Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
RUBY
“Have I mentioned how much I love your hair?”
Micah winds a curl around his finger and holds it for a second before letting it go. “I’m probably messing it up by doing this, aren’t I?” he adds with a sheepish smile. “I just can’t seem to resist.”
Given that we just had sex, and an enthusiastic round of it at that, I can only imagine the state my hair is currently in. Not great, I can say with certainty. Verging on bird’s nest territory, most likely. Whatever Micah’s doing to it isn’t going to make a difference at this point.
Patting my hair out of instinct, I reply, “You’re not messing it up. Not any more than it is already, at least.”
He kisses my forehead. “Your hair isn’t a mess. I think it looks gorgeous.”
I snort softly. “Gorgeous? I know what my hair looks like in the morning. And after what we just did? I shudder to imagine.”
“I like your hair all wild like this.” Micah pulls another curl between his fingers.
“When the sun hits it, it turns all different colors. Like it’s on fire.
” He kisses me again, this time on the lips.
“I think that’s one of the reasons why my cooking was so bad.
I kept getting distracted by looking at you. ”
“Micah.”
“It’s true. Especially when the kitchen got hot.
Your cheeks would get all flushed, and your curls would start springing out, and then you’d take off whatever long-sleeved shirt you were wearing, and you’d only have this cute little T-shirt on beneath.
It was hard to concentrate on anything else besides you. ”
Fizzy warmth blossoms inside me. Snuggling closer to him, I drape my leg over his.
Then I kiss his jaw. “You distracted me, too, you know. Especially when you’d stretch, and your shirt would pull up to show these.
” Reaching between us, I trace the lines of his abs.
“I got very distracted whenever these made an appearance.”
Micah flexes his stomach. His voice dips. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. I kept wondering how many you had. Six? Eight? Was ten even possible, or was that just something authors made up for their books? I could never tell. Not from what I saw in class.”
“And now?” he asks. “Have you decided how many there are?” His hand comes to my breast, and he gives my nipple a gentle tweak. “Eight? Or ten?”
I arrange my features into a solemn expression. “I hate to tell you this, but I can only count eight. So I guess the ten-pack thing is only a myth.”
Micah sucks in his cheek. His lips twitch. “Only eight?” He shakes his head. “I guess I need to get on that, then. Up my daily situps.”
“Oh, I think I can manage with eight,” I tease. “Ten would probably be excessive, really.”
He grins. “Noted. Eight is fine. Ten is too much.”
I laugh. “Eight is more than enough. I don’t want you spending all day doing situps.” My smile fades as I add, “I don’t really care, Micah. I hope you know that. Yes, I like looking at your body. But what’s inside is the important thing. That’s what I love.”
“Just a perk, right?” His eyes crinkle with amusement. “Nothing wrong with some perks.” He brushes his thumb across my nipple. “Like these.”
“I suppose those would be a perk to you, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes.” He props himself up on one arm and leans over to kiss my breast. “I would definitely call these a perk. But.” His expression sobers.
“Only a perk. Like you said, I care about what’s inside, Rue.
Your hair and your freckles and your sexy little body?
They’re incredible. But that’s only a tiny part of who you are. ”
“Micah.”
As he looks at me, something dark and intense works in his eyes. “Rue. I—”
But of course, because phones always seem to find the absolute worst time to ring, a familiar trill sounds from the nightstand.
Micah glances over at his phone and sighs. “As much as I’d like to ignore that…”
“I know. You have to answer it.” I’ve spent enough time with Micah to learn the signature ringtone he assigned to designate Fox just the low, unintelligible rumble of a man’s voice. But judging by the way Micah’s body tenses, I have a sinking feeling the news isn’t good.
“When did it happen?” Micah asks. His features fold into a scowl as he listens to the answer. “Are you sure about—” He stops. “Right. Of course.”
A chill catches me, and I shiver. A heavy sense of foreboding closes in.
Micah glances at me. Concern darkens his gaze. Then he hugs me closer and rubs my shoulder. “Of course I want to be in on it,” he says. “If he’s behind everything—” His jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow. “When?”
He nods as the other person starts speaking again. After about thirty seconds or so, he nods. “That works. I just need to get someone over here first. Beau or Kurt, ideally, since Ruby knows them already.”
My stomach flips.
“Okay,” Micah says. “I’ll be there in an hour.” He nods again. “Roger that.” After a brief pause, his tone darkens. “I’ll take responsibility, Nico. This is personal.”
I’m startled to hear Micah call Rogue by his real name. Aside from the initial introductions, Micah always calls his friends by their nicknames. Which makes me think this is very serious, indeed.
Ending the call, Micah sets the phone down and turns to me. His gaze is solemn. His features could be stone.
“It’s about my case,” I say before he can speak. “Right?”
“Yes.” He takes my chilled hands in his. “It’s about your case. Rogue found something. And we’re going to follow up on it.”
“What did he find?”
“Well.” Micah hesitates. “We can fix this. Okay?”
“Fix what?” A beat later, a thought occurs to me. “Is it my apartment? Was there another bomb? Was someone hurt?”
He rubs my hands to warm them. “It wasn’t your apartment. It was the storage unit in the basement.”
My voice pitches up. “There was a bomb in the basement?”
His face creases in apology. “Shit, no. Sorry. There wasn’t a bomb. But someone broke into your unit last night. They—” He grimaces. “From what Rogue could see on the camera we hid down there, some of your things were damaged.”
“My things…” I swallow against the emotion thickening my throat.
Taking several deep breaths, I remind myself that I didn’t keep anything really important down there.
All the really important stuff, like my photos and paintings and gifts from my parents, were already moved from my apartment to here.
“I’m sorry, Rue. Once I find out the extent of the damage, I’ll help you fix it. Replace it. Whatever you want.”
I let out another steadying breath. “It’s okay. They’re just things. Just as long as no one was hurt.”
“Not yet,” Micah mutters darkly.
“Not yet?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “Anyway. The other part is the good news. At least, it could be.”
“Good news?” None of this sounds good to me.
“Yeah.” His gaze holds mine. “Rogue caught the guy on camera. And he made an ID.”
“What? You know who it is?”
“We know who broke into your storage unit,” Micah answers carefully. “And it appears—” He grimaces again. “I haven’t seen the footage myself yet. But Rogue said it looked like the man wasn’t trying to steal anything. He was just trying to destroy as much as he could.”
My heart stutters. “Like he was angry with me?”
“Possibly.” Micah strokes his thumb across my palm. “Probably. But we need to talk to the guy. Get a read on him. See if we can convince him to tell us the truth.”
“You think he’ll just tell you? That he vandalized my belongings? That he put a bomb in my apartment? That he tried to kill me? Micah, why would he do that?”
His gaze goes cold and flat. “He’ll tell us. He’ll tell me. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Micah.” I clutch his hand. “I don’t want you getting in trouble. Or what if he tries to hurt you?”
Micah makes a dismissive sound. “He won’t.”
It suddenly occurs to me that Micah didn’t tell me who the man was. “Who was it?” I ask. “The man who messed with my things?”
Don’t let it be Liam, I plead silently. I never loved him, and he turned out to be a real jerk at the end. But I really, really don’t want him to be the one behind all of this.
“His name is Greg Haverford. The superintendent of the building.”