did it, just slid into her with one hard thrust, and she cried out, loving the feel of him pushed so far inside her. She opened her legs wider, rocking her hips and guiding him deeper.

  Please.

  She’d never get enough. Never.

  He pulled out and she locked her legs around him, waiting for him to enter her again. And again, and again.

  I want him.

  Always. She clamped her hands on his ass, held him in place and ground her hips, giving as good as she got.

  “You are wicked,” he said.

  “I want you to lose control. I want to see it.”

  “Keep that up and it won’t be a problem.”

  She let out a laugh, enjoying the playful, unfiltered moment, and he pushed deeper inside her and—oh, wow. Wow, wow, wow.

  She reached behind her head, gripped the pillow as she rocked her hips, and her body morphed into a coiling rope of tension. He picked up the pace, perfectly reading her signals.

  “Here it comes,” she said. “Please. Oh, please.”

  She wanted this. Wanted to feel that rush, that insane moment when she let her world blow apart like she never had before.

  Finally, she closed her eyes, let the light show take hold as the tension built. Higher and higher she went, and Gage thrust and pulled back and thrust again and she cried out, a low guttural sound as the orgasm ripped her apart. The release came fast. A massive rush—too damned fast—that left her skin buzzing.

  She slowed her breathing, forcing her body to relax and extend the euphoria.

  Not done yet.

  She reared up, rolling him to his back, intent on giving him the same insanity he’d treated her to.

  He gripped her hips, guiding her along, showing her the pace he wanted. He flattened his hands against her breasts, then squeezed her hyper-sensitive nipples and she knew, before this was over, she’d come again.

  She leaned forward, still using the motion he wanted, and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth. His fingers locked onto her hips, digging into her flesh as he moaned.

  He tore his lips away, lifted his hands to her face, his eyes on her as his own release hit him. He bucked under her, driving, driving, driving, one last time, howling her name before he collapsed under her.

  “Is it cliché to say I’m starved?”

  Micki grinned up at Gage, burrowed further into his side, and eased her leg over his. If she could stay like this, happy and content over a simple thing like spending time with a man, she’d do it. Just stay in bed, with Gage, forever.

  When she didn’t answer, he lifted his head. “Micki? Everything okay down there?”

  “Everything is great.” She snuggled closer. “Sorry. I was daydreaming. I’m hungry, too.”

  “Eat out? Or in?”

  “In.” She looked up at him, ran her hand over his chest, twirling her fingers in the fine blond hairs. “Could we watch a movie? For ten years I’ve watched movies alone. Now I’d like to try doing it with you.”

  Another new experience she’d enjoy with Gage.

  He kissed the top of her head and rolled sideways. “Good plan. I have menus downstairs. We’ll order and see what’s what on cable.”

  Cable.

  A memory of last Christmas at Phil’s house popped into her mind. His kids had been teasing him about his tendency to call Netflix cable. For whatever reason, he couldn’t grasp the concept of Netflix. Silly memories. The good ones she’d hopefully remember by the time this was all over.

  Cable.

  Naked as a newborn, she sat up.

  Cable. The e-mail from Phil. Whoa. She tossed the sheet back, jumped out of bed.

  Gage kept his eyes on her as she whipped her clothes off the floor, gathering up her underwear, searching for her bra, then giving up and just shoving her arms into the first shirt she grabbed. Gage’s.

  He followed her out the door as she ran for the stairs. “What’s up?”

  “I need my laptop.”

  “Okay. That, I’ve never heard from a woman after sex.”

  “The e-m
ail Phil sent me the other day, the one with the video, it came from his personal account.”

  “And?”

  “His personal account is through his cable company. The number one cable company in Nevada.”

  “Alrighty. I have no idea why that should be so exciting.”

  Her brain racing, she reached the stairs and inhaled, forcing herself to settle down. The fresh scent of her mother’s detergent registered. “Tell me my mother does your laundry.”

  “Hell no. I just like the smell of her soap so I use it.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  He laughed. “Would that be a deal breaker?”

  “I don’t know.” She flapped her arms and hopped off the last step. “I've never been interested in a man my mother does laundry for.”

  “Micki, what’s up with this e-mail from Phil?”

  “It’s not the e-mail itself, but the cable company. There’s a lot of information that can be garnered about people. Particularly if that company handles the phone lines.”

  “You hacked the cable company?”

  “I’m not proud of it, but think about it. Porn rentals, online activity, phone calls to mistresses. It’s a gold mine for a guy like Phil.”

  She snagged her backpack from the floor. “Phil likes to e-mail himself files. He hates dealing with thumb drives. If I know him at all, I’d bet he had someone e-mail him a zip file with the video of Jonah leaving the room the night of the rape. He probably edited it down so he could send it to me in clumps.”

  “You think you can retrieve the full video?”

  “Hoping so. Combine that with Tessa telling the DA or the US Attorney or whoever the hell would handle the rape case that Jonah helped her, and we can clear him.”

  “It’ll destroy Flynn’s leverage.”

  Micki dug her laptop from her backpack, set it on her mother’s old coffee table, and parked her butt on the couch. “Yep.”

  “It’ll also piss him off. You ready for that?”

  No one could ever be ready for that. “Do I have a choice?”

  Assuming it to be a rhetorical question, Gage let it linger, but sat down beside her. After dealing with a pesky password issue, she logged into the cable company’s server and went to work. Within minutes, she brought up Phil’s e-mail account. First things first. She clicked on the tiny gear at the upper right.