Page 25 of Rescuing Micah (Prey Security: Cyber Team #3)

“It’s getting the mail,” Teresa reminded Micah with an eyeroll.

Not that she really minded him being so overbearingly protective.

Just because she wouldn't admit it out loud didn't mean that she wasn't secretly pleased that he was looking out for her like he used to. Those were the good old days, the days when she had more responsibility than ever as Simon started acting out, but there was someone looking out for her, too. It had made all the difference in the world, and she’d missed that the most after her assault and Micah’s departure from her life.

Of course, she’d had her mom. Her mom had always been a good mom, and none of them could help the fact that their husband and father had tragically passed away, leaving them struggling.

They’d all done the best they could with what they had to work with, and Teresa knew her mom carried a lot of guilt about piling so many things on her daughter’s shoulders.

Once upon a time, Micah had made all that pressure so much easier to manage, and it was so tempting to give in and let him take that role again.

Especially after how great he’d been these last few days.

Yesterday, after he’d found her dizzy and almost passing out in her bedroom when she got up to go to the bathroom, he’d cleaned her wounds, arranged for a nurse to make a home visit, organized a prescription of antibiotics, and insisted she hang with him in the living room so he could keep an eye on her.

Which turned out to be exactly what she needed.

Admitting it kind of sucked because she didn't want to add more points in Micah’s favor, but he was right, cutting herself off from everyone wasn't helping her. So after he settled her on the couch, tucked under a blanket, with one of her favorite childhood movies playing on a new TV he must have bought, with all her favorite snacks, she’d replied to all the messages from her friends.

That first one was the hardest to type out, but with each one it got easier until she was trying to keep conversations with five different people all straight in her mind so she didn't type out answers in the wrong message thread. Even Josiah had sent her a brief message updating her on the progress he’d made.

It wasn't a lot of progress, but they were chipping away at the trafficking ring, closing down more and more of their operations. Sooner or later, the woman in charge would mess up and then they’d have her.

Teresa couldn’t wait.

“But you’d have to go all the way down to the ground floor to get the mail,” Micah reminded her as though she didn't know how her own building worked.

“Well, I’d have to walk down the hall to the elevator and ride in it to the ground floor, then cross the lobby to the mailboxes.” He was acting like it was a twenty-mile hike through dense vegetation.

“You’re safer in here.”

“You’d be with me.”

“I was with you when you were taken, it didn't help much then.”

“Not your fault,” Teresa reminded him firmly.

Yesterday, he’d given her a little tough love.

Today, she needed to do the same for him.

She’d been so caught up in her own emotions that she hadn't given much thought to how Micah was handling everything. Just because they were no longer a couple, no longer even friends, she’d still once cared deeply about him, loved him, just because he’d hurt her didn't mean all those feelings had died. They’d just been tainted, turned sour.

Now maybe they were sweetening again.

At least a little.

“Come on,” she wheedled, “a whole bunch of the new kitchen gadgets I ordered have arrived, and I want to cook us something for dinner. It’ll only take one trip if we both go, otherwise, you’re going to have to leave me here and make two trips down to get them.

” That was playing a little dirty because she knew leaving her alone was the last thing Micah wanted to do, but she really wanted to stretch her legs a little.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Down and straight back up.”

“All I can handle right now anyway, especially if I want to cook something for dinner,” she quickly agreed. The medication was helping, and she felt a little better today, but still tired and washed out.

As they headed out of her apartment, Micah stuck close to her side. Close enough that she could feel the slight brush of his body against hers, and she hated that her treacherous body ignited at the slight touch.

Okay, maybe she didn't really hate it.

Resent it.

A little.

Not as much as she should.

It didn't take them long to get down to the lobby and greet the doorman, who had a whole stack of parcels waiting for her. While it might seem silly to some, replacing her broken cooking equipment had been her top priority because cooking was her happy place. One she needed more than ever.

“Package for a Ms. Dash,” a delivery woman appeared in the building’s doorway right as the doorman had started filling Micah’s arms with the already delivered parcels.

“That’s me,” she said, walking toward the woman.

“Teresa,” Micah hissed.

“It’s fine, I'm not going to be out of your sight, and it will take literally a few seconds to sign for it and grab it,” she reminded him.

It wasn't that she didn't take the bounty on her head seriously, she absolutely did. The last thing in the world she wanted was to wind up back in the trafficking ring’s clutches, but Micah was right there, a dozen feet away, and that made her feel safe.

Crazy since she’d spent the last decade loathing him.

Hurrying over to the woman, she signed, grabbed the package, and was closing the door when someone suddenly rushed it.

If it was actually possible for a heart to jump out of the chest, then that’s what would have happened.

She gasped, stumbled forward, and probably would have fallen flat on her face if someone hadn't darted out a hand to catch her.

When she looked up, it was to meet the last pair of eyes she ever expected to see again.

“Simon,” she murmured.

Twelve years might have passed since that night, but all it took to throw her right back into the past like it was happening around her right now was meeting her brother’s gaze.

It didn’t matter that her brother no longer looked like the same fifteen-year-old boy he’d been when he’d stood by, leaning against their living room wall, his arms crossed, a cold, calculating look she’d never seen in his eyes before.

Now he was older. His head shaved, tattoos covering the skin on the top of his head and his neck.

That coldness she’d seen that night had devolved into something she could only describe as pure evil.

An emptiness that said he truly didn't care that he was hurting his own sister.

Being related to him wasn't going to save her.

Any humanity her brother had ever had inside him had died when he was a fifteen-year-old boy who decided to sell his sister’s body for money.

He shouldn’t be there.

Wasn't supposed to be there.

There was a restraining order that was supposed to make him keep his distance.

Not that a piece of paper could ever really keep him away.

“Sister,” Simon sneered the word like it was a bad one. “Ms. Perfect, always has everything together, the boss of the world, too good to be human, sister.”

If she hadn't already known her brother hated her with a passion, then the utter disdain in his voice would have made that fact crystal clear.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yet here I am,” Simon snapped.

Searching his gaze, Teresa tried to find any remnant of the little boy she’d once loved.

Before their father’s death, Simon had been a bit of a troublemaker, but he hadn't been evil. That all changed in the car accident that took their father’s life.

An accident that Simon had also been involved in because he’d been in the car.

Counselling hadn't helped, and over the years, Simon just got worse and worse.

“I need money.”

“You need to leave,” Teresa corrected. There was no way in hell she was giving her brother money that he’d spend on drugs.

“Always were a little goody two-shoes, weren't you?” Taking a threatening step forward, the hand he still had on her elbow tightened to the point it would likely leave behind bruises, yanked her closer. “Let me make this clearer, sister. I'm not asking. I'm here for money.”

If Micah hadn't been there, Teresa wasn't sure how she would have reacted to her brother’s unexpected visit. But knowing Micah was just feet away, that he would notice what was happening at any second, emboldened her.

Meeting her brother’s gaze head-on, she stood straight and tall, ignoring the pain throbbing in her stomach. “I never tried to be perfect, Simon. All I wanted was to be a decent human being, something you obviously don’t care about at all.”

Simon growled, rage pouring off him, and he drew back his fist to give her a strike Teresa would happily take because for the first time in twelve years she had stood up to the person responsible for her assault.

May 5 th

12:03 P.M.

“Touch her and die,” Micah snarled as he snapped out a hand and caught Simon Dash’s fist before it could slam into Teresa’s face.

All he’d done was take his eyes off her for a matter of seconds, and she’d been accosted by her despicable brother.

Honestly, he’d love to kill Simon for what he’d done to his sister. Snap the man’s neck like it was the twig it was. End his life so Teresa could be free of the fear that her brother might pop back up and hurt her all over again.

Killing Simon slowly would also be fun. He’d learned a lot in his years as a SEAL, and he knew how to keep someone alive while inflicting unfathomable pain. Simon deserved a whole lot worse than that for what he’d done.

If there had been any justice at all, he’d be serving a life sentence, since Teresa was certainly serving one.

Rape victims always did.