Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  When the car doors opened, he stepped in front of her, going into the car first and then stood near the control panel. “Where to, ma’am?” he asked, his finger poised over the buttons, and she noticed he had Live free tattooed on his knuckles. There were the edges of tattoos peeking out from underneath his cuffs, too.

  “You can’t go with me. Don’t you need to stay in the foyer?” She was puzzled at his abandonment of what she had come to think of as the bodyguard’s post.

  “Ma’am, I go where you go,” he said simply, “so where are we going?”

  “Is this Daniel’s doing?” she asked, her voice rising irritably at the end.

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. My orders come from Mason.” With this, he grinned at her, spreading his hands wide. “Please don’t make me look bad in front of the Prez; I’m just a prospect.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” she muttered. “Push for the lobby. I want a drink,” she looked at him hard, “and stop calling me ma’am. I can’t be much older than you are.” She turned to face the front of the elevator. He pressed the appropriate button on the panel and stepped into the center of the elevator. His movement forced her to take a step back and put him squarely between her and the door. “Jeeze-oh-PETE,” she said under her breath again. Looking up into his face with its dark, scruffy beard and high cheekbones, topped by a head full of dark, short hair, she asked, “Hey, you, mountain man—what’s your name?”

  ***

  Seated by herself at a table near the back of the lounge, Mica watched as another man turned away from approaching her, and knew that Kevin had probably shaken his head at him…or maybe he had simply turned his head to show the tribal tattoo on the side of his face…or more probably, he had scowled the guy into submission. The mountain had been doing that for nearly two hours, not-so-subtly discouraging would-be visitors with his fierce protection of her.

  “Kevin, you need to stop that,” she said over her shoulder to the wall of muscles behind her. “Maybe I wanted to talk to that one, hmmm? He was pretty brave; he got within 20 feet, after all.”

  He grinned at her, shaking his head. “No, ma’am, not that one.”

  Sipping what she thought might still be her second glass of tequila, or maybe her third, she grinned. She had actually been pretty impressed with Kevin’s unruffled attitude all afternoon. She liked him; he was quiet and calm, and she couldn’t be angry with him. Now Mason, that was another story; she could be riled up at Mason. After all, he was the one that sicced Kevin on her in the first place.

  Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, simultaneously announcing a text and startling the heck out of her. She’d forgotten about bringing it down with her. She noticed Kevin had shifted his stance; he was on the balls of his feet, tense and hovering over her now, and he was looking hard at something across the room.

  Ignoring him, she pulled the phone from her pocket to read the message, and saw WHERE ARE YOU? from Mason. Awww, how cute, the man knows how to text in all-caps, she thought. She could almost hear him yelling at her. She typed in, Drinkin’—you? and hit send, giggling.

  “Uh, ma’am,” Kevin said in a warning tone as both their phones went off at nearly the same time. She had a new message from Mason, and one from Daniel.

  “I have a two-fer; how about you?” she asked Kevin, and he watched her scroll to see the message contents. From Daniel, she’d received a pleasant, I’m back. Are you in the lounge still? and from Mason, a more demanding, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

  “What did yours say?” she asked Kevin, who responded, “Just one word from Mason, ma’am—‘where’. I let him know we’re here in the lounge.”

  Idly, she said, “Don’t call me ma’am.”

  Mica created a group text, sending the same message to Mason, Daniel, and Jess at the same time. I’m sitting in the lounge with a huge mountain, who won’t let anyone talk to me. I think I’m okie-dokies. She hit send, giggling again. Looking down at her phone, she didn’t see the crowd parting across the room, and she missed Kevin taking a step back at the sight of Mason barreling towards her table. Kevin cleared his throat loudly, and she looked up to catch Mason’s eyes. She smiled at him, which served to slow his step, and fairly effectively disarmed his rant before he even began.

  Arriving in front of her, Mason nodded at Kevin. She smiled as Mason leaned across the table and clasped his forearm in a strong shake, letting Kevin know he had done well. Mason grabbed a chair and turned it around to sit down facing her. He sat with his arms crossed on the back of it, and his back to the room. Mica knew he was making a statement that he trusted Kevin to watch his back.

  “Babe?” He filled that one word with his fear and anxiety for her, breathing out deeply.

  “Oh, stop it, Mason,” she chided. “Kevin has done a great job of keeping me company, even if he did nearly ‘ma’am’ me to death.”

  He looked up at the man behind her, questioning, “Kevin?” and raising one eyebrow.

  Looking somewhat sheepish, Kevin said, “That’s my given name, Prez. I prefer Meek around the club.”

  Mica clapped both of her hands over her mouth quickly, giggling madly as she twisted in her chair to look up at the big man behind her. Struggling to regain her self-control, she peeled her hands away slowly as her laughter slowed. “Your biker name is Meek?” Her hands flew up as she went off into peals of muffled giggles again. “Meek? Oh, Kevin,” she said, “you are anything but meek. The way you scowled so professionally for hours in order to protect my virtue—not meek.” Giggling madly, another, “Meek,” was followed up by more uncontrollable laughter, and Meek was finally beginning to look less calm and quiet. “Meep, Meep,” she forced out, before laying her head on the table in helpless hilarity. “Oh, God, make it stop.” She attempted to sober, saying, “I, Mica Scott, do hereby dub thee Road Runner.” She visibly held her breath, turning bright red before she lost control again, and more giggling was followed by a frantic repeat of, “Meep, meep.”

  Rolling his eyes at her, Mason gave her a few minutes to compose herself. He listened with a grin as her giggles would trail off, getting slower and slower until he could hear one more faint, “Meep, meep,” from behind her hands, and it would set her off again. He picked up her glass and finished off her tequila, looking away and grinning as he heard another, “Meep, meep,” and more breathless laughter.

  “Gotta get you a different patch now, Road Runner. We’ll need to pick a new color for this one; it’s a first.” He dragged the bottom edge of the empty glass through the condensation on the tabletop, and then spoke without looking up. “We’ll patch you in at the next meeting, man.” Cutting his eyes upward to see the scarlet color of the man’s face, he said roughly, “We’ve never had Mica name anyone before; I hope you understand the fucking honor paid you. Welcome, brother.”

  Road Runner frowned, and then smoothing his features, he nodded. “I do, Prez. Thanks, brother.” Thumping his chest hard with his closed fist, he repeated the words Mason had used when he was given the task of watching over the club’s princess. “A fucking treasure.”

  Mason stood, looking down at the giggling woman sprawled like a limp rag in the chair across from him. “Babe, you walking, or am I totin’ you?” She flipped a hand at him, picking her head up off the table. He walked around the table, putting a firm hand underneath Mica’s elbow, helping her stand. Turning to look at Road Runner when she was on her feet, but wavering, he asked with a raised eyebrow, “She have two, or three?”

  “Four,” came the terse answer, and Mason nodded.

  “I got you, babe,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the exit and the elevators.

  She burst into a fresh bout of hysterics, then poorly attempted to sing, “And when I’m sad, you’re a clown, and if I’m scared, you’re always arooound! I got you, babe!” She hiccupped and seemed to sober for a moment at the line that’d drunkenly popped into her head, and looked up into Mason’s face to tell him, “Wow, that’s so freak
in’ true. You’re like my Sonny. That’s gotta be our song, Mase.”

  He smiled down at her, pushing some strands of hair out of her face as the elevator doors opened, and then helped her inside. “Whatever you say, babe, but no fucking pet names. I ain’t a can of pepper spray,” he growled the last part, and she fell out of her sobered state, back into her uncontrollable giggles.

  Back in the suite, Daniel was working, so Mica napped on the couch with her head in Mason’s lap. At least, she napped until Jess and Brandy got too loud arguing about what to make for dinner. She sat up, blinking and pushing her hair off her forehead. “Feel better, girly?” Jess laughed. “Whatcha want for dinner? We can’t decide, because I want junk, but Brandy wants healthy, and we aren’t asking the guys.”

  “Lasagna, salad, wine…a meal that rides that jagged line between bad for you and good for you,” Mica shook her head, “but no wine for me.” Laughing at herself, she stretched and stood up. “Let me help.”

  After dinner, Mason, Daniel, Mica, and Jess sat along the four sides of the dining room table arguing. Brandy had grown tired of it all and was reading in bed, which was just as well, because with the group currently in the room, she would never have gotten a word in edgewise anyway.

  Smacking her palm on the table, Mica said, “No, no, no—I already told you; the pictures didn’t have any identifying information on them, just the camera type, day, time, and location they were taken. They were taken on two different cameras, but all within a two-week period though, which tells us Ray hasn’t been in Illinois long. Why don’t you look at the files if you don’t believe me?”

  Jess rolled her eyes at Mica. “Shut up…I believe you. I brought the files to you, because you have that forensic training, not me, but we don’t know Ray was the one taking the pictures. I mean…do you remember him as being the patient type, waiting around on the sidelines for weeks?”

  The argument had gone back and forth between them for several long minutes now, getting more and more tense. Of the people in the room, Jess was the one who knew Mica best. She was the only one who’d been there from the beginning to watch as Mica started the long rebuilding process of self and life after breaking away from Ray.

  Jess kept talking, “I don’t fucking think so, and I don’t think he’d been in town for two weeks. I think Michael told your dad where you were, and your dad told Ray. I think Ray had Michael setup the kidnapping, and when that didn’t work, he hired someone to follow you around. Ray knew Peters lived in Chicago, so he used him to scope you out. He’s learned enough about you to know about Gentry. I think Ray is dangerous, and we need to know where the fuck he is!”

  Shaking her head, Mica chewed on the side of her thumb. “I’m not seventeen any more, Jess. I can handle this differently. I can get a restraining order, get an alarm—heck, I can get a freakin’ dog if it’ll shut you up. It’s different now. I am different now.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jess jeered, “Tell me about the nightmares, then, sugar. I heard you last night, and I know Daniel had trouble calming you down. Tell me how often you’ve had them in the past two weeks…and then tell me true how often you had them a year ago.”

  Mason looked at Daniel, who nodded, mouthing, “It wasn’t bad,” at him across the table.

  Mica watched this exchange with pursed lips, and her anger overflowed. “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not sitting right here!” she yelled, slapping her palms on the tabletop. “You think I don’t know what you think of me? How fragile you all think I am? How frail and pitiful little Mica is? ‘Oh, no, poor Mica, her life has been so hard. Let’s coddle her and take all the hard decisions away.’ Freakin’…just…jeeze-oh-PETE!” She stood up and stomped to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Jess looked from one man to the other. “What did you do, guys? Why piss her off like that?” she asked, as if she hadn’t been loudly arguing with Mica for a half-hour. Standing, she went to Mica’s door, tapped quietly, and entered. Low voices filtered out into the living area, and the men looked at each other in disbelief.

  Daniel asked, “What just happened?”

  Mason shrugged. “She’s tired and scared. No one likes being off-kilter, and this whole situation is definitely cattywhompus for Mica. Beer?” Getting up, heading into the kitchen, and coming back with two bottles, he handed one to Daniel. “Tell me about last night, man.”

  “We talked for a long time, and then she fell asleep in my bed. There’s definitely something between us, and I’m gonna explore that fully—once everything is settled. Her dream was bad; when I was finally able to wake her up, we talked some more, and then she fell back asleep.” Daniel’s frown lessened after a few quite moments, and then he smiled. “She’s something else, all fire and…hell, everything I think of is fire—spitfire, firecracker, fireworks…she’s something else, Mason.”

  “Yeah, buddy.” Mason smiled back at Daniel as Mica and Jess walked back into the room.

  Mica stood for a moment, looking at the two men closely. “Okay, here’s the deal,” she said finally. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, and you don’t get to make decisions for me. I’m happy to listen to suggestions, but I cannot let you two take away my ability to decide. If nothing is my decision, then I am afraid I will freeze when I need to be forced into action instead.” She shook her head. “If you can’t deal with that, then tell me now. This is a deal breaker for me.”

  Frowning at her, Daniel said, “No one here wants to take away your ability to make decisions on your own, Mica. We only want your safety, so no argument from me.”

  Mason was shaking his head, though. “I don’t know if I can promise, babe. In fact, I know I can’t. I always want to take care of you. I want you safe, but that’s not really what you are asking about, is it?” He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What you really want to know is if we think you are strong enough to deal with everything going on. I can tell you that the answer is categorically and resoundingly yes. You are a resilient fucking woman, and I have never thought of you as frail or fragile, only strong, amazing, and incredible. Never less than that.”

  She looked at them with tears in her eyes, nodding her understanding, and Mason turned to Daniel. “Got a room or a bed with my name on it, rich fucker? I’m gettin’ tired.”

  Mica walked over to Daniel, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, “If I can sleep with you again, Mason could have my bed.” She pulled back to see his reaction, smiling as she saw his blue eyes darken with desire.

  Nodding, he turned to Mason. “Give me a minute to move a bag, man. We’ve got room.”

  Getting ready for bed later, Daniel watched Mica gather up her sleep clothes and head into the bathroom to change. She had not acted embarrassed earlier, even as Mason hooted and bussed her cheeks loudly after Daniel moved her bag into his bedroom, clearing the other room out for Mason to use. She had smiled at the biker, cupping his cheek tenderly. She’d kissed the edge of his jaw, making a face at the rough whiskers she found there.

  Daniel stood near the bed in his sweatpants, waiting for her to come back out, forcing himself to remain still and not fidget. After talking for hours, sharing a bed last night had been effortless between them. Even though they had kissed and made out like teenagers, she had been wary of his back injury, and slowed them both before they reached the stage of making love. During that make out session, he’d touched almost every inch of her body, licking and kissing her all over, so he didn’t know why she would leave the room to change.

  After a few minutes, he wondered if anything was wrong, and what she could be doing in there all this time. Maybe he misunderstood and she didn’t want to sleep with him; maybe she wanted a platonic bed partner instead.

  Shaking his head, he knew his imagination was running away from him, so he approached the door and tapped one knuckle lightly against the wood. “Mica, beautiful, is everything okay?” He rested one hand on the doorknob, waiting, but not turning it until he knew if something was wrong.

 
Her voice carried through the door clearly, “Daniel, can you get Jess for me?”

  Pulling back startled, he muttered, “Okay,” and went to the door of the other suite, knocking lightly.

  “Da fug?” Jess pulled the door open, clad only in her panties. “What?”

  Shaking his head and quickly looking away, he told her, “Mica wants to talk to you. She’s in my bathroom.”

  “Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” came her response, grabbing a shirt off the foot of the bed. She murmured to Brandy, “Back in a minute, baby,” and waltzed into Daniel’s bedroom to thwap her palm briskly on the bathroom door. “Comin’ in, be decent,” was all the warning Mica got as Jess pushed open the door. Daniel stood looking that way with wide eyes, but didn’t see anything as Jess closed the door quickly, sticking her tongue out at him before it clicked shut.

  Low voices whispered behind the bathroom door, and not wanting to eavesdrop, Daniel went back to the bed and sat down. Thinking he might as well work, he grabbed the laptop and cued up the training tape from practice earlier that day. Watching the screen intently, he nearly missed Jess tiptoeing through the room on her way back to the bathroom. “I didn’t see you come out,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine,” she snorted, “just needed some supplies.”

  “Oh,” he said, wondering what she might mean…and then, “oh,” in a lower tone, realizing that Mica must have started her female time and hadn’t been prepared. He had given no thought about having stocks laid in for that, and wouldn’t have known her preferred items anyway. Jess waved at him on her way back to bed, and he lifted a hand in response.

  He thought about that again, shaking his head, wondering how one might ask that question—maybe start with, ‘Excuse me, would you prefer tampons or napkins? Pearls or strings? Wings or no wings?’ and he laughed silently at his inner dialog. That was the extent of his knowledge, and it was based on fifteen-year-old information he’s picked up from his mom, so it was probably pretty pathetic.