Bad Boys After Dark: Mick Read online

  Mick turned, crouching and opening his arms seconds before Louie launched himself at him. Mick laughed as he rose to his feet and hugged the starry-eyed boy.

  “There’s my little man.” He shifted his eyes to Bridgette. “Hey, Bridge.”

  “I wanted to say goodbye.” Louie hugged Mick, then reached for Amanda.

  Her heart squeezed as he wiggled from Mick’s arms into hers and pressed his little lips to her cheek. He squirmed until he was back on the ground and ran onto the grass blowing his harmonica.

  “I think that’s his way of saying you should visit more often.” Bridgette smiled warmly and hugged Amanda. “I’m so glad we had a chance to meet, and I hope to see you again.”

  “Thank you. Me too.”

  As Mick said goodbye to Bridgette, Amanda wondered if she would see them again, or if she’d let herself get caught up in the moment and made the fantasy into something it wasn’t.

  Half an hour later they left paradise behind and pulled onto the highway. The radio played a song Amanda had heard a thousand times, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to hum along. Mick held her hand, absently stroking the spot between her finger and thumb that had given her away in the masquerade bar crawl. She realized she was waiting for him to say whatever he was about to say before they were interrupted. Apparently that ship had sailed, half promises and all.

  **

  MICK HAD DRIVEN slowly on the way back to the city, wanting as much time with Amanda as he could get before the real world rushed back in. It was hard to believe he’d ever thought that leaving what they’d had together behind would be easy. How could he have been such a fool? When it came to Amanda, nothing was easy. He had no idea how he could have fought his feelings for so long, day in and day out.

  “Louie sure was cute, wasn’t he?” she said as she unlocked the door to her apartment.

  “He’s something, all right.”

  She pushed open the door, and he followed her in, seeing her apartment for only the second time, yet somehow feeling like he’d been part of her life forever. How could one weekend feel like months?

  She set her purse on the coffee table, somehow managing to look even more radiant than she had moments ago. The weekend had changed her, too. She seemed more at ease with herself, and she moved more confidently. Although, as close as they’d become, she still seemed slightly unsure around him. That didn’t surprise him, though, given how fast and how far they’d come after so many mixed signals.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Bridgette,” she said. “I know I said it last night, but I do think she was lucky to have her husband for the time she did, and she’s lucky to have Louie.”

  He wasn’t surprised that she was still thinking about Bridgette and Louie. Amanda never forgot a soul. Long after they’d closed cases, she’d bring up their clients. More often than not it was to inquire about something personal, like if he knew how the client was doing, or how the case had affected them. She had the biggest, most generous heart. It was only one of the many things that continually drew him in. He set her bag by the door and closed the distance between them.

  “Yes, I think you’re right.” Just days earlier he might have opposed her view, but having fully opened his heart to her, he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever thought any amount of time with the love of a person’s life wasn’t worth the pain it would cause if their lives came crashing down.

  “She lost the man she loved, but he’s alive in Louie, and she probably sees glimpses of him every day.” She sighed and gazed out the window. “I can’t wait for Heath and Ally to have kids, since I’m sure they’ll have them before I do.”

  An icy chill ran down Mick’s spine. Images of Lorelei flashed in his mind—before she fell ill, laughing as she opened a Christmas present, clinging to her bear when Mick read her one of the Goosebumps stories she loved, and then the image appeared that made his hands fist and his chest tighten. The image that made his throat close with guilt and sadness: her trusting eyes holding his while he made the promise that he’d never be able to make right.

  “You want children?” How could he not have known this? He finally could see a future with Amanda. Marriage, getting old and gray together, but nowhere in that vision had he imagined children.

  “Not anytime soon,” she said, turning back to him. “But before I’m thirty-two or -three, I hope. I love kids, and I know I’ll have to figure out my career and all of that, but I look forward to it. Family is everything, but you of all people know that.”

  “Right, family. Yes,” he stammered in bewilderment as alarm bells rang out in his head. Kids. She wants kids.

  She should have them. She should have everything.

  She was saying something about when she and Ally were younger, but he was only half listening, struggling with his own conscience. Her cell phone rang, and she pulled it out of her purse.

  “That’s probably Ally wondering if I made it home okay.”

  “Take it. I’ll wait.” He needed the mental space anyway. He took a few steps away and paced. He pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the fabric pouch with the gift he’d bought for her at the festival, his heart aching anew.

  She ended the call and set her phone on the table. “I told her I’d call her back.” She drew in a deep breath, her shoulders lifting as her lips curved into a wide smile, and exhaled a dreamy sigh, another thing he’d come to love.

  “Thank you, Mick, for the weekend, for your patience, for everything.”

  His love for her shoved the angst simmering inside him a little deeper. “Baby, I should be thanking you for your patience. For your everything.”

  They both smiled with the tease.

  “I got you a little something.” He held out his hand and unfurled his fingers, revealing the gold fabric pouch with La Love embroidered on it.

  Her mouth gaped. “You bought me something? You shouldn’t have. You’ve already done so much.”

  Nothing will ever be enough. “This was too perfect not to buy.” He placed the bag in her trembling hand and was overcome with emotion as she opened it and withdrew the necklace.

  She held the gift in her palm and turned glassy eyes up to him. He lifted the necklace by the chain and turned her hand over. Her brows knitted, and she looked down at her hand as he placed the charm, a delicate gold isosceles triangle, in the space between her finger and thumb, lining up the corners to her freckles.

  “A perfect match,” he said, trying to ignore the ghosts and uncertainties roused by her earlier admission.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s so beautiful.”

  His throat thickened with emotion. He took a moment to wipe her tears, then put the necklace on her. He cradled her face in his hands and smiled at the woman who was changing his life, his thoughts, his beliefs, more with every second, and had now given him even more to think about.

  “You’re so beautiful. Thank you, baby, for the most incredible weekend of my life.” He sealed the truth with a long, loving kiss.

  “Thank—”

  He silenced her with another kiss. “It was my pleasure. Think you’ll be okay tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Okay, baby. I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  MONDAY AFTERNOON MICK sat at his desk with the phone pressed to his ear and checked his watch for the fourth time since he’d taken the phone call from sports and political commentator Ben Rhapson. Mick’s thirty-million-dollar lawsuit had extricated Ben from his television contract and positioned him to move to another network. They’d won the case five months ago, and against Mick’s advice, Ben had gotten himself entrenched in another contractual nightmare. Normally Mick wouldn’t care if the call went on for hours, but he’d been slammed from the second he’d walked into the office, and after a sleepless night, he was in desperate need of coffee.

  “Ben,” he interrupted his long-winded client. “Send me the docs and I’ll circle back after I review them and let you know
what we’re looking at.”

  As he hung up the phone, his office door flew open and his brother Brett stepped in with a cocky grin on his face. Sophie, Mick’s assistant, whom Brett loved to hit on and annoy, followed on his heels.

  Sophie glared at Brett. She stepped in front of his very large brother, and in a professional yet firm voice said, “I told him you were on the phone.”

  Of the four brothers, Brett and Mick resembled each other the most, with strong, square jaws and their father’s deep-set eyes. Brett also had his father’s anger, and he spent hours in the gym working out the rage that seemed to simmer beneath his skin. But Brett also had a softer side, one he rarely let outsiders see, and a wicked sense of humor that rivaled his high intelligence, all of which made him an intense and complex man. Much like Mick. Brett had an inch and a good ten pounds on Mick, two things his youngest brother never allowed him to forget.

  Mick shook his head. “Thanks, Soph. Brett has a hearing problem. It’s called Asshole Ears.”

  Brett waggled his brows at Sophie. “He loves me.” He flopped into a chair and patted his thigh. “Sit right down, Soph, and I’ll make it up to you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.”

  “I usually call them fantasies,” Brett said. “But if you want me to start thinking about them as dreams, I’d be happy to.”

  Ignoring Brett, she looked at Mick. “Conference room one—the Millers are waiting.”

  “Five minutes,” he promised, and came around the desk.

  “Seven,” Brett corrected.

  “Five,” Mick said in his best big-brother voice, which usually was enough to buy him a few minutes before the smart-ass started in again. He waited for Sophie to close the door behind her, then crossed his arms and glowered at Brett.

  “You need to cut the shit with Sophie.”

  “Yeah.” Brett smirked. “That’s gonna happen. She’s tall, built, brunette, and hasn’t kicked me in the balls yet. I think she digs me.” Not only was Brett an ex-cop, but he and their brother Carson co-owned a multi-million-dollar security firm. He was well aware of the trouble pushing the envelope could buy him, and yet he did it at every turn.

  “You’re an ass.” Mick had long ago stopped fighting the losing battle of getting Brett to shape up.

  Brett arched a brow. “Come on, you didn’t even try. Ass?”

  “I’ve had a shit day.” He leaned his butt against his desk and eyed his watch. “If she says I’m busy, I’m busy.” His brother knew that, of course, but he also knew that short of meeting with the President of the United States, Mick would always make time for him, as he would any of their siblings.

  “You don’t look very busy.” Brett ran an assessing eye over his brother. “In fact, you look like hell. Hm.”

  He’d been up half the night thinking about Amanda. Not only did his sheets smell like her, but even after changing them, his body had refused to sleep without her. He’d spent hours picking apart their weekend, his feelings, the bomb about having children she’d dropped on him last night. At three o’clock in the morning he’d finally sent her a text with a selfie of them he’d taken and the message, Loved our secret weekend. She’d texted back at five thirty with Thanks for a perfect weekend. Ugh, Monday. See you soon.

  Soon turned out to be several hours later, when she’d brought a file into the conference room during a meeting. They’d locked eyes, and Mick was sure everyone in the room would have burns from the path blazing between them. She’d said, Happy Monday, Mr. Bad, to which he’d responded, Thank you, Ms. Jenner. That was the extent of their conversation. He’d excused himself from the meeting to try to catch up with her, but she’d already ducked into another conference room. He hadn’t had two seconds to seek her out since.

  Brett rubbed his chin. “Let’s see what that could mean. A, you need to get laid, but according to Logan, that’s been taken care of.”

  “Christ,” Mick muttered. Logan? What the fuck?

  “Which brings me to B. You’re exhausted from getting laid and frustrated because…?”

  Mick wasn’t taking the bait until he knew how much Brett had already been told. “Logan?”

  “He and I had drinks with Dylan last night. Apparently he spoke to Willow, who didn’t realize Logan had no clue—like the rest of us—that you were nailing your off-limits paralegal. She talked, he listened, and shared with the rest of the class.”

  “Great.” Mick paced. “I’m not nailing Amanda.”

  “A sexless weekend with the girl you’ve been pining over for years? That definitely explains why you look the way you do.” Brett kicked his foot up on Mick’s desk. Mick swatted it to the floor.

  “I haven’t been pining over anyone.” Lusting, maybe, but pining was for pussies.

  Brett scoffed.

  “And it was anything but a sexless weekend.”

  “Then what’s the issue?”

  “The issue? Who said there’s an issue?”

  Brett rose to his feet and met Mick toe-to-toe. “Your face. Spit it out, bro, or Soph’s going to come back in and you’ll be forced to see me hitting on her again.”

  Mick laughed. “You are an ass.”

  “Noted. Spill.”

  “She’s…” He glanced out the window, remembering so many moments—their intense connection across the room at the bar crawl, the way she’d looked at him when he’d revealed his identity to her Friday evening, the sweet, loving way she’d looked at him last night. He felt himself smiling, and before Brett could ride him for it, he came clean.

  “She broke me, bro. I told her about Lorelei.”

  Brett’s smirk fell, and his jaw tightened. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, the taboo subject swelling between them.

  “I know,” Mick said firmly. “I fucking know.”

  They both paced, two caged tigers circling the same demon. “And?”

  “And you already know.” There was no fooling any of his brothers, especially the one whose career was built on uncovering secrets and lies. For all Mick knew, Brett already knew every last detail of their weekend, including the necklace. Nah, he’d never go that far, but he could, and that was the point.

  “She broke me and there’s no going back.”

  “So, what’s the issue?” Brett stopped pacing. “And don’t tell me there is no issue.”

  Mick shrugged. “She wants kids.”

  “Of course she does. She’s a chick,” Brett said. “She’s got ovaries and a uterus and hormones that make her want all sorts of things. A white picket fence. A dog. Flowers and shit.”

  When Mick didn’t respond, Brett said, “Does she want kids now?”

  “No.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “Next week? Next month?”

  “No. Damn, Brett, cut the shit.”

  “This is absurd.”

  Mick glared at him and stalked out of his office to pace the halls. Of course it’s fucking absurd. He stared at the path he’d worn in the carpet over the years, remembering Amanda’s comment about him doing so. He wasn’t about to ask her not to have children, for fuck’s sake.

  “They’re getting antsy,” Sophie said as she came up behind him.

  “Two minutes. Promise.” He reached for the doorknob as Amanda came around the corner. She slowed, her lips tugging up into a smile. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he missed her, to hold her and kiss her. But Sophie passed behind her and said, “One minute!” reminding him he was already too far behind to risk taking any longer.

  He smiled at Amanda as she stepped behind him. “Hey.”

  “It’s Monday,” she said.

  He noticed she had on the necklace he’d given her, and it made him warm all over. “We made it.” He eyed the door. “I’m really sorry, but I’m so late—”

  Her face went serious. “Of course. Go,” she said, and hurried down the hall.

  Mick pushed open the door, feeling like he was being pulled in a hundred direc
tions. Brett snapped to attention, arms crossed, chin up.

  “I love her,” Mick said. He hadn’t intended to blurt that out, but hell, it was the truth. “She’s it for me. It. As in no other woman will ever come close.” He walked around his shocked brother and gathered his files for his client meeting. “But I’m a fucked-up bastard.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Brett came to his side, bravado and cockiness gone.

  His serious, pained expression reminded Mick of the boy Brett had been before they’d lost their sister. More specifically, the look he’d had after Lorelei, the only person on earth who’d ever been able to temper the beast, had soothed his anger.

  A shiver ran down Mick’s spine.

  “Listen, Mick. Losing Lorelei fucked us all up. No doubt about it. It sucks, and unfortunately, there’s no one we can kill for taking her away. Believe me, I’ve tried.” He said that with regret, not humor. “Dad did a job on us, or more specifically, you, but you’re miles past that asshole. Now it’s your turn, and you’ve never stood back and waited for something or someone to clear a path.”

  A knock sounded, and they both turned toward the door as Sophie pushed it open and peeked in. “It’s been too long. They’re gnawing on the conference room table. I’m afraid I’ll have to install monkey bars soon.”

  Without missing a beat, Brett’s lips curved up in a devilish grin. “I’ll install them tonight; then we can try them out.”

  Mick glared at him.

  “What? After hours, of course,” Brett said.

  Sophie cracked a mischievous smile that lit up her blue eyes. “Don’t worry, Mick. I have a feeling Brett’s all talk but no action.” She closed the door behind her.

  “Told you she dug me,” Brett quipped.

  “One day someone’s going to call you on your shit and we’ll be stuck getting your ass out of jail. Again.” Mick pulled Brett into a manly embrace. “I love you, man.”

  “You too.”

  “Shit, sorry. I sidetracked you. What’d you come here for?” Mick opened the door, and they walked toward the conference room.