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"Then I have a dress to finish. Good luck."
As she moved from the kitchen, he watched, feeling the warmth in the room leave with her.
For a moment, he was half-tempted to agree to take her. Hell, he wanted her there. But Mikayla had no business around men such as Martin Kefler. The fact that she was associated with him through one of her customers wasn't the same, Nik told himself.
He'd managed to hurt her, though. His need to protect her was riding hard; the softness of her, the gentleness she brought to his life, was becoming more important, more imperative.
He didn't want her anywhere near Kefler.
As the thought dug into Nik's soul, his cell phone vibrated at his side.
"Steele," he answered quickly, keeping his voice quiet.
"I have some additional information," Ian informed him. "I was told to give this personally."
Nik's lips thinned as he glanced back to the hall Mikayla had disappeared through.
"You'll have to come here."
She was behind on the dresses, Nik knew. Ian could make the trip here just as easily as Nik and Mikayla could make the trip to D.C.
"I'll bring Kira with me," Ian stated. "She can talk dresses with Ms. Martin while we discuss this. Give us about two hours for arrival. There's still a few things I have to clear up."
"I'll be waiting."
Nik disconnected the call before breathing out roughly and staring back at the file on Martin Kefler.
Mikayla was right. Getting a meet with Kefler wasn't easy. He was a wary son of a bitch, and a tough one to boot. She had the perfect in, because according to the information Nik was looking at, Kefler's mistress, Eloise Lancaster, was supposedly his only weakness.
Ms. Lancaster, lead singer for a female rock band named the Jezebels, had her own personal bodyguard, and more than one man had died for attempting to get too close to her. Men who thought striking out at the mistress was suitable revenge against the 187
criminal they were dealing with.
Kefler had shown them differently and made an example of more than one of them.
Rising from the chair, Nik moved to the back room; standing at the open doorway, he watched as Mikayla pieced together material meticulously, a frown on her brow as she lifted her gaze to him.
He could see the anger still simmering there, as well as the hurt.
"Kira Richards and her husband, Ian, will be arriving in a few hours," he told Mikayla. "Ian and I have some business interests, and I think Kira wants to discuss dresses."
Mikayla's brow arched. She wasn't buying that explanation, and the proof of it was the skepticism in her narrowed gaze.
"That's fine," she finally answered before turning her attention back to the material.
"Mikayla, Kefler is too dangerous for me to allow you to accompany me," Nik tried to offset the anger he could feel brewing in her.
She paused again before lifting her head, those amethyst eyes shooting flames back at him now.
"Why don't you just tell me who's going to decide what's too dangerous for me or not too dangerous for me once you decide to ride right out of my life?" Graceful hands went to her hips in challenge. "You know what, Nik? I'm getting real sick of hearing what you think might be too dangerous for me when accompanying you means no more than going to a damned bar or a home office with you to meet with the boyfriend of one of my clients."
Her lips were set, her gaze piercing, as she glared back at Nik now.
"Kefler isn't someone I want you associated with."
Her brows shot up. "Since when is that your choice?"
"Since I became your lover, that's when."
