“Micah…”
“No.” His voice was unbending.
She started to argue again but stopped herself. If this was their only shot—theirs and Luke’s and Conor’s—she’d do what Micah needed her to do. They were a team, and she was a part of it, and that meant listening to the new boss.
“What do we do now?” she asked instead.
“We take a deep breath.”
Kara inhaled and exhaled, picturing the four of them together, back at the cabin, happy and whole.
She’d make it happen, or she’d die trying.
“Now,” Micah whispered.
And they ducked their heads below the surface.
2
Then
Micah didn’t understand how that fucking woman had dug so deep into Conor’s head.
Micah had watched as Conor hit on the curvy redhead—just like his friend, boss, and sometimes lover had done hundreds of times with hundreds of women. Except that night, something was different. As he’d watched Conor flirt with her, it was like electricity leapt between them. There was a twinge in Micah’s gut, and the sense that if he wasn’t careful, the foundation he’d worked to build between Conor, Luke, and himself would crack.
Micah shouldn’t have ignored the feeling; he always trusted his own gut. His sixth sense about things had saved his team’s lives more than once.
But Conor was determined, and so was the girl, and at the time Micah tried to convince himself that it was just business as usual and there was no reason to cockblock even though everything inside him had screamed otherwise.
But something had changed. The man that left the barwith a stranger two nights ago was not the man who showed up at Micah and Luke’s apartment that morning, dark shadows under his desperation-filled ees.
“I don’t know, man,” Conor said when they pressed him about it. “She just… I…we…” Micah’s friend, Micah’s always calm, always centered, always focused friend, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head like he was trying to dislodge water.
Like Conor was drowning.
As he watched Conor, that gut sense that everything was going to change came back in full force.
“She, you… what? What, Conor?” Micah had asked, keeping his tone even.
Conor’s eyes flashed in warning before his shoulders and head slumped. “It was different.Shewas different. I don’t know.”
“Pussy that tight, huh? Maybe I should give it a try,” Luke joked lightly, trying to dispel Conor’s mood and bring them back to familiar ground.
Conor had Luke up out of his chair and shoved against the fridge, hand around his lover’s throat, before Micah could stop him.
“What the fuck, man?” Luke choked out.
“Conor,” Micah warned, maintaining that even tone.
Conor ignored him.
Micah tried again, appealing to his lover’s deepest fear. “Conor, take a breath, okay? Look at what you’re doing. You’re out of control.”
That did it. Conor released Luke, both men breathing heavily, staring at each other.
“Okay,” Luke finally said, capitulating for once. “You’re obviously into her; take her out to dinner, wine and dine her, see where it goes.”
Conor groaned. “I tried. She wasn’t interested. And she left town already.”