“You did not,” she says, but I sense the hesitation in her voice.
“Did.”
“If that’s the case, then why didn’t you say something when we studied together?”
“Didn’t want to lay all my cards on the table. Had to make you work for it.”
She smacks me in the chest with the flat of her hand, but then stretches up and gives me a scorching kiss.
There is nothing about Mira that has ever been forgettable, not even when we were young. I thought that was my curse, but it’s really my fortune.
“Oh, wait,” she says, and pulls out of my arms, walking toward the back door. “I told Cali I’d bring a few of the giant pine cones we have in our backyard. She’s making some kind of fall centerpiece.”
“You mean like for a dining table? I thought Jaeg did the cooking?”
Mira looks up, exasperated. “What does a centerpiece have to do with food?”
I roll my eyes. As if that makes sense. Girls. “I’ll meet you in the car.”
“Okay,” she says, and slips out the back door.
My car is still in the shop, so I walk toward Mira’s truck, her keys in hand.
A car down the street catches my eye. It’s sleek, black, and parked at an odd angle, as if the driver got out in a hurry.
I turn around and stare at the fence to the backyard. There’s no sound and Mira has only been gone a minute, but something feels off.
“Mira?” I call. “Everything okay?”
She doesn’t answer and my heart begins to race. The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention, my muscles tensing. I run to the gate leading to the backyard and almost bust it down in my attempt to get past the latch.
I hear the sound of feet scuffling, then Mira’s whimper. I tear around the side of the house—to find a vision that nearly stops my heart.
The mug I gave Mira is on its side on the ground, and Mira’s back is pinned to the chest of the asshole who beat her, his arm locked around her throat. He’s leaning over her, his back to me.
I don’t consider stealth. I don’t think of anything except crippling the bastard.
I sweep up the biggest log within reach on my way to them and swing it at the back of his skull.
His head whips forward and he grunts, but his grip doesn’t loosen on my girl. I whack him again, this time nailing him square in the temple.
Asshole goes down, tumbling Mira with him. He doesn’t move.
I haul Mira up by the waist and carry her off to the side. I touch her neck, her face. “Are you okay?”
“H-he was angry—said I got him sent out of town.” Her face is red and blotchy, her expression confused. “I told him I’ve been making my payments.”
I look over at the guy on the ground and pull out my cell phone. Mira buries her face in my chest. “I paid off the man you owe. This guy has no business being here. And even if he did, he has no right to touch you.”
I call 911 and describe the incident.
“What do you mean you paid him off?” she asks when I tuck my phone back.
I glance away, worried how she’ll take this. Mira doesn’t appreciate me telling her what to do, and this falls in the overbearing category. But I’m not letting anyone hurt her again.
Still, I probably should have mentioned it sooner. “I didn’t want you to worry about debt after your mother died. You’d paid most of it off. I paid the last bit. The money you gave Lewis went into a savings account for you.”
She stares at me, her face pale, throat red from the clutch hold that asshole had on her. She hasn’t cried once during this ordeal, proof she’s hard as nails. “Oh.”
