Page 8 of Naughty With The Mountain Man
I pull my phone out again and hit another contact.
“Nate.”
There’s a pause, then, “Micah. You got her?”
“She’s here,” I say. “Safe. For now.”
“Good.”
“She told me you’ve been helping at the teen center. That’s how you know her?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Volunteered there a while back. Been keeping an eye on things. Some of the kids have been mixed up with bad people. One of them might be tied to whoever’s sending the threats.”
“So you sent her here because you thought she’d be safer off the grid.”
“That, and because I knew you’d take it seriously.”
I lean against the counter, watching Ellie through the reflection in the window. She’s still reading, her lips moving just barely like she’s mouthing the words.
“Anything new?” I ask him.
“I’m tracking what I can,” Nate says. “We’ve got a few names—low-level punks who’ve been sniffing around the center. One of them’s got a record for intimidation. Another’s been bragging about a job that’s ‘personal.’ We don’t know yet if it’s connected, but I’m not ruling it out.”
“I’ll send Hale everything I’ve got,” I tell him. “He’s checking local chatter.”
“Good.” Nate pauses. “Micah, you okay?”
I make a low sound. “You and Ellie… you close?”
There’s silence. Then Nate’s tone sharpens. “Why?”
“Just curious,” I say, too fast.
He sighs. “She’s like a little sister, man. That’s all. She’s good people. Kind heart, lousy taste in sweaters. Why?”
I grit my teeth. “No reason.”
“Uh-huh.” He’s smirking; I can hear it. “What, you catching feelings?”
“Don’t start.”
“Too late,” Nate says. “Micah Hunt, the man who swore off emotional attachments, taken out by a guidance counselor in fuzzy socks. I’m marking the date.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying—keep your head. She’s in danger. You start thinking with anything other than your training, you’ll miss something. Stay focused.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“Copy that,” I mutter.
“Good. And Micah?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t screw this up. She trusts you. Don’t give her a reason not to.”
I hang up before I can say something I’ll regret.
