Chapter 5: Ruby - Keeping Knight

“So, you’re Ruby.”

Tall and muscled, with light brown hair and freckles, Micah’s friend flashes me a bright smile and offers his hand. His gaze dips to my neck, and his features go hard for a moment. But just as quickly, his expression shifts to friendly again.

“It’s nice to meet the mysterious woman who got Knight into cooking,” he continues. “The extent of my cooking expertise is microwaving frozen dinners. And stopping into the bakery to pick up these.”

With the hand not holding mine, he holds up a white cardboard box for display. “Not for now, of course,” he explains. “But I thought you guys might like them for later.”

“Hi,” I reply, hiding my wince when my throat protests. I’ve been drinking tea and water since I got up, but it hasn’t helped much. “I’m not sure I’m the one who got Micah into cooking. He joined the class before he even met me.”

“But he stuck it out.” He flicks a glance at Micah. “How many weeks now? And it’s not like you need to cook for yourself. Not when⁠—”

“Maybe you could try introducing yourself,” Micah interrupts. “Instead of going on about cooking.”

I already know who he is, since Micah told me before answering the door. This man with the friendly smile and smattering of freckles is Jester—aka Jaxon—who first served with Micah on the same Delta team and now works at Fox & Falcon with him.

“Right.” Jester hands the box to Micah. “I’m Jaxon. Or Jester, if you’d prefer.” His smile sobers. “And on a more serious note, while I am glad to meet you, I’m sorry it’s under circumstances like this.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell him. “And trust me, I’d prefer different circumstances, too.”

Micah flips open the box and chuckles. Then he angles the box towards me to display several rows of elaborately-decorated donuts arranged inside. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

“I was going right past the place,” Jester retorts. “Donuts always put me in a better mood.” His gaze slides to the bruises ringing my neck again. “And they’re soft. So they shouldn’t be too painful to eat.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. “You’re right about donuts. They usually put me in a better mood, too.”

“Well.” Micah says. “Why don’t we head into the dining room while we wait for the others?”

Jester and Micah exchange a quick glance. After a beat, Jester nods. “Sounds good. But I think I’ll grab a drink from the kitchen first.”

As he takes off across the living room, Micah turns to me. “You don’t have to eat the donuts,” he says. “Not if you aren’t feeling up to it. Or if you don’t like them.”

“I do. Like donuts, I mean. It was nice of Jester to bring them.”

“He has a thing about donuts,” Micah explains. “I think he’d have them for every meal, if he could.”

“Every meal?” I’m not sure I can reconcile Jester, who looks to be in as good of shape as Micah, to a person who eats donuts all the time.

“If he could. But he doesn’t. Not with the requirements of our job.”

“So you work out a lot?” I ask. No sooner than the question is out, a memory of Micah’s bare chest comes to mind. Not just his muscled chest, but the broad shoulders above it and the eight-pack beneath.

Something stirs deep inside me, sending a pulse of heat to my core. My stomach flutters. My heart skips a beat.

Apparently, even after my brush with death, my libido is still working just fine. And now that it’s seen Micah in all his shirtless glory, it’s even more affected by him than before.

Because of course I’ve thought about Micah in a sexual way. It would be close to impossible not to, given the hours spent beside him in a hot kitchen, watching his forearms and biceps work, noticing the pull of his T-shirt across his shoulders and chest, glimpsing that bare sliver of skin whenever he stretches…

“Most every day,” Micah replies. “I got into the habit back when I was in the Army. And working for Fox & Falcon, it just goes with the job. It might not seem necessary, given that I spend a lot of time working with the dogs. But I work in the field, too. If I’m helping with security for a big fundraiser or providing personal protection for a client, it’s important that I can take on any threat that might arise. Which means I need to stay in shape.”

“That makes sense.” As my gaze drifts towards his chest, I jerk it back to his face. “I’m sorry about interrupting your workout this morning,” I add, “since it’s part of your job.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Micah’s hand comes to my back, and he guides me away from the front door and through the living room. “I can skip a day. It’s not a problem.”

“Still. I don’t want to interrupt your routine. Staying here is already putting you out⁠—”

“Ruby.” Micah turns me to him. “We already talked about this. You are not putting me out. I asked you to stay because I want you here. So don’t think you’re inconveniencing me. You’re not. Alright?”

I’m not typically an insecure person. A little introverted, yes. I like small groups better than large ones, and I’m perfectly happy spending a weekend alone in my apartment with some books and a paint-by-number kit for company. But on a normal day, if a person offered to do something for me, I’d take them at their word.

But today isn’t a normal day. And I’m not feeling myself. Not even close. I’m anxious and tired and worried and scared and feeling a host of other emotions I can’t even put words to. Plus, staying at Micah’s adds a new element to our relationship. A big one. We aren’t just friends who see each other once a week. I’m living with Micah. He comforted me after my nightmare and made me breakfast and sat with me in the solarium, talking until well after the sun came up.

Oh, and he saved my life; putting himself in danger in the process. If my attacker had still been inside my apartment when Micah arrived, who knows what could have happened. Micah could have been hurt. Badly injured. Even killed.

My stomach lurches. The idea of Micah getting hurt is awful on its own. And if he was hurt protecting me? That’s even worse.

“Ruby?” Micah rubs my shoulder gently. “Are you okay? Do you need to rest? If you’re not up for this yet, that’s okay. We can reschedule the meeting for later.”

I give myself a quick mental shaking. Get it together. Micah is going out of his way to help, which he doesn’t have to do. He doesn’t have to do any of this.

Which, I realize, is probably another reason why I’m feeling so insecure. If Micah and I were dating, it would make sense. Of course he’d want to protect me. But we’re casual friends, and new ones, at that. He could have just as easily left me at the hospital rather than bringing me here. He doesn’t need to ask his friends over to discuss the possibility of Fox & Falcon taking on my case. He could leave the police to handle it instead.

And maybe, my inner voice of reason adds, what Liam did messed you up more than you want to admit. And it’s hard to accept that a man—a very nice, handsome, obviously successful man—would do more for you than Liam ever would.

Maybe, I concede. That might have something to do with it.

“I’m okay,” I reply. Looking into Micah’s concerned eyes, I force a little smile. “My mind keeps wandering, is all. Now is fine to meet with your friends. Really.”

He regards me for a few seconds, his gaze assessing. “Okay.” Resting his hand on my back again, he continues towards the dining room. “But if you get tired or overwhelmed, just say so. It’s not a problem at all.”

Once we reach the dining room—a room with giant floor to ceiling windows that’s half the size of my entire apartment, Micah leads me over to the twelve-person table and pulls a chair out for me. “Jester’s still rummaging through the fridge,” he says as I scan the empty room. “Probably hiding the ketchup or something like that.”

I sink into the chair. “Hiding the ketchup?”

Micah smiles. “Where do you think he got the nickname from? Jester’s always liked playing pranks on people. You should have seen the shit he pulled when we were younger.”

“Hey,” Jester interjects as he walks into the room, an ice-filled glass of clear liquid in hand. “What are you telling Ruby about me?”

“Just telling her where you got your nickname from,” Micah replies. He sets the box of donuts on the table and turns to Jester. “And how you were probably messing around in the fridge, trying to figure out the best place to hide the ketchup.”

Jester takes a seat across the table and sets his glass down. His eyes widen innocently. “I swear, I didn’t touch the ketchup.”

“The mustard, then?”

Jester grins. “Nope.”

Shaking his head, Micah smiles. Then he gives me a quick smile. “He hid something. We’ll have to hold a search later.”

Warmth fills my chest. I like how he says we. Like we’re a team. Even if our mission is as simple as finding whatever condiment Micah thinks Jester hid from him. “Okay,” I say. “Sounds like a plan.”

Micah squeezes my shoulder again. “Do you want⁠—”

But he’s interrupted by melodic notes of the doorbell chiming. At the same time, his phone buzzes from his pocket. A moment later, a series of quick knocks sounds at the front door. Micah pulls out his phone and glances at the screen, presumably to check the security camera outside the front door, just as he did when Jester arrived.

“It’s Rogue, Wraith, and Houdini,” he says in explanation. “I’ll let them in. Be right back.”

As Micah turns to leave, he glances back at me. “Will you be okay?”

He doesn’t say more. But I know what he’s asking. Will I be okay alone in a room with a man I just met, without Micah there as a buffer?

Maybe if Jester were just a random stranger, and I were meeting him in a public place, I’d be anxious about it. But knowing that Jester is one of Micah’s closest and most trusted friends? I’m not worried at all.

Well, maybe there’s an eensie sliver of worry. But I think that stems from an overall feeling of unease, and not from who Jester is, specifically.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “Go ahead.”

Once Micah leaves the room, Jester rests his arms on the glossy wooden table and smiles at me. In a low, conspiratorial tone, he says, “I didn’t hide anything. Sometimes it’s more fun not to, knowing that Knight will search anyway. But don’t tell him that.”

“Okay.” I can’t say I mind the idea of spending time in the kitchen with Micah, laughing together as we search for whatever Micah thinks Jester hid. “I won’t say anything. Not right away, at least.”

He nods approvingly. “I knew I’d like you. With you staying here, I bet we could come up with a great prank to play on Knight. He’ll never suspect you.”

“I’m not sure about playing a prank,” I begin.

“Are you trying to drag Ruby into your ridiculous pranks?” Rogue asks as he comes into the room. Micah and two other dark-haired men follow behind him. Without giving Jester a chance to answer, Rogue lifts his chin at me and adds, “Hey, Ruby. How are you doing?”

I know Rogue from last night, since he showed up at my apartment and was the one guarding my room at the hospital. Not only is he the founder slash owner of Fox & Falcon Securities, but he’s also Micah’s best friend.

“Hi,” I reply. “I’m doing pretty well. Thanks for last night, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to thank you before. For coming to my apartment, and the hospital…” Belatedly, I remember that Micah said Jester had been at the hospital, too, even though I never saw him.

“Jester,” I add, turning to him. “I’m sorry. You were there last night, too. I should have thanked you right away.”

Jester waves his hand dismissively. “It was nothing. I was up anyway.” He smirks at the larger of the dark-haired men, who’s a head taller than the others and broad with obvious muscle. “Not like Houdini here. I’m sure he was busy getting his beauty sleep.”

“Hardly,” Houdini retorts. He shoots Jester a wry look. “If you recall, I was flying back from Baltimore last night. Sitting behind a baby with colic, I’ll add. No earplugs are prepared to deal with that.”

He walks over to my chair and crouches down before me, which is both a relief, since he’s not towering over me, but also intimidating, because he’s just so darn big. But as soon as Houdini smiles, his entire demeanor changes. He looks gentler. Kinder. “Hi, Ruby,” he says. “I’m Houdini. Or you can call me Val. It’s nice to meet you.”

As I’m shaking his hand, the other dark-haired man approaches. I’m guessing he must be Wraith, since he’s the only one I haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s good-looking in that tall, dark, and handsome way, with strands of silver at his temples and a piercing gaze. He doesn’t come out and smile, but the corners of his lips lift slightly. “Ruby,” he says in an accent I can’t quite place. “I’m Diego. These guys call me Wraith. Sorry to hear about everything that happened. But we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Thanks,” I reply, feeling a little overwhelmed at being the focus of so much attention. “I told Micah I could just let the police handle things⁠—”

“Hardly,” Rogue interrupts. He takes a seat at the head of the table and pulls out his phone. “Not that I have anything against the police. They’re fine. But we can do things they can’t.”

Micah slides into the seat beside me. His proximity eases some of the tension binding my chest. “Rogue is right,” he says. “The police are bound by certain rules. Bureaucracy, you know? And they’re often stretched thin. So they can’t give the amount of attention to a case that a private company like ours can.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Not that I don’t believe you.”

“We can spend more time on investigations,” Rogue answers, “because we don’t take on more cases than we can handle. The police don’t have the same luxury. Also, without all the red tape they have to deal with, we can work more expediently.”

“And,” Micah adds, “we can be more creative with our methods. Nothing illegal,” he adds quickly, though the lightning-fast glance he shares with Rogue makes me wonder. “But we have contacts. Specialized skills. Things that help solve investigations sooner.”

“And when it comes to the issue of your safety,” Wraith says solemnly, “the faster the threat can be neutralized, the better.”

“Oh. Okay.” I swallow to moisten my throat. “So… what can you do? And what do you need to know?”

“First off,” Rogue says. “I’m thinking it’ll help to give a quick overview of the roles we play in the company. So you know who’ll be dealing with the various elements of your case. I head up the cybersecurity division and help with investigations. Anything related to computers, really.”

“And Rogue’s fiancée, Sofia,” Micah adds, “heads up our Sentries division. Any pro-bono cases go through her, but depending on the details of the case, any of the other divisions will help.” He glances at me. “So you don’t have to worry about paying, Ruby. If you agree to let us take on your case, we’ll run it through the Sentries division. There won’t be any charge.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I reply quickly. I don’t want Micah to view me as just some charity case. I want him to… what? Look at me as more than a friend? As more than just another Fox & Falcon client?

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“I can pay,” I explain. “When my dad passed away, he left me money. Not as much—” I almost gesture at Micah’s condo, which had to cost well into seven figures. But I stop myself. Micah’s never talked about his money, and until last night, I had no idea how wealthy he was. Which makes me think maybe he’d rather I didn’t bring it up. “Well. I can pay. That’s all.”

“We can figure out specifics later,” Micah says. He pats my arm and gives me a reassuring smile. “So. You know I head the canine services division. And I do all the medical training. Nothing extensive, just basic first aid and triage.”

“I’m in charge of event security and risk management,” Jester adds. “And the lesser-known but also important pranks division.”

Houdini chuckles. “Very important, for sure.” He looks at me. “I lead the security systems division. And I also specialize in explosives—detection and prevention.”

“And I lead up the communications division,” Wraith finishes. “I handle the client side of things, especially regarding our foreign contacts. And I help with investigations.”

“So,” Rogue says after giving me a moment to take it all in. “Hopefully, that helps a little.”

“It does,” I agree. “It’s really interesting. I looked up Fox & Falcon before, but⁠—”

My cheeks warm. That just made me sound like I was checking up on Micah. Which I wasn’t; at least not exactly. It’s just that he told me where he worked, and I was curious…

“It’s fine, Ruby.” Micah rubs my arm. “Of course you’d look up F&F after I mentioned it. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t.”

Rogue nods approvingly. “Absolutely. Better to be informed than not.” He pauses. “We don’t usually all show up to a potential client meeting. But Knight wanted us all to meet⁠—”

Micah clears his throat. “Anyway.” He glances at me. “How about if you start by going over the events of last night. I know you already told me and the police. But sometimes people remember details they didn’t initially.”

My chest squeezes. I knew this was coming. And I understand why. If I’m going to let Micah’s friends help me, which I’m increasingly seeing the value of doing, they need to hear my story and be able to ask me questions about it.

“Take your time,” Micah adds quietly. His thumb brushes across my forearm, warming my chilled skin. “There’s no rush.”

But I’d really rather not drag this out any longer than necessary. So, with a deep breath and a heavy exhale, I say, “When I first walked into my apartment, the first thing I noticed was that the light didn’t work.”

And from there, I launch into the rest of it.

The certainty that the bulb in the living room had just blown.

The unease when the other light wouldn’t come on.

Taking out my phone to use the flashlight, still convinced my apartment was safe. That because the door had been locked, I had to be alone in there.

My voice shakes a little as I talk, and my hands go clammy beneath the table. But I focus on recalling the minutiae of the minutes before the attack—if I noticed any strange sounds, a piece of furniture out of place, or an unfamiliar smell that didn’t belong there.

I do pretty well until I get to the actual attack. Then my heart starts to race. As hard as I try to distance myself from it, to remind myself that I’m in Micah’s condo and no one can hurt me, I keep getting drawn back into the terror of last night.

As I talk, I can feel the man’s hands around my neck. I feel his weight pinning me down. His scent hits my nose—an unpleasant blend of pine and coffee and deodorant.

My lungs strain for air when I talk about those desperate moments before Micah began to kick at my door. With tears in my eyes, I tell them how I thought I was going to die. And how I barely believed it when my attacker let me go.

“I wasn’t sure,” I say in a small, wobbly voice that sounds nothing like my own, “even when I saw Micah leaning over me. I wasn’t sure if it was real. If he was real. Or if I was dying, and it was just some weird hallucination.”

“Ruby.” Micah clasps my hand beneath the table. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” I glance up from the wooden grain of the table to look at him. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You didn’t attack me. You kicked down the door and saved me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His pained gaze meets mine. “I’m sorry you went through that. And I’m sorry I didn’t walk you upstairs. I should have. Assuming you were safe… it was stupid.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, remember,” Rogue says. “We all have things we would have done differently, had we known.” His mouth pinches unhappily. “But the important thing is that Ruby is safe. And we’re going to keep her that way.”

Micah doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe we should take a break,” he says. “This has been a lot⁠—”

“No.” I shake my head. “Let’s keep going. It’ll be harder to start up again once I stop.”

“In that case, how about we shift gears?” Rogue asks. “Talk about something a little different.”

“Like what?” I ask.

Rogue hesitates. “Like people you can think of with motive to hurt you. Someone with a grudge. Someone who might have something to gain”—he grimaces—“from your death.”

For a second, I can’t breathe. Until now, I’ve been stubbornly clinging to the hope that the attack was random. Deep down, I know there’s a greater chance I was targeted. I just haven’t wanted to think about it, because then it’ll really feel real.

“I don’t know,” I start. “I mean… I work from home. So I don’t have conflicts with people in the office. We have meetings once a week, but I just sit in the back and take notes. I say hi to some people, but…”

“What about ex-boyfriends?” Wraith interrupts. “Friends you may have had a falling out with. A family disagreement.”

Tears spring to my eyes.

Liam couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Just because we didn’t work out, just because he was bitter at the end… he wouldn’t try to kill me. Would he?

“Ruby?” Micah asks. He sounds worried. “Do you need⁠—”

“My ex,” I blurt. “I don’t think he would. But I can’t think of anyone else. I haven’t had any falling-outs with friends. My stepmom and I aren’t close, but to try to hurt me? Kill me? She wouldn’t. Liam is the only one⁠—”

“Liam?” Rogue presses. He scribbles something on his phone with the little stylus he’s been taking notes with. “Tell us about Liam.”

Micah’s hand tightens around mine; not painfully, but securely. And that contact gives me the courage to continue. “Liam and I broke up about eight months ago. But things weren’t great before that.”

“How so?” he asks. “How long did you date? Why did you break up?”

I release a shaky sigh. “Six months, give or take. I met him through a friend of a friend. At first, things were good. He seemed nice.”

Pausing, I steal a quick look at Micah. This isn’t how I ever imagined telling him about my last relationship, surrounded by four of his closest friends. “I guess, in hindsight, dating right after my dad died wasn’t the best idea.” Glancing around the table, I add, “My dad died in August of last year. I wasn’t thinking about dating after that, you know? When I met Liam in October, it was fun at first. A distraction. But the more time we spent together, the less I realized we had in common. Then I found out about the will.”

“What about the will?” Rogue asks.

“My dad was a neurosurgeon,” I explain, “so he did pretty well for himself. And my mom... She passed away twenty years ago. When I was twelve. She had family money. And when she was gone, it went to my dad. Then, when he passed, he left me… well, it was a lot of money.”

“Then what?”

“As soon as Liam found out, he started bringing up all the things I could spend my money on. Trips. A nicer apartment that he could move into. Collectibles. Fancy watches. He wanted me to spend my parents’ money on him. And I didn’t want to.”

“Greedy asshole,” Micah mutters.

“Yeah,” I agree. “He was. I probably let it go longer than I should have. But I finally ended it with him after I caught him with my credit card. Not that he would have gotten much. I never upped the limit since I got it in college. But that was the final straw. I broke up with him. And Liam… he wasn’t happy that his prospective cash cow was gone.”

“Did he make threats?” Micah asks. His eyes narrow. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. Unless you count you’ll be sorry as a threat. But people say that all the time when they break up. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe.” But Micah’s expression says he’s not convinced. He glances at Rogue. “I want to look into him. As soon as possible.”

Rogue nods. “Absolutely.” He flashes me a sympathetic smile. “I know this is hard, Ruby. Talking about all of this. Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?”

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. But rather than keeping the tears at bay, it brings them rushing to my eyes. “I can keep going. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Micah announces. Then he pushes up from his chair and tugs me to my feet. “We’re taking a break.”

“Micah,” I start. My voice wobbles again.

“Ruby.” His gaze meets mine. “We’re taking a break. Let’s go into the kitchen. Get a drink. You need it for your throat, anyway.”

“Good idea,” Rogue agrees. “Whenever you’re ready to start again…”

Micah wraps his arm around my shoulder and leads me from the table. “I’ll let you know,” he says. Then, to me, he adds more kindly, “Come on, Rue. Just a quick break.”

Without giving me a chance to argue, he guides me from the dining room, through the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. Then he takes me over to the large marble island and nudges me onto a stool. While I sit, a little startled by how quickly he got me out of there, he takes a bottle of water from the fridge, twists it open, and sets it in front of me.

“Drink,” he states. “You’ve been talking too much.”

I know I should take issue with how he basically took control—forcing me into a break, marching me into the kitchen, and now ordering me to drink. But as I look into his worried eyes, I can’t bring myself to call him out on it. Not when it’s obvious his intentions were good.

And if I’m being honest with myself, the break is a relief.

So I take a sip of water, closing my eyes at the cool liquid soothing my throat. Then I set the bottle down and look at Micah. “I could have kept going.”

“I know you could have.” He slides onto the stool next to me. “But you didn’t have to. And I don’t want you pushing yourself, making yourself sick...”

A swell of emotion sweeps through me, bringing a fresh surge of tears. Bossy as he may be sometimes, Micah is the kind of man I wish I’d dated instead of Liam. Micah wouldn’t have pushed me to spend my dad’s money. He wouldn’t have rummaged through my wallet. Micah wouldn’t have accused me of being a drag when I was feeling sad and didn’t want to go out.

If I’m being honest with myself, Micah isn’t the kind of man I wish I’d dated. I wish I’d met Micah back then. I wish he was the one I dated, instead.

“Ruby.” Micah brushes a tear from my cheek. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry.” I scrunch my face up, but it doesn’t stop the tears. “I’m just… It’s just been a lot.”

He stares at me for a long moment, indecision darkening his eyes. Then he leans forward and wraps his arms around me, hugging me to him. “I know,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay.”

I sag against him and press my face to his neck. His skin is soft and smells faintly of citrus and mint. “I have to be,” I whisper. “There’s no one else to do it for me.”

“There is now.” His hand strokes my hair. “You have me.”