by Sable Hunter
THE KEY TO
MICAH’S HEART
HELL YEAH! - EQUALIZERS
By
Sable Hunter
and
Ryan O’Leary
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Key To Micah’s Heart
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2016 © Sable Hunter
Cover by JRA Stevens
Down Write Nuts Book Services
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Micah Wolfe is one cocky, sexy, son-of-a-gun. He wears many hats–former intelligence officer, Equalizer, rancher, and a secret career that’s about to become public knowledge–erotic writer Don Juan. To most he seems like an open book: flirtatious, audacious, and devil-may-care. But there’s a side of Micah that he keeps locked away. He’s been hurt, suffered loss, closed away parts of his heart so no one will have the power to hurt him again. But the winds of change are blowing…
Madison Fellows is at the end of her rope. For every step forward she gains, life knocks her back two. She can’t even stay in her own apartment because she doesn’t feel safe from her flighty mother’s abusive husband. But sometimes the storms in life push us to the perfect place at the perfect time–Cinderella meets the man of her dreams when she least expects him. Madison runs to a homeless shelter where Micah is volunteering. Seeing her struggle to protect what little she has, he loans her a simple item that will become an unlikely symbol of their love. A lock. An ordinary lock.
Micah has no shortage of beautiful women; he attracts them like flowers draw bees. But there’s something different about Madison–she’s real, she’s sweet and he fast becomes addicted to her taste. Join them on their journey of love fraught with adventure, intrigue and steamy to-die-for sex. The quintessential bachelor meets the woman he can’t forget–the woman who’ll hold The Key To Micah’s Heart.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE – PROLOGUE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - EPILOGUE
About the Author
Sable’s Books
Other Titles from Sable Hunter:
CHAPTER ONE – PROLOGUE
Madison as a child…
“I thought I told you to keep your skinny little ass in the car where you belong!”
Madison cringed from the harsh words. “I just needed to talk to my mama. I’m cold.” As if on cue, she shivered, clutching the thin pink sweater to her small frame.
“Nobody cares, you ugly little twerp.” Rudy jerked opened the Camry’s rusty rear passenger door and began to shove her roughly back inside, but Madison wriggled, breaking away and running hard toward the well-lit bungalow. Loud acid rock was blaring and laughing people spilled out onto the small front porch. Her eyes darted from face to face, surely she could find her mother. “Sunny! Sunny!” Madison used her mother’s first name, thinking maybe she would be more likely to answer to it than she would the word ‘mother’.
“Not so fast!” Rudy snarled. Madison screamed when he jerked her to a halt by her long brown hair. “Your mama’s taking care of business.” Rudy tightened his fingers in the strands and twisted them cruelly, making her scalp feel like it was on fire. “She don’t need a snot-nosed clingy brat. You do know Sunny wishes she’d never got knocked up, don’t you? You’re lucky she didn’t abort you.”
“You’re wrong!” What he implied hurt Madison’s heart. With renewed determination, she struggled to free herself, doing her best to kick Rudy in the shin. “Let me go! You’re not my daddy! You can’t tell me what to do!” She refused to believe what he’d said about her mother. In her own way, Sunny loved her. Madison had to believe that, she didn’t have anyone else.
With his free hand, Rudy boxed her ear, “Thank God! Who in their right mind would want to be your father?” With a vicious yank, he pulled her around, grasping Madison by the throat. “Think again. I certainly can tell you what to do and I will.” His big hand began to squeeze and squeeze until she couldn’t draw in a breath at all. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, you’ll do what I say.”
Rudy walked her backward with his hand around her throat. Her vision was beginning to get fuzzy. Was he going to kill her? Viciously, he pushed her inside the already opened car door. “You’ll stay there, if you know what’s good for you.” Standing over her, he leered and Madison drew her knees up in front of her, making herself as small as possible. Even in the chilly air, she could detect his stink–a mix of cigarettes, booze, and body odor.
“I’m going to tell my mama.” Madison wheezed, touching her throat, which was now as sore as if she had strep throat.
Rudy glared at her with hate in his eyes. “Hell, I’ll tell her myself. Your mother doesn’t care anything about you. Nobody does.” With a hateful sneer on his face, he slammed the door hard. She barely got her foot out of the way. A chill ran over her realizing he could’ve easily broken her leg. “And nobody ever will!” Rudy yelled as he stalked toward the house.
Madison huddled in the backseat, hugging herself tightly. The realization of how alone she really was seeped deep into her bones. Brushing foolish tears from her face, she resolved to be stronger. Asking for help did no good. The only person she could depend on was herself and the sooner Madison learned that lesson the better.
Micah as a teenager…
Micah ran down the dirt road as hard as he could, his legs churning, his feet pounding on the rust colored gravel. Sweat mingled with hot tears. He was out of breath and felt sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t go home. Not now.
A harsh sob chugged from his throat. His mother was dead and his father was angry. He couldn’t do anything to please him. Nothing made sense anymore. His father’s last words to him rang in Micah’s ears. “You’re a goddamn pain in my ass, boy! If you don’t start pulling your weight around this place, you can find somewhere else to live.” Albert Wolfe had thrown a bridle he’d been mending right at Micah’s face, the buckle clipping his cheek, breaking the skin. “Maybe you can live on the street with that drug addict friend of yours. What’s his name?”
Wincing at the sudden attack, Micah covered his cheek, blood smearing on his fingers. “His name is Colton Graham. He’s not a drug addict.” Colton had problems, yes. Micah didn’t understand them very well, but he did know Colton was his friend. “When he takes his medicine, he’s just like anyone else.”
“Well, whatever is wrong with him, he’s trouble. You’ve got good friends, upstanding friends. Why would you want to hang out with that loser?” His father didn’t take the time to look at Micah again, he continued to work, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d struck his son.
Risking further wrath from his father, he said what was on his mind. This was one of his failings, Albert Wolfe reminded him of his ‘smart mouth’ often en
ough. “I like Colton, and I owe him. I owe him my life.” The older man knew exactly what his son was referring to, he didn’t have to say more. The memory of the cold waters of Barton Springs closing in over him was something Micah would never forget.
“You would’ve been fine, you’re a good swimmer.”
“I got cramps, Dad. Even good swimmers get cramps if they aren’t careful–and they can drown. It happens.” He’d read up on it since then and knew hydration and over-exertion played a big role. “If Colton hadn’t been with me, I would’ve died that day, it’s as simple as that.”
His father’s mouth pressed into a hard, unforgiving line. They’d had this same conversation too many times to count. His father was a cold man. Hard. His mother said it wasn’t his fault, it was just the way he was raised. Albert Wolfe’s own father had ruled his house with an iron fist and now his son followed suit.
“You need to spend more time with kids like Kyle Chancellor. His family are good connections to have.”
The idea made Micah’s stomach turn over. He could never see himself wanting or needing to take advantage of his friends for gain. “That’s more your style isn’t it?”
The next moment, Micah saw black spots dancing in front of his eyes, for his father had punched him square in the face. “Watch your mouth, boy.”
Backing up, Micah knew he had to get out. He had to get out before he struck his father back. He needed to be somewhere he felt welcome. Kyle and Saxon were good friends, but they wouldn’t understand what he was going through. Their fathers were nothing like Albert Wolfe and they didn’t really understand his relationship with Colton any better than his father did. Micah wasn’t stupid, he knew Colton had problems, but Colton listened to him when no one else did. He’d been there for Micah when his mother died and he just seemed to understand when Micah couldn’t talk, when he didn’t have the words to deal with all that was going on inside of him.
“Colton needs me.” Micah said, hoping his father would feel sympathy for his friend.
“Oh, really?” His father sneered. “Do you know how gay that sounds? Is that the deal? Are you two queer?”
“No!” Micah had never even thought of such a thing. He said no more, just turned his back on his father and started to run. When he finally slowed down, he found himself at Colton’s house.
Mrs. Graham saw Micah coming and let him in. “He’s upstairs.” Her expression told him that she was just grateful her son had found his way home. As his father had been so glad to point out, Colton sometimes lived on the streets. No amount of lecturing by his parents seemed to change his compulsion to break free of the family ties that sometimes bound him so tight he couldn’t breathe. That was one reason he and Micah got on so well–because Micah felt exactly the same way.
Climbing slowly, Micah tried to compose himself before he faced his friend. They were almost eighteen years old. Too old to cry. “Colton?”
“Come in.”
Micah opened the door and went in to find Colton working. The room was dark; the only illumination was a lamp on the desk. Posters covered the walls and the low beat of music made the air seem to vibrate.
“You’re writing. You’re always writing. Let me see.”
“No. I don’t think so.” Colton closed his book. “What’s wrong? Did you and your dad have another fight?”
“Yea, he’s drinking and I…” Micah spread his hands.
“You don’t know what to do.”
“No. When he gets like this, he’s mean.”
“You can stay here. You can stay with us.”
“You’re a good friend, Colton.”
“And don’t you forget it.” He teased, making Micah smile.
And he didn’t forget it. Ever.
The day Micah grew up…
Years passed and things changed for Micah. His life became more complicated than he could ever imagine. And today, a miserably cold dreary Texas day, he stood over his father’s grave and tried his best to mourn. His friends stood beside him. Kyle. Saxon. Others.
But not Colton.
Micah missed his friend. He’d lost so much in life–first his mother, then his father’s love because neither of them could get past the truth that Albert Wolfe had killed his mother as sure as if he’d shot her in the heart with a gun.
Now, his father was really gone.
Micah didn’t intend to lose Colton too.
“Hey, Micah. Why don’t you come back to the city with me?” Kyle put an arm around his shoulders. “Come stay at the house for a while. We’ve got plenty of room. Leave the ranch to your father’s men. Those guys have been doing the work so long, they don’t need supervision.”
Micah kept a room at his frat house near the UT campus. Just the thought of the noise and general rowdiness of the place seemed wrong. The Chancellor mansion would be comfortable, but Micah didn’t want to answer the questions Kyle’s parents would inevitably ask. “I think I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll try to find Colton.”
“I’m sure you’ll find him easy enough. Doesn’t he hang out under the MLK Overpass with the other homeless?” Kyle shook his head. “I’m not sure why you waste your time on that dude. He’s not good for you.”
“Careful, Chancellor,” Micah warned. “You’re sounding an awful lot like my old man.”
Kyle held up his hands. “Okay. I’ll back off. You know where I’ll be if you need me. You’re always welcome.”
“I know, thanks.” He gave Kyle a quick, hard hug. “I’ll catch you later.”
One by one, people began to file out of the country graveyard, each stopping to offer Micah condolences. He couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a tear shed at his father’s funeral. Albert Wolfe had alienated all of his friends just like he’d alienated his son.
A cold wind whipped through the bare trees as Micah made his way through the gate and out to his car parked next to the hearse. Kyle was probably right about where to find Colton. Dodging a well-meaning couple, he offered them a polite wave and closed the door behind him. Starting the engine, he let the car warm-up, turning the heater on full blast even while the air still blew icy cold. Maybe the shock would bring him out of the daze he felt himself slipping into.
The drive from Johnson City to Austin took a little under an hour. During that time, while passing fields full of cattle, vineyards and peach orchards, Micah tried not to think too much about the last few days. The shock of walking into the barn and finding his father hanging from the rafters by a rope around his neck would stick with him forever. What a coward his old man had turned out to be!
The worst horror Micah could think of would be turning out like his old man.
As he drew near the state capital, a soft rain began to fall. He hoped Colton was warm. If he wasn’t, Micah would give him the raincoat he’d worn to the funeral. Turning on the windshield wipers, he carefully wound his way off the freeway to street level. Down here, under the bridges, was a completely different world. The homeless claimed little nooks and crannies under the overpasses. Colton’s usual spot was high up an embankment with an orange tarp hanging off a hook to create a makeshift curtain, almost tent-like.
Micah climbed the ramp, having to be careful of each footfall. The concrete was slippery. “Colton?” he called. “Are you here, man?”
“Micah?”
Damn, his voice was weak. Micah ran the last few steps. The man Colton had become was nothing like the boy he remembered. This was an emaciated pale facsimile of his friend. Countless times, Micah had begged him to come and stay with him, but he always refused. Colton just couldn’t deal with his illness. Bipolar disorder was so misunderstood, even by the ones who suffered with it. When Colton took his medicine, he was as reasonable as the day was long, but when he didn’t, he suffered a rollercoaster of highs and lows.
“Hey, dude. How’s it going?”
“I’m making it.” Colton patted the cold concrete next to him. “Take a load off. Can I interest you in a drink?” He held up a thermos to
Micah, probably filled with cheap whiskey.
“No thanks, I’m good.” Noticing how badly his friend was shaking, Micah didn’t tell Colton about his father. There was no use, his friend couldn’t do anything about it and talking would do Micah no good. “Are you taking your meds, buddy?”
Colton groaned, shaking his head from side to side. “You know I hate those pills. They make me feel like shit. Hell, I can’t even laugh when I’m on that crap.”
Yeah, and he couldn’t hold a job or have a normal life without them. Even worse, was the fact that Colton tried to escape the way he felt by abusing drugs and alcohol. Caught in a deadly spiral he couldn’t control, Colton refused to accept the lifelines Micah tried to toss him. “You know you should.” The drugs were killing him–it was just a matter of time. “Hey, man. I missed you.” He tried to lighten his tone, bring a smile to Colton’s dirt-streaked face.
“Did you?” Colton asked with hope in his bloodshot eyes.
“Yea. Are you hungry? Can I go get you something to eat?”
“No, I ate at Angel House.” Colton smiled. “They’re good to me there.”
“Have you been doing anything interesting?” Micah pressed, just needing to hear his friend’s voice.
Colton swayed a bit, trying to reach behind him. “Oh, just writing. My notebooks are here somewhere.” He caught Micah by the arm, steadying himself. “There are so many stories in my head. Shit. I might be sitting on them.” Out of breath, he gave up and looked over Micah’s shoulder as if he was seeing something beautiful at a great distance. “I don’t remember things so good anymore. But I can go back and read my stories and it all seems clearer. Better.”
Micah knew how precious Colton’s writing was to him. If he thought it would do any good, he’d buy his friend a laptop. But he knew it would just get stolen or he’d pawn it. “You always were a great storyteller. Is there anything I can do for you, man? Anything at all?” Micah sat by him, finding comfort in his old friend’s presence. Even if he had to be the caretaker, being with Colton just soothed his soul.
