“Nope, wasn’t me.” A flash of white teeth in sun-darkened flesh, the glimmer of devil’s black eyes.
Micah Sloane, aka Maverick.
She sighed. “You should be home with your family.”
What the hell had Jordan done, pulled in the whole freakin’ team?
“Seen the pictures lately? I’m telling you, that little rugrat is hell on wheels.” Pure pride filled Micah’s voice as he pulled a photo from his inside jacket pocket.
Tehya almost rolled her eyes at the proud papa move.
Laughing, radiant. It was almost as if the picture itself were infused with the love shining from his young blond wife and the toddler, black-haired, black-eyed Trace, she held in her arms. Micah sat beside her, his arm around her, and in his free arm he held an infant dressed in pink. Six-month-old Emmaline Allegiance Sloane.
The boy had a mischievous grin on his face, the daughter innocently content in her father’s arms, and the mother stared back with a secretive Mona Lisa smile. She was a woman who knew the joys, the secrets of being loved by a strong, powerful man.
He tucked the photo away again.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, taking another long sip. “Why aren’t you home with them?”
Fro
m the corner of her eye she watched as he reached up and scratched his jaw while staring at her profile. Black eyes were gentle, his expression compassionate.
“Well, see, I have this friend,” he confided, his voice low enough to carry to her ears only. “She’s in trouble and doesn’t want to accept help. Then I have this other friend. He’s lost his heart and doesn’t want to accept it. I’m here to help both of them. I’m a nice guy like that.”
And she wanted to cry, because he truly was a good friend like that and thought nothing of endangering himself to help a friend.
“Your friend hasn’t lost his heart,” she said, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “Trust me, it’s right there in his chest, just as hard and cold as it ever was.”
Micah chuckled.
“Hey, Teylor, this yahoo botherin’ you?” Casey’s voice came from behind her. It sounded more aggressive than she had ever heard him, and filled with a warning to Micah. Lord love him, Casey had no idea the weapon he was close to challenging.
She could only shake her head wearily.
“Hey, man, I got this,” Micah assured him with an amused, patient smile. “Go find a little plaything of your own, why don’t ya?”
Tehya choked as she fought back a weary groan. She really didn’t need the male posturing right now.
“It’s fine, Casey,” she turned and said to him. “What my friend means is that he’s a smart-mouthed ass, but he’s cool all the same.”
“Oh.” Casey looked at Micah, narrowing his gaze on him, his expression forbidding. “He looks like bad news to me, Tey.”
“Naw, he just likes to bring bad news,” she told him. “Everything’s fine, Casey, I promise.”
Casey scratched his head in confusion, as he looked from Tehya to Micah and back again for a long moment.
“I should just go back and aggravate Journey some more maybe?” he suggested, though Tehya could see the suspicion still darkening his gaze.
Tehya’s nodded somberly. “Yeah, I’d do that, Casey.”
He gave another glance toward Micah before grunting irritably and returning to a still-silent, studious Journey.
“You know, Tey,” Micah drawled, “your choice of friends here is a little immature. Sure you don’t want to come out and play with the big boys and girls again?”
She gave a heavy sigh. “I guess you’re parked here until I leave, right?”
He leaned closer, his expression becoming serious. “It’s like this. I followed you from the house. You had a tail keeping well back for the better part of the way. When you turned in here, they drove off and simply disappeared. Now, what does that suggest to you?”