Chapter 10
Ten
MICAH
“ W hat the fuck was that?”
Rhea had been quiet while I led us outside, unsettlingly so. From exiting the club after getting her stuff, to the elevator, to my suite, to the balcony, she hadn’t said a fucking word, hadn’t tried to get in my head.
Until now.
Problem was… I had the same question.
What the fuck was that?
I wasn’t a hothead, not anymore.
Growing up the way I did, without any “true” family until I was brought into the Predators’ fold, I’d been forced to be a little wild. People choosing not to fuck with you ’cause they heard you fucked people up was an excellent defensive tactic.
Back then.
Maturity had taught me I shouldn’t seek conflict, and when it found me anyway, it was better to de-escalate.
I’d wanted to tear Santiago Ruiz’s fuckin’ head off, though.
Seeing him touching Rhea, knowing what I did about him, knowing Blue had already clocked the Renegados moving funny… a whole different level of protective instinct had kicked in, overriding any interpersonal skills I’d acquired.
I’d been perfectly willing to bash that man’s head in, right in the middle of the club.
Would have, without intervention from some of my brothers.
So… yeah.
What the fuck was that?
“I’m sure you know how ol’ boy is,” I said, deflecting. “He touched you. What did you see?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she countered.
“Why don’t you want to answer the question?” I shot right back. “First touch, right, that’s how your power works? So what’s up… has he had his hands on you before?!”
Rhea’s eyes narrowed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear her hair started lifting around her head as anger swelled in her. “Are you insinuating that I’ve fucked him?”
“Have you?”
I knew that was the wrong thing to say, before it came out of my mouth.
I just couldn’t fuck it help it.
Rhea crossed her arms. “I’m not even going to respond to that. You wanna know what I saw when he touched me? That he was dangerous and out of control. Unfortunately for you, when I look in your direction, I see the same fucking thing.”
“Whatever. I had to protect you.”
“Nope,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s bullshit, Micah. This was about your ego. I can, and have been , handling myself around men like Santiago for years. Security would’ve had everything under control about ten seconds later.”
“And if they hadn’t?”
She sucked her teeth.
Even pissed off, she was beautiful, eyes full of fire.
“You know damn well they would’ve. Unless you’re telling me you saw something I don’t know. Which I know you didn’t , because you couldn’t intervene if you did. So again— ego! ”
I let out a slow exhale, biding my time to figure out a way to argue her point… but I couldn’t. Even though she wasn’t quite as right as she thought.
“Exactly,” she said, her expression smug. “You were in your toxic masculinity bag. After not saying shit to me all day, mind you,” she added, eyebrow raised. “I’m sure you’re used to bitches being impressed by that, falling all over themselves to be close to you, all that. But that ain’t me.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you know too much for your own good,” she snapped. “You’ve seen your future, seen me in it? Fine. I can promise you, this shit isn’t how you make that happen.”
“Things have been off with the Renegados lately,” I blurted. “Blue gave me the heads up. So when I saw Santi with his hands on you?” I shook my head. “Fuck it… I wasn’t thinking. I needed to get to you, before...”
Her expression flickered, just a second of surprise before she covered it. “Before what?”
“Before something happened to you that I hadn’t seen coming.” I shrugged. “I didn’t want to hesitate, and be too late. I was just trying to protect?—”
Oh, shit.
Was this… my fault?
Had I inadvertently intervened in something, and now this—having Rhea pissed at me—was my penance?
Immediately, my chest got tight as an unfamiliar feeling settled over my shoulders. A backwards sort of adrenaline coursed through me, and my gaze went to Rhea’s face, searching for something steady.
She was there.
Maybe a little confused, but… not walking away.
And I… what was I?
My stomach tightened, a slow, twisting coil of something I couldn’t shake.
Not anger.
Not frustration.
Something else.
Something that made my fingers twitch, made my jaw clench, made my breath short like I’d taken a hit I wasn’t braced for.
Something that weighed heavy on me as Rhea’s eyebrow lifted again, waiting on me to finish my sentence, to say… anything.
But I didn’t have an answer.
… I don’t have an answer.
I bent at the waist, trying to suck in a breath as the realization hit me.
What the fuck is this?
Was this what uncertainty felt like?
“Hey,” Rhea’s voice urged, soft and concerned. Her hands were on my shoulders, and I forced my head up to look at her. “I think you’re having a panic attack,” she said matter-of-factly. “But you’re okay.”
A panic attack?
That wasn’t… that didn’t happen to me.
“Except, it is happening. Right now,” Rhea said. “Sit down with me.”
Shit. She was in my head now.
“I’ve been in your head,” she chuckled. “ Sit. ”
I sat.
Right on the cold concrete of the balcony floor, instead of the chairs a few feet away. Rhea dropped to her knees in front of me, tucking my hands into hers.
“Breathe. In for five, out for five.”
“That some kind of psychic cure?”
She smirked. “No. It’s just… human. Do it.”
I blew out a sigh, and then… yeah.
I did it.
And… shit, after a few rounds…
“See?” she said, knowing damn near before I did that it was working. “Told you.”
I nodded. “You did.”
After another few moments, I took the risk of pulling her onto my lap. “It’s getting cold out here,” I said, not really trying to hear her argument. “As a matter of fact, we need to go inside.”
She sucked her teeth. “I don’t like the overprotective shit. Or the bossy shit.”
“That’s actually too bad,” I said, easily scooping her into my arms as I stood. “It’s looking like I can’t help it.”
“ Micah! ” she fussed, but didn’t actually do anything to get away from me. I got her to the temperature-controlled inside of the suite and put her down, then moved to the kitchen counter to empty my pockets since I wasn’t going anywhere.
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
Card deck.
“What’s with the cards?” Rhea asked, reaching for the well-worn box before I could say anything, or react. “You’re really into the spades thing, huh?”
“I’ve always had it,” I admitted. “As long as I can remember. One of my first fights was somebody trying to take it off me. I… blacked.”
“Blacked?”
“Fucked ’em up,” I clarified. “I just… I couldn’t let it be taken from me. Bouncing around foster care and shit… It was the only thing I had that was really mine. I was fucking around in the director’s office—that was a mean ass lady, but anyway—she had this cabinet full of folders with everybody’s name. With their paperwork, like birth certificates and stuff. Mine didn’t have any of that. Just that deck of cards.”
“That’s… kinda messed up.”
“It’s very messed up. But it also felt kinda important,” I said, taking the deck from her hands. While she watched, I carefully opened the timeworn box I always had with me, pulling out a specific card.
The ace of spades with my name written on it.
“Oooh,” she said, taking it from my hands. “Is this where your nickname comes from?”
I nodded. “Yeah… Blue gave it to me.”
“Blue as in…. Predators president Blue?”
“Yeah. I used to have it out all the time, wearing it tucked under my hat, corny shit,” I laughed. “He didn’t know my name yet, so he called me that. And it stuck.”
Rhea smiled. “Okay… it feels a lot less corny that way. Here I was thinking you named yourself after the liquor or something.”
“Nah,” I chuckled. “Keep looking though.”
Eyebrow raised, she studied it a little longer, then flipped the card over to look again at the back.
“This pattern,” she murmured, running her fingers over it. “It’s the same as the keycard you gave me. The queen.”
I nodded. “The keycard is an exact replica of the queen of spades from this deck.”
“Should I read anything into that? You trying to mark me as yours or something?”
“Not trying,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I did, baby girl. Direct hit.”