Mick slouched back on a burgundy suede sofa and groaned. “I need a drink.”
“You got it.” Sabra headed for the juice bar.
“Anything alcoholic.”
Sabra halted. “Mick alcohol won’t solve-”
“Dammit Sabra!”
“Alright, alright!” She cried and raced to the office door. “I don’t keep it in here.” She explained. “Lee Lee, bring me a vodka-straight.” She sent an assistant to handle the order.
Now Mick was slumped forward on the sofa. Her elbows rested on her knees and her hands were hidden in the unruly blue black curls covering her head.
“Do you know why I came to Seattle back when I first met Quest?”
“Yeah,” Sabra folded her arms over the obscenely snug capped-sleeve top she wore. “You were doing a book on the family or something.”
“Mmm hmm- a book he didn’t want me to write.”
“And?” Sabra prodded when Mick’s gaze slid off into the distance.
“And, it’s written, it’s out, your cousin has a copy and he’s furious.”
“I see…” A rare moment of speechlessness ensued for Sabra. A soft knock on the door helped her regain her composure. It was the assistant with the Vodka.
“So what now?” Sabra passed Mick the tall drink. “Did you guys have a fight?”
The clear liquid practically burned a hole in Mick’s chest but she braved the fire and downed a healthy bit. “Hmph-fighting’s not your cousin’s style.”
“Don’t I know it?” Sabra closed her eyes as if realization were setting in. “He can be one scary mutha. Everybody in the family practically jumps when he speaks- like he’s Gandhi or somebody.”
In spite of her upset state, Mick couldn’t help but laugh. Sabra not only had the gift of gab, but an intensely wicked comedic streak. Mick couldn’t put into words how much she treasured it just them. Sadly, the humor faded much too soon.
“He won’t even let me talk to him- explain…he just watched me in that angry, quiet way of his. I hate it.” She swallowed another bit of Vodka. “And I hate not having the guts to stand up to him.”
“Hell girl, join the club.” Sabra slid into a chair and threw a leg across one of the arms. “In Q’s defense though, me and my cousins practically put the crown on the boy’s head. He’s lived all his life cleaning up our messes. Lotta responsibility with no time-no one to really talk to about his own messes. He just puts that quiet guard in place and deals with it.”
“Until he just explodes?” Mick finished, taking a longer swig of her drink then.
Sabra simply shrugged.
“To hell with that,” Mick coughed on the Vodka still burning her chest and stood. “I’m not one of his screwed up family members.” She winced. “Sorry.”
Sabra stood as well. “Forget it. But you’re family sista and in Quest’s opinion that makes you just as screwed up and in need of guidance as the rest of us.”
“Damn that.” Bravely, Mick drained the contents of the glass cooler. “How’d y’all let him get away with that all these years?”
Sabra’s dark face harbored a somber expression then. After a while, she strolled toward the windows and stared out over the hectic beauty of Las Vegas. “Person comes to pull you out of the ugliest times in your life, you don’t ask for details on how he’s gonna do it. You just let him and you’re thankful he was there.”
“Well no one was there for me.” Mick had come to stare out the windows as well. “And Quest Ramsey can forget it if he thinks I fought my way through hell to give up who I became when I landed on the other side.”
~CHAPTER ELEVEN~
Sabra refused Michaela a second drink once she discovered Mick had nothing to eat since the day before. She took Mick to her suite and arranged for a hearty meal to follow. When Sabra returned to her office, she found Quest there. He looked quite at home seated behind her desk. Sabra could only stand a few moments of watching her assistants trotting to and fro doing her cousin’s bidding. The bitches never moved that eagerly for her, Sabra coldly acknowledged.
“Make yourself at home.” She slammed her office door.
“Thanks.” Quest never took his eyes from the papers he studied.
Sabra decided to help with that. She stalked over to her desk, reached across and snatched the pages from his hand.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and talk to your wife instead of snooping into my business?”
But for leaning back in the chair and massaging the bridge of his nose, Quest appeared completely unfazed. “Didn’t you call Seattle upset because you had Tesanos on your phone?”
“I called Ty.”
“Wanting her to ask us what was going on.”
“Yes. So?”
“So that’s what I’m trying to find out.” He gave a flip wave toward the papers cluttering her desk. “How thoroughly have you checked out all these new people you’ve brought on board?”
“Very thoroughly,” Sabra spoke through clenched teeth, her wide gaze impatience-filled. “Now why don’t you go upstairs and handle Mick?”
Quest stood. “I handle her just fine.”
Sabra was unfettered. “Mmm hmm and the way you’re going, you’re gonna handle yourself right out of a wife.”
“Don’t worry.” Quest stroked his jaw and moved closer to his cousin. “This isn’t you and Smoak we’re talkin’ about here.”
The words were as hard as a blow and the impact was reflected in Sabra’s devastated expression. She stiffened and looked up at the ceiling while Quest bowed his head in regret.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook off his apology. “S’okay.”
“No it’s not. This has nothing to do with you.” Quest pushed a lock of hair across her shoulder. “I really am here to help and you’re right- this is probably unnecessary. According to Pike and his dad that call had nothing to do with you.”
Sabra blinked. “They were looking for Smoak?” her voice caught a bit on the name. “Is he alright?”
Quest was already nodding. “He’s fine-talked to Quay just recently.” He watched her bracing as though she were absorbing the news and squeezed her arm. “I’m gonna get out of your way here, but we’ll talk later alright?”
“Mmm hmm…Quest? Please talk to Mick.”
“Don’t worry.” He kissed her forehead and walked out.
Sabra found no reason to put much stock in the way he delivered the phrase.
***
That evening, Quest and Mick joined Sabra for dinner in one of her hotel restaurants. Talk revisited the Tesano situation and whatever calm Sabra had been enjoying vanished like mist.
“He can’t come here. He just can’t.” Sabra’s voluminous mahogany gaze was wide with apprehension as she bumped her chin against the hands clasped tight before it.
“If he does, you’ll deal with it. He’ll be gone soon, I’m sure. You’ll survive.”
Michaela and Sabra looked over in unison toward the man calmly browsing the menu. If stares could kill, Quest would have been on the floor.
Mick turned back to Sabra and reached over to squeeze her wrist. “Though I wouldn’t have said it in a way that made me sound like such an asshole, he does have a point, Hon.”
Despite her worry, Sabra actually smiled over the quick flash of surprise and- was it, hurt? That stirred in her cousin’s dark eyes. “Thanks Mick, but…you don’t know how it went down between us. If he shows up here, it wouldn’t be pretty.” She straightened then and tossed her heavy tresses. “I’ve brought this place too far to let some old drama put a shadow over it.”
Quest set aside his menu. “Sabra, like I said-”
“Would you just shut the hell up?” Michaela’s voice was little more than a hiss.
Sabra felt her earlier amusement give way to a feeling of distinct unease. She’d seen the expression Quest now wore enough times to know that things were about to become undeniably ugly between her cousin and his wife.
Mick was already
pushing away from the table. “Good night Sabra, we’ll talk in the morning.”
“Oh Mick don’t-” Sabra replaced her word with a sigh as she watched her storm off. Before she could turn to blast Quest, he was out of his chair and storming off as well.
~~~
Mick had already detoured into a casino bar located a short distance from the restaurant where they’d dined with Sabra. She could scarcely believe those were her words at the dining table- but they were. She wouldn’t deny how good it made her feel to say them.
Quest took up residence leaning against one of the columns that lined the entryway to the tiny pub. He chose to be patient and allow her one drink- all her tolerance level could handle. Muscles flexed noticeably along his jaw when more than a few men strolled up to offer her more drinks at their expense.
Mick refused their proposals, choosing to pay for her own spirits. When she requested her third refill, Quest left his post.
Folding a hand on either side of her along the bar rim, he dipped his head close to hers. “What the hell are you doin’?”
“Drinking,” Mick offered the bartender a dazzling smile and reached for her glass.
Quest intercepted it. “You don’t drink.”
“Hmph, and you just know so very much about me, don’t you?”
Quest slammed the drink to the bar unmindful of the contents sloshing over his hand and silver wristwatch. Grabbing the back of the barstool, he whirled her around to face him.
“Damn straight, I do.”
Exotic amber clashed with bottomless obsidian as their gazes held. The emotion there quickly mellowed from anger into something more basic. Mick blinked watching his stare drop to her bosom which threatened to heave right beyond the confines of the square bodice of her knit top.
The warmth between them unfortunately iced over and quickly.
“Let’s go.” He said and moved away from the barstool to allow her up.
Setting her head at a stubborn angle, Mick leaned back against the bar rim and silently refused.
Quest moved in closer than he’d been before. “Get up or I get you up.”
Try it was on the very tip of her tongue. She was almost mad with the need to have it all out right there and be rid of what felt like a year’s worth of tension. Across Quest’s shoulder though, she noticed a few men looking curiously upon them. She remembered what he’d done to her gazebo and knew he’d tear into any well meaning rescuers like fire into paper.
Of course, she intended to hold onto some shred of badness and wrenched her arm from his hand when he meant to help her from the stool.
***
If Michaela had ever wondered whether Quest’s chivalry was genuine or a put on to get her into bed, then she had her answer when they returned to the suite. In spite of his mood; which even his cool demeanor couldn’t hide, he remained the gentleman.
Michaela bristled when he pressed a guiding hand to the small of her back as she preceded him through the door. Mick wanted to kick herself for feeling even the slightest tingle at his touch. No surprise she couldn’t help it. She missed him in every way.
They passed through the elaborate quarters in silence. There were still a few things Mick wanted to unpack and she set off to do just that. When Quest walked into the bedroom twice only to leave each time without so much as a grunt in her direction, Mick felt her temper rise. When he grabbed the blanket and extra pillow from a closet; with clear intentions of sleeping on one of the sofas in the other room, she’d had enough. She was sick of being looked through-ignored. Wicked juices flowing rampant, she was intent on stirring an emotion from him other than the quiet passive anger he’d perfected. As her stunt in the bar hadn’t elicited quite the reaction she’d wanted, Mick decided to resume their dinner conversation when he returned to the bedroom to find sleepwear to replace the clothes he’d worn that evening.
“Gosh Sabra’s so worried,” Mick sighed without looking her husband’s way. She pulled a few frilly pieces of lingerie from an overnight bag and laid them across the armchair nearest the bed. “In spite of what happened to Houston and Daphne, I honestly don’t think she’s in any mortal danger but it’s easy to see she’s most preoccupied by Smoak Tesano. Their relationship must’ve been quite…explosive.” Idly removing the toiletries that lay in the bottom of the case, Mick noted Quest watching her and smiled. “I don’t think she’s got anything to fear from Smoak- least of all Smoak.” Her heart lurched when his voice filled the room.
“As usual my cousin isn’t thinking straight.” He tossed his sleep clothes into the open suitcase nearby. “All she sees is the surface appeal of handling things her own way without taking into consideration all the side effects.”
“That a subtle dig at me Quest?”
“I don’t know,” he slammed down the top of the suitcase then. “Maybe I should give subtle a try since my telling you outright to forget that damn book didn’t seem to work.”
“Told me outright?” Mick spat, whirling around to face him. Her exotic ambers glazed over with anger and disbelief combined. “You’re my husband Quest. Not my father. Don’t ever forget that. I’m your wife, not your brother or your cousins who need the benefit of your exquisite wisdom.”
“So what you’re telling me is that my concerns over you publishing this thing are unfounded?” The maddening cool of his voice was undeniable.
Mick was too angry to care. “Dammit do you need me to beat you over the head with it? Yes! That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”
“Yet you decided to go behind my back to get this done- even though my concerns were unfounded?”
“Because you stifled my handling it any other way! Jesus, why are you being so obtuse about this?”
Quest squeezed his darkened eyes shut then and forbid himself to massage his arm. He was being obtuse- frustration over so much…not to mention the fact that he was practically blind with need for her. God, he had to get out of there…
Michaela didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she heard him slam the suite’s front door on his way out.
~~~
The room was quiet when Quest returned an hour later. It was either go back and face his wife or drown his sorrows (and guilt) in drink- a ton of it. His nostrils flared when her perfume led him toward the bedroom. Leaning on the doorjamb, he watched her sleep for a couple minutes before trudging over. He eased down on the bed and toyed with the hair framing her face in midnight ringlets.
Michaela shifted, murmuring something incoherent as she turned to her side. Deftly, Quest trailed the back of his hand along her bare arm which rivaled the satin sheets upon the bed for softness. The room was practically dark, lit only by the shallow light spilling in from the hallway. He didn’t need light to guide the trail of his hand which strolled the bend of her elbow before venturing off to outline the curve of her breasts beneath the T-shirt she’d worn to bed.
Mick’s incoherent murmurings took on the sound of moaning and she reached for him in her sleep. Her brow furrowed seconds before her lashes stirred and she gasped at the sight of him there above.
“Quest,” her voice was low, flavored with uncertainty.
He snapped to and made a move to pull back but her grip on his wrist then was surprisingly strong.
“Mick…” Quest tried to tug his hand free, halting when she scooted close to trail her mouth across his wrist, forearm and higher still. Soon she was inhaling the scent of cologne against his neck.
“Quest please…please I miss you.” She nibbled his earlobe amidst the confession. “Don’t go,” she straddled his lap and cried out when he suddenly clutched her waist and locked his hand around her neck to keep her still for a plundering kiss.
Mick whispered her approval and began to grind on the power swelling below his waist. Her tongue stroked his, along the ridge of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Her heart beat double time when he weighed and squeezed a breast while gripping her bottom to control her movements on his erection. She could ha
ve climaxed from the sheer pleasure of his arousal nudging her aching sex.
She wanted more of course. Hell yes, she wanted more- much more and that was the problem. The communication they shared had been terribly damaged and she wanted back every bit of what they held dear before things had gone so wrong. Dismayed by the fact that her wants might be impossible to attain, she did the unthinkable and pulled his hand from her neck.
The resulting silence spoke for itself. Quest was too stunned to stop her and could only watch as she left the bed and ran from the room.
***
The next morning found Mick standing in speechless wonder as she surveyed the space before her eyes. The studio was grand to say the least with a never ending line of mirrors encasing the walls in glass wonderland.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Sabra stood leaning against the door. A knowing smile curved her full mouth. “I figured you could use a break and the time to let off some steam.” She pushed off the door and somehow eased both hands into the back pockets of her very snug-fitting jeans.
Mick gave a slight twirl when she reached the middle of the dance studio. “This is incredible…” her voice sounded awe-filled.
“I guess it’ll do.” Sabra began to eye the room skeptically. “But I’m willing to bet a kickboxing class would serve you better. You’d probably get a greater workout by pasting my cousin’s face to a punching back and beating the shit out of it.”
“No Sabra, this is what I need. What I’ve been missing.” Mick confessed even as she slid the woman a wickedly amused look.
“Well then, I’ll leave you to it.” Sabra clapped her hands once and headed for the doors. “Out of all the practice areas here, my dancers swear by this one, so the place is all yours for the morning.” She called cross her shoulder.
Alone, Mick basked in the silence and solitude the sound proofed space provided. In spite of the room’s promised serenity, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from shifting to Quest. For what had to be the fiftieth time, she cursed herself for turning him away the night before. What was she thinking? Her skin still tingled from the glide of his fingertips against it. She was hoping to make a statement. In the harsh light of day however, she admitted that she couldn’t have picked a worse time to make it.
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