Turning, she changed the picture, and this was the one of her in the alley. It had been taken just as the attack started. “These are in chronological order, based on my memory. This picture and two more are from the alley, the day of the attack.” She flicked forward to the picture of Mason standing in front of and protecting her. “This is from near the end of the event.” She took a deep breath. After pausing for a moment on that image, she then flicked again to the one of Daniel carrying her. “This is the end; Daniel is about to put me in his car.” Other than her voice and the whirring of the projector fan, there was deep silence in the room.
“These were taken at the hospital.” She quickly flicked through two more photos. “These are from that night at Jackson’s, when I met you there, Daniel. They are taken from inside the bar, looks like across the room near the pool tables,” she explained as her thumb took them through more photos. “I’m not sure of the day for this one; I spend a fair bit of time on that window seat,” she said, flicking to the picture of her looking into the camera lens without knowing she was doing so.
“These are from the day of Mason’s party,” flick, “Mason’s car at the curb, downtown Chicago,” flick, “carrying in the groceries,” flick, “my back porch,” flick, “and Mason going home.” Flick. “Then, this one was from only 20 minutes before we saw these pictures up on the screen. It was taken just outside this office, but I didn’t see anyone there.”
“That’s it; those are all the photos we have. There were more, earlier, just of me going about my life. Any ideas about any of this? Because I’m about to really lose it. Some of the pictures are taken up close; some of them are from far away. Apparently, the photographer was in my hospital room while I was unconscious, and it’s not lost on me that he’s been to every place that is important to me.”
“My home, my work, my favorite bar,” she grimaced, “he’s taken photos of things that are hard for me to remember,” stealing a glance at Daniel, “and things I don’t want to forget.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then she laughed and shuddered. Daniel saw the strain in her face and heard it in her voice. He looked at Mason, and saw him looking straight at him. He was thinking he would have to own up to Mica about what he had done, but he knew Steve hadn’t taken any photos of her, so these weren’t because of his stupidity.
Making a quick decision, Daniel took out his phone and called Nate. “Hey, Nate, it’s me. Can you check the gear for me, and then make sure it gets to staging for the trip? I’ll meet you in Milwaukee tonight, but I won’t be on the bus.” Hanging up, he took a deep breath.
“Mica, do you remember my friends from Jackson’s? When we came in the night of the game? One of them, Steve Lebuvar, he’s a reporter. He was standing up at the bar that night,” Daniel thought wildly of how best to introduce the fact he had asked Steve to look into her background. “I…uh…I liked you a lot that night…I like you a lot now…really a lot.” He paused. “Mica, you need to know that I’ve been burned in the past by women who weren’t what they seemed,” he paused again, “and I simply wanted to know if there were any problems that would scare me off before I got too close to you. So, I asked Steve to get me some limited background on you.”
Looking across the table at her face, he saw the skin around her eyes go white with tension, but she held his gaze and nodded, so he continued, “He did some shallow investigation, and during that, he found there was already a P.I. investigating you, and it was not anyone he knew. It was not someone from Chicago.”
Jess twisted her chair around and kicked him in the knee with her bare toes, “Seriously? You wanted a background check? On Mica? What the hell is your problem, man? Invasive much?”
Ignoring Jess, he went on, “I can guarantee you Steve didn’t take any photos of you. I didn’t talk to him until the morning after the party at Mason’s.” His voice softened. “I talked to him after I didn’t want to leave you…after our kiss.” He took in a breath. “I don’t know who took these photos, but Mica, they are at best unpleasant, and at worst, honestly, really disturbing. I can’t believe whoever it is saw the attack and did nothing.” Daniel’s speech slowed. “The investigator seems to be from the south, and as soon as Steve told me about it, I asked him to find out what he could about the guy. I should know more by tonight. I was talking to Mason earlier today, bringing him up to speed so we could put our heads together on everything. I was on my way over here to talk to you about it, when I saw the pictures on the screen.”
He stopped talking, watching Mica slowly turn a sick shade of gray. Her mouth dropped open; it looked like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, and she’d started shaking. “Mica, are you okay?” His stomach dropped as he stood and hurried around the table. He went down on one knee, reaching for and holding her hand on top of her thigh. Her leg was shaking, and he wrapped his other palm around her calf, stroking up and down slowly. Mason stretched out and took her other hand in his as he pushed his chair closer, and the two men knelt beside her. Their calm presence was physically bracketing her with quiet assurance and support, allowing her to slowly regain her composure.
Daniel looked across her to Mason, surprised at how good he felt when he saw Mason’s approving chin lift. He liked these people, and wanted them to think the best of him, and he felt that this was an appalling start. Promising himself he would do better by Mica, he steadily held her eyes with his. Lips tilting up in a smile at her, he was glad she was calming down. He was also very impressed with how well she had handled this so far. Thinking through the whole thing, he had an idea, and without considering how it would sound, he just blurted it out.
“Mica, I don’t think you should be alone until we figure this out. Why don’t you come to Milwaukee with me for a few days? My hockey team is playing there on Saturday, and I’ll be stuck there until Sunday. The hotel room is a suite, so there’s plenty of space. You could bring your computer and work, or you could hang out with the team. Shoot, go shopping if you want—it would be entirely up to you. You could even come watch the game if you like.
“I came here because I needed to tell you what I had done, and if you found it in your heart to forgive me, I intended to ask you to the game Saturday, and then out on a dinner date. Given the circumstances, allowing for a date seems silly right now.” He stopped talking for a second, and then looking down at her, he repeated, “Seriously, there’s plenty of room in the suite; you won’t even know I’m there. Bring a guest if you want, it’s…fine. Whatever you want is fine, Mica.”
Mica smiled at him, nodding her head slowly. “I’d like to have dinner with you, if the date offer is still on the table.” And just like that, he was stunned into silence.
Mason broke the moment, his voice dangerously quiet, “I think you are forgetting something, babe—the name. The name of whoever’s fucking computer you were watching when you saw the pictures, that’s where we start right the fuck now.” Mica was silent, looking at Daniel, and then at him. Turning to glare at Jess, Mason said, “You know who it is, and you better tell me now, Jess. Tell me before…just tell me.” His voice ground to a halt. She shook her head at him, looking over at Mica in a mute plea of help.
Daniel gaped at Mason; he hadn’t seen that obvious fact that Mica had been very careful not to tell them who had the pictures, but she had to know who it was, given the situation. He wondered who she’d protect like that, and if was she protecting them from him or him from Mason.
Mica wriggled her fingers, disengaging both hands from the two men. “I know, Mason. Believe me—I want to talk to him too. Why don’t we all go together so we can find out what is going on? But—and this is a serious but, Mason—you only get to come along if you promise you will let me handle this. This is my deal. This is my shit leaking all over. These are pictures of my life, and I want to know why Gentry Dalton has them, who gave them to him, and to what end.”
***
The four of them discussed what their approach with Gentry should be. Dan
iel and Mason, unsurprisingly, were pretty adamant that there be blood and fear involved. Mica wanted to go against Mason’s wishes and advocated for a carefully chosen, non-violent plan. They were packing up in preparation for the confrontation when the door to the office opened.
Thomas Donnelly strolled into the office like he owned the place, jerking to a stop when he saw the scene in front of him. He stood still, taking in how Daniel’s hand was resting low on Mica’s back as they stood with their heads close together. Mason was a bit closer to the door, his shoulders stiff as he looked across the room at the new arrival.
Taking a deep breath, Mica moved away from Daniel and across the space towards Donnelly, her hand out to shake in greeting. “Mr. Donnelly, what a surprise. I didn’t know we had a meeting set-up today. I’m sorry; I’m not ready for a demo yet. I have a few hours of work on the software yet to do.”
“Well, isn’t this interesting?” He chuckled, rudely ignoring Mica and her outstretched hand. “I came by for a project update, and I find the soon-to-be previous owner of my hockey team.”
“Donnelly,” Daniel said by way of greeting, “still not selling the team to you, sorry to disappoint.”
Donnelly smirked at him. “Rupert, I didn’t know you used MishMash for your web work. They do a good job; you’ll be pleased I’m sure. Smart choice, the team’s website sucked ass the last time I looked at it; it’s about time for an update there, just like the team ownership. Will you be in Milwaukee for the game?” He paused, and asked slyly, “Will Amy?”
Not giving Daniel time to respond, he reached out and took Mica’s hand from where it had settled down by her side, pulling her closer towards him. “I think I’d like to take you to the game, Michaela.”
Both Daniel and Mason bristled at his words, but Mica gently slipped her hand free, stepping slightly away from him, “Thank you, Mr. Donnelly, but I have other plans. I’ll call your assistant in a few days. I should be ready to demo the software by midweek. Thank you again for coming by, and I do appreciate your recommendation of my skills and services to Mr. Rupert.” She opened the door, clearly expecting him to head out.
Nodding at Daniel, whose face had darkened during the exchange, Donnelly turned and took Mica’s hand again. “Think about the game, Michaela. Call me.” Looking back at the group, he smirked and walked to the elevator, which pinged immediately and opened.
Mica closed the door and took a deep breath, leaning her forehead against the cool wood of the door for a moment. Daniel watched her shake it off and turn to them. “Are we ready, folks?”
Jess finished packing up her computer and files; the plan was that she wouldn’t work here alone either, since the one photo had been taken right outside the office. Zipping up her jacket, she turned and nodded at Mason, indicating she was ready when he was.
33 -
Confessional
Mason thought again that it was all about control. Control your environment, and you controlled your reactions. Control the encounter, and you controlled the outcome. Choosing Jackson’s for the meet up with Dalton was the logical choice, as far as he was concerned. It put everything smack into his comfort zone, where he could be so fucking controlled no one would believe it.
He had barely kept it together at the office, and only the thought of adding to her anguish allowed him to remain calm and composed while looking at those pictures of Mica…the pictures of Mica and Daniel, those goddamn pictures…that fucking picture of him. He snarled silently, not seeing the customer, who backed away carefully cradling his drink. He saw in his mind the wall with the larger-than-life picture of him slinking out of Mica’s house, as if he was ashamed of their lovemaking.
Mason looked over at the booth where the three sat waiting. They weren’t talking, and he was shaking his head over the space carved out between each of them. You could almost drive a damn truck through without hitting anybody. He’d put his cut back on when they got to the bar, thinking it would be good for the club members and prospects to see him with his colors arrogantly on display here.
His lips pulled back in a poor impression of a smile, thinking of the trip back to the bar. When Jess had called, he had thrown the bar keys to Slate, his lieutenant. He ran out back to his bike, knowing Slate would take care of the business. Racing over to the office on the slippery streets, his mind was going a thousand miles an hour, wondering what had happened. He knew Daniel was headed over to ask Mica out, and he couldn’t imagine what had gone so wrong that Jess felt he was needed to pick up the pieces. Then he walked into that clusterfuck with the pictures, and now he was thinking it was understandable he would be somewhat possessive.
So when it came time to head back to the bar, there had been a slight misunderstanding about how Mica would get there. He had handed her the leather jacket and helmet she normally used, just as Daniel opened the rear door on his car for her. Mason had very nearly growled at him and slapped the door closed. “Put on your lid, babe,” he said to Mica in a husky voice. He did not yet trust Daniel to keep her safe.
She’d laid her hand on Daniel’s arm, giving him a quick shake of her head as she twisted her hair up and put on the helmet. “We’ll see you there in a minute,” she said softly, looking over at Jess as she slipped on the jacket, zipping up the overlapping panels in the front.
Reaching to flip the passenger pegs down, Mason straddled his bike. He stood, picking up the strain of balance with his legs, and slid the kickstand up. He held his hand out to Mica as they had done a hundred times before, supporting and steadying as she swung her leg over the back of the bike. She took her time, settling down on the small padded seat on top of the rear fender, with her feet on the pegs. With a turn of the key and a kick, the panhead engine roared to life, vibrating and rumbling loudly beneath them as Mason twisted the throttle with quick, short movements of his hand and wrist.
He watched Daniel’s car pull out of the garage, followed closely by Jess’. Mason felt himself center and calm as Mica’s thighs snugged up to his ass and her arms went around his waist, holding him loosely. Taking a deep breath, he had called over his shoulder, “Ready, babe?” and felt her helmet nod against his back as her arms tightened a little.
Pulling out of the garage carefully, Mason was watching for any cars that were too close or too attentive. Once out on the street, he opened the throttle up, quickly passing Jess and Daniel’s cars, moving into oncoming traffic to do so. His feet and hands worked in synchronization to quickly move up through the gears and catch more speed. He felt more than heard Mica laughing behind him over the noise of the pipes, feeling the shaking of her body and arms. He cocked his head over to see her face, grinning at her wide smile.
Reaching down, he snagged her joined hands and tugged forward, pulling her tighter against his back before letting her go. He slid his warm, gloved hand across both of hers, covering her hands and fingers with his broad hand for warmth. He knew how much she liked riding his bike, and the big, black and white Harley Road King Classic was a treat, whether you rode as driver or pillion behind.
Opening the throttle wider, he grinned again as he felt the bike pushing him backwards, the rear wheel digging in aggressively and squatting the bike as it hustled along. Their ride came to an end sooner than he wanted; they were back at the bar within a few minutes, and he slowed to pull into the employee parking lot behind the bar. He glided to a stop, and then walked the bike backwards. Settling into his parking space near the kitchen door, he killed the engine when they were in line with his brothers’ bikes.
Lowering the kickstand, he’d carefully helped Mica off before he leaned the bike over and swung his leg off. Without a word, she passed him back the jacket and helmet like she always did, and he stowed them in the saddlebag, where they always waited for her. Looking around the parking lot, he gazed with pride at the class of bikes parked there, and the care put into each of them. The quality and upkeep of their scooters said a lot about a club. Rebels was ran clean; they had no working girls and no drugs, bu
t everyone could still afford to own a bike they could be happy with.
Back in his head, behind the bar, Mason realized he had been wiping the same place for a few minutes while he thought about their morning. He laughed ruefully at himself and shook his head. He had been enormously relieved that Mica had ridden with him, as if nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened between them. It felt like he could breathe again and like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything with her. At least, he hoped he was reading things right.
The door to the bar dinged open, and Mason saw a tall, thin dude walk in wearing a dressy leather duster, his head swiveling until he saw Mica and Jess. Making a beeline over to their booth, he seemed surprised to find a third person there, and quickly turned back to the door. Mason had already gestured to Slate and a couple of other members, Tug and Bear, and they were standing at the outside entry, blocking the way with a wall of muscled black leather. Strolling out from behind the bar, the edges of Mason’s mouth curled up when he saw frustration on Daniel’s face. The girls had him blocked in, so he was helpless right now and could do nothing to influence the outcome of the confrontation. That suited Mason fine as he abruptly slung an arm around the shoulders of the dressy dude.
“Mr. Dalton, I suspect. I’m Davis Mason, owner of Jackson’s. I think you know Mica and Jess, and that constipated-lookin’ fella is Daniel Rupert.” He leaned down to get a good look at Dalton’s face. “Now that we’re all introduced, we have a few questions we’d like to ask you. Let’s go to the private room back here; it will be…quieter and more secluded for our discussion.”
Tugging Dalton towards the door, Mason laughed at the attempt the man made to dig in his heels. It was an action about as effective as hiding under a blanket during a tsunami. Mason neatly handled his resistance, leading the way into the small room. They’d already prepared for the meeting, pushing the tables up against the walls so there was only a single chair in the middle of the room.
Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 17
