by Susan Stoker
“I’m glad. For what it’s worth…I’m sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll talk to you later?”
Mickie had nodded and watched sadly as Cruz walked back toward the other men. She wasn’t brave enough to say anything right then, there was too much going on around them anyway, but she’d made the decision to reach out to Cruz to see if they could salvage their relationship. She just had to figure out how to do it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mickie stared down at her new phone. The FBI had allowed her to write down any contact information she’d wanted from her old phone before they’d confiscated it. She was one of the holdouts and had never set up her stupid Cloud, but as soon as she had time, she was going to make sure she did it. It was a pain to have to re-enter all the settings and contacts.
They’d said she would get her old phone back eventually, not that she cared too much. There were some pictures on there that she wanted to keep, but it wasn’t as if she could complain about them taking it. If the video she took would put some of the MC members away, she wouldn’t put up a fuss.
She’d saved Cruz’s new number Mack had given her into her contacts two weeks ago at her sister’s funeral, and was now debating whether or not she should hit send on the text she’d written. She hadn’t lied to Mack; she missed Cruz. She missed texting him, she missed talking to him, and she certainly missed the feel of him holding her.
Spending time at the softball game with Mack and Hayden, and seeing how well all the men had gotten along and how close they were, had solidified Mickie’s desire to try to work through all that had happened with Cruz. He’d been giving her space, which she appreciated, but she’d finally decided it was time to reach out to him.
She’d thought about what Mack had told her at the funeral; in fact, hadn’t slept that great as a result of not being able to stop thinking about it. Cruz believed he was to blame, but when Mickie really examined everything that happened, the person responsible for Angel’s death was Angel. And Ransom, and all the other assholes in the motorcycle club. Cruz was there to do good, and he’d done what he could to protect Mickie.
She had been stupid enough to put herself in danger. Mickie never should’ve gone to the party that night, and in turn had put Cruz in danger. It was obvious he knew the club was going to be busted, but he did what he could to shield her from the worst of it. He’d protected her and risked having his cover blown as a result. She’d been terrified out of her mind when the crazy drug lord had decided he wanted her, but not once did she think Cruz would hand her over. Even with everything going on around them, she knew he would protect her and somehow get them out of there.
It was that bone-deep realization—that when the shit hit the fan, Cruz would protect her—that had made her type out the text in the first place.
The whole situation was fucked up and it killed Mickie to know Cruz blamed himself. It wasn’t his fault; none of it was his fault.
She pushed the send button on the phone before she could analyze what she’d written anymore. Heck, Cruz probably wouldn’t even know what the hell she was talking about. Probably wouldn’t even know it was her.
She sat on her couch clutching her phone and trying not to hyperventilate.
* * *
Cruz lay on his bed with one hand under his head and the other resting on his stomach. This was where he came when he needed to feel…something. He’d been numb for the last few weeks. Nothing seemed to be able to penetrate. But here, in his bed, where he could still smell Mickie, here he could feel. It hurt, but it was something. He shifted onto his side and turned his head into his pillow. Yup, he could still smell her, barely. He hadn’t washed his pillowcase, which he knew was probably disgusting, but if he had, he wouldn’t be able to smell Mickie. He’d be empty again.
He thought about the raid. Cruz had been taken to the police station and the officer removed his cuffs when Quint met him at the door. Cruz had turned and shaken the officer’s hand and thanked him.
He’d been debriefed by the SAPD and his boss at the FBI. They’d informed him Mickie had taken an audio recording, and a very crappy video, of most of what had happened at the warehouse. They now had that video and audio in their possession and were going to use it against as many people as they could.
Cruz had had to sit down upon hearing that. Apparently she’d gone to the party in the hopes she’d be able to gather proof that Ransom wasn’t a good guy that she could bring to the cops, to get him away from her sister. Well, she’d certainly gotten more than she’d bargained for.
Bubba hadn’t survived the knife wound Ransom had given him by accident and Ransom had been arrested. He’d only been in the county jail for three days before he’d been found dead in his cell. It was ruled a suicide, but Cruz had his doubts. Ransom was too conceited, too in love with himself, to do something so final as to take his own life.
Chico Malo might be dead, but whoever his successor was had found a way to take down his competition with a vengeance. At least Cruz didn’t have to worry about his or Mickie’s safety anymore. The other MC members were either dead or sitting in jail. And since no one but Ransom and Bubba had known Cruz was undercover, his identity was safe.
Cruz should feel glad. He’d gotten the Red Brothers MC shut down and had a part in dismantling a major international drug supplier. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Mickie. He’d give it all back if he could have her in his life again.
Realizing that was impossible, Cruz knew he couldn’t live in the same city as Mickie and not completely lose his mind. He didn’t think she hated him, not after the softball game where he’d noticed she’d kept her eyes on him, but her not hating him and them being able to have a relationship were two completely different things. Not sure he could handle seeing her and not having her for himself, Cruz had put in for a transfer. He didn’t care where, as long as it wasn’t in Texas. He’d volunteered to work in Victim Assistance. He could still honor Avery, and now Angel, and their memories by helping victims of crime get their lives back.
Cruz’s phone buzzed. He was tempted to ignore it. Mack and Dax had been on his ass to get back into the land of the living. Not to mention the other guys. TJ and Quint typically called him once a day, and even Calder and Conor tried to convince him to go out to dinner one night with them. Hayden, the lone woman in their circle of friends, had attempted to sweet talk him into taking her to see the latest action movie in the theaters. He’d turned them all down.
Quint had sat him down and had a long talk with him after the softball game the other day. Cruz had been surprised to see Mickie there, but should’ve known Mack wouldn’t let a chance to throw him together with Mickie go. She was his biggest fan, other than Dax, and he knew she wanted him to be happy.
He and Quint had had a long talk about what it was they wanted out of their lives, and Cruz was surprised to learn that Quint felt much as he did, especially after seeing how happy Dax and Mack were. Quint had flat-out said he didn’t care if the woman meant to be his wasn’t perfect…as long as she loved him as much as Mack loved Dax, it wouldn’t matter.
Thinking about that conversation, as well as the look of longing in Mickie’s eyes at the game, made him want to grab ahold of her and never let go.
He made the decision to reach out to her. If he didn’t try, he knew he’d always regret it. And she’d shown up at the game…that had to mean something.
Cruz reached for the vibrating phone, knowing if he didn’t respond, whichever of his friends it was, wouldn’t leave him alone.
He read the text in confusion. It made no sense.
I remember you used to drive that crappy blue Chevy Nova. What do you drive now?
Cruz didn’t drive a Chevy. He had a Harley and a black Toyota. It wasn’t in the best shape, but it wasn’t crappy by any stretch. Cruz was about to ignore the text, assuming it was a wrong number, when something niggled at his brain.
He sat up and stared at the numbe
r. It was local, but not a number he recognized. Cruz struggled to remember what he needed to in order to respond. Finally, it came to him. He hoped like hell he wasn’t wrong about who’d sent the text. He could feel his heart literally leap in his chest. Cruz painstakingly typed out a response.
The same crappy blue Chevy Nova.
He held his breath.
You want to accidently be at the same place at the same time tomorrow to feed ourselves?
Cruz closed his eyes and choked back the emotion crawling up his throat. Mickie. Thank God.
She’d reached out with a line from Beverly Hills Cop, then asked him the same thing he’d asked her all those weeks ago when he’d asked her out for the first time. He suddenly felt stronger and more with it than he’d felt in a few weeks.
Yeah. I’d like that.
I know a good Mexican place on the River Walk :)
Cruz tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make it.
How about my place? I make a mean BLT.
It was several minutes before Mickie texted back, and Cruz could swear his heart stopped beating until she did.
What time?
One?
Okay. See you then.
I’ve missed you. Cruz wasn’t going to go there, but couldn’t help himself.
I’ve missed you too. See you tomorrow.
Bye.
Cruz clicked off his phone and lay back on the bed, holding the phone to his chest. He had one more chance with Mickie. He didn’t want to fuck it up. The depression that had settled on his shoulders seemed to disappear as if by magic.
He got up off the bed. He had a ton of shit to do. Mickie wasn’t just going to accept him back without him working for it, so he was going to do whatever he could to convince her to give him another chance. She apparently had more gumption than he’d expected. He hoped like hell her reaching out meant she was considering giving him another shot. Her text was just what Cruz needed to get his head out of his ass.
He wanted Mickie. He wanted his life in Texas…with Mickie. He was going to do everything in his power to make her realize how good they were together. Even if it took months, he was up to the challenge. She was worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mickie nervously wiped her hands on her thighs as she waited for Cruz to open his door. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous, except she really wanted this to work out. She knocked softly.
Cruz opened the door almost immediately. “Hey, Mickie.”
“Hey, Cruz.”
“Come in. Please.”
Mickie brushed past Cruz into his apartment. She heard him close and lock the door behind her and she continued walking into his living room.
“Want to sit at the table to eat? Or the couch?”
“Either.”
“Couch okay then?”
“Yeah.” Mickie hated the stifled conversation between them, but didn’t know how to fix it. “Need any help?”
“Sure, if you want to grab the drinks, I’ll get the plates.”
Mickie grabbed the two soft drinks and brought them over to the coffee table as Cruz followed with their sandwiches. They both sat down, and Cruz turned sideways with one leg hiked up on the couch, facing her.
Mickie sat straight forward, feeling awkward. She grabbed her sandwich and took a bite. She put it back on the plate and rested her head against the cushions. She turned her head to see Cruz watching her intently. She swallowed hard. “Cruz—”
“Thank you for coming over today, Mickie. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m very sorry about Angel.”
Mickie nodded. “Yeah…thanks.”
“I was going to sit next to you and make small talk while we ate. Then I was going to suggest a movie, maybe Beverly Hills Cop 2. Then I was going to ask if you wanted to go out again…soon.”
“You were going to do all of those things?” Mickie asked, clearing her throat nervously.
“Yeah, but now I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Mickie felt like a parrot, repeating back everything Cruz said to her.
“No. I can’t.” Cruz held up a hand between them. “Look, I’m shaking. I’m so afraid you only came over today to tell me what an asshole I am. And I know I’m an asshole, I know what I did was wrong, but I—”
He stopped speaking abruptly when Mickie reached up and took his shaking hand between both of hers. She lowered their hands to his knee and rested them there. “You aren’t an asshole, Cruz.”
“Mickie—”
“Seriously. Listen to me for a sec. I was hurt after that phone call. I’d just had the most amazing experience with you and thought you felt the same. When I heard what those guys were saying, I couldn’t understand how you could go and cheapen what we had by telling them about us.”
“I didn’t tell anyone anything.”
“I know that now, Cruz, but I didn’t at the time. And it hurt. And then I saw you at that party. I was scared and confused and when you talked about me like you did to that first guy, I was completely freaked out. But then you protected me. You didn’t make me do the drugs, you covered me back up when I inadvertently exposed myself, and when push came to shove, when the cops came and the bullets flew, you shoved me against that wall and made sure not one inch of my body was vulnerable. You literally put yourself between me and stray bullets.”
“Mickie—”
“I’m not done.”
“Sorry, go ahead.” Cruz couldn’t help but smile. She was so cute.
“I have a question for you. If you answer it right, I…I want to see where this can go between us.”
“And if I don’t?”
Mickie shrugged. “Then you’ll get transferred and we’ll both go on with our lives.”
Cruz turned his hand within hers and brought it up to his face. He rested his forehead against the back of Mickie’s hand and nodded once. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “Ask.”
“Was it all a lie? Were you using me to try to get information about Angel, and thus about the MC?”
Cruz didn’t even think. “No. It wasn’t all a lie. I had thoughts about trying to get in with Angel, to find out what she knew, to see if she knew anything about how the drugs got into the club in the first place, but I found out pretty quickly she was an innocent bystander. Ransom was using her. I had no intention of getting involved with you, but when Ransom got pissed at you for trying to butt in with Angel, I wanted to protect you.
“You were right about the tires. Ransom ordered one of the club members to do that. I didn’t know about it until you called me though. But the thing is…once I started protecting you, it stopped being about the club and the job, and started being about you. I should’ve gotten the hell away from you, but I couldn’t. I knew from the first time I saw you that you were an open book. Not only that, I knew what else you were.”
When he didn’t continue, Mickie tentatively asked, “And what was I?”
“Mine.”
“What?”
“Mine. I know that sounds terribly chauvinistic, but it’s what I thought. Sitting across from you, talking to you, touching your hand. A part of me knew you were what I’d waited my entire life for. You were the reason why I’d been married to Sophie. If I hadn’t been married to her and experienced what I did with her, I wouldn’t have been driven to take this undercover assignment. And if I hadn’t taken the assignment, I never would’ve met you. I never would’ve smelled you, tasted you, felt what you feel like when I was deep inside you. I might not have been there when you went to try to save your sister. Who the hell knows what would’ve happened to you. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Mickie.”
“Cruz…”
“You’ll never know how scared I was when I realized you’d walked into that warehouse. There were men having full-out gang bangs, people snorting cocaine, and me—me being an asshole. You were in danger and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it and keep my cover. But you should know, I’d already made the
decision that I didn’t give a shit about my job, or my cover. I was going to do whatever it took to make sure you got out of there in one piece. You will always be more important to me than my job. Always.”
“I’m sorry, Cruz. I never should’ve done it. You told me not to do anything crazy and you were right. I was an idiot and I can swear to you that it’ll never happen again.”
“Damn right.”
Mickie smiled for the first time that night. Cruz sounded so disgruntled.
“The thing is, Mickie, for the first time in my career, the job wasn’t important. I’d been undercover for almost three months and the only thing I cared about was your safety. I wasn’t going to let Roach, or Vodka, Chico Malo, or even Bubba touch you. I didn’t care if I blew my cover, but they weren’t going to fucking touch you. I would’ve died getting you out of there untouched, Mickie. You’re mine.” Cruz’s voice broke, but he continued on.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to have you trust me again. I’ll quit and see if I can get hired on at the SAPD. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I have no secrets from you, never again. We’ll honor Angel’s memory somehow, however you want…”
“Will you have to go undercover again?”
“No.”
“You sound sure.”
“I’m sure. Most of the time, we don’t get sent undercover, sweetness. Agents volunteer for that shit. If I have you, I don’t ever want to go undercover again. I wouldn’t want to be separated from you and I certainly wouldn’t want to put myself in danger like that again.”
“I don’t want you to quit the FBI. You’re good at what you do. I think I love you back.”
“Me going undercover could put you in danger as well, and I won’t do it. I’ll even—wait…what?”
“I love you.”
Cruz could only stare at Mickie in bewilderment. His badassness was gone. This woman was his world and she had him completely under her thumb. “But, Mickie… I killed your sister.”
Mickie sighed and scooted closer to Cruz, until he had to drop his leg and turn so he was sitting correctly on the cushion. She pulled her feet up and lay her head on his shoulder. Her left arm went around his chest and she pushed until her right arm was between his back and the couch. She smiled when Cruz tentatively put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
