Page 15 of Meet Me In The Dark

“She isn’t Conor’s. She isn’t mine either. She’s no one’s.”

Not even her own. She was too lost for that, and Micah wanted to help her find herself—on her way to him.

If she hadn’t already.

There was silence on the other side of the phone.

Then Luke said, “Come home. Clear out now, get in the car, or I don’t care, leave the car there and get on a plane and come home, we’ll get it shipped. Just come home. Clear your head, get away from her before you do something you can’t take back. Conor and I are your family, man.”

“I can’t leave her,” Micah argued, part relieved by the option Luke had offered, part horrified by the idea of not having her in his arms, her taste in his mouth, after this. “Not after tonight. Besides, I promised I’d watch her.”

Luke snorted. “A little late for that argument. Whatever. I’ll take over.” Before Micah could say anything or growl again, Luke hurried to say, “I won’t touch her. Won’t get near her. I’ve learned y’all’s lesson, man.” Luke’s southern Texasonly came out when he was stressed. “I don’t need kryptonite pussy in my life, got enough problems, right?”

Micah laughed tersely. “Right.”

“See you soon.” Luke hesitated on the phone, started to say, “I?—”

Micah froze. Was Luke finally going to admit his feelings? “You what?”

“I’m excited to see you, that’s all. I’ve missed your conniving ass.”

Of course.Luke was always able to cut through Micah’s bullshit but refused to address his own.

They hung up. Micah opened the door back to the bedroom. Kara was still asleep, curled on the bed, auburn hair almost black in the dark. Even though a voice in his head screamed at him to get back in bed, wake her up, fuck his way back into her body and then tell her everything, he ignored the voice. Forget what it would do to his relationship with Conor for a second; Micah couldn’t stay with Kara for his own sake.

He’d been right when he’d first seen her all those months ago in the bar. She was dangerous. But not for the reasons he thought. Not because she threatened to take Conor away from him, but because she threatened to shake the foundation of his entire existence. She’d dug her way into Conor’s head; she’d dig her way into Micah’s heart.

Better to leave now. It hurt, a little, after having promised her breakfast, to ditch her in the middle of the night, knowing she’d think he was just another asshole. He considered leaving her a note, apologizing, but to what purpose? Better for them to end this game now, for her to hate him, than for things to go sour later.

Micah pulled on his clothes and shoes, watching her breathe, committing the image to his memory. He leanedover and kissed her gently on the back of her neck. She murmured something in her sleep.

Then forced himself to turn away from her and walked out the door and out of her life.

For now.

3

Now

Micah couldn’t sleep. He’d been lying in bed for hours, watching the time tick away on his phone as shadows moved across the ceiling of the seaside motel.

After Conor and Luke had been tied up, knocked out, and dragged onto the helicopter, which took off not long after, Micah and Kara had swum back to shore and started the long, grueling hike up the beach back to the highway. Waterlogged and terrified, Kara had followed him silently. They’d flagged down an SUV driving past: two young surfers. Micah hadn’t worried about their safety; he was the scariest thing on the road.

The surfers had dropped them off at the motel, and Micah had gone inside to use the phone—and grab them a room. A short conversation with Marcus later, and a room was procured from the suspicious older woman who ran the motel. She clearly didn’t trust Micah, but Marcus’s moneyhad a way of making the wariest people shut their eyes and pretend they didn’t know something was wrong.

Micah and Kara had checked into the room and he’d gotten her into the shower, briefly leaving her to go find food, hair dye, and to clean and dry their only clothes. When he’d come back, Kara had been prostate on the floor, gasping for air.

“We have to find them,” she cried. “We have to?—”

Micah didn’t bother to tell her he was doing everything he could, or that Marcus was sending Billy and a car. He didn’t tell her that he already had a lead, but that she wasn’t coming with him. She could barely breathe, and the only thing that mattered right then was helping her.

That was only the first panic attack she’d had that night. Usually, Micah could help break her out of them with Luke’s guidance, but she was spiraling, and all he could do was hold her and remind herbreathe, Kara, just breathe with me. She’d clung to him tightly, like she’d needed the reminder that he was still there.

Finally, exhausted from the ordeal, she’d stood quietly while he dyed her hair purple, and then let him lead her to the bed, where she’d passed out. Now, Micah lay there, holding her, finding comfort in the feel of her in his arms. He’d shut his eyes at first, hoping to get some much-needed sleep to fuel him for what came next, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Micah was familiar with functioning without sleep—it had been both a part of his time as a SEAL, as well as when he lived on the streets and sleeping meant leaving yourself vulnerable to other predators. But he’d gotten used to sleeping, especially with Kara wrapped in his arms, asleep on his chest, Luke and Conor framing them on both sides. Sleep was reserved for being with his family, knowing they weresafe. And they weren’t now. Not him, although he didn’t care about that. Not Kara, who was the real target of Chris Johnathan’s wrath. And not the two men he loved, who were god knows where, surviving god knew what.

God, he hoped they were surviving. They had to be alive. The maniacal professor was too vindictive to kill them quickly. And they’d been trained for torture. All they needed to do was live through it.

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