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“I ain’t leavin’ until I get my fuckin’ rent money.”
Keith snorted. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath. Then he lifted the shotgun so it was level with his father’s head instead of his chest.
Mickie held her breath as she stared at Keith’s face, looking for any sign that he about to pull the trigger.
The man stopped advancing. “You owe me, boy. I raised you and your ungrateful sib—”
“We owe you nothing. You aren’t getting the rent money or another cent from me. Now, you have ten seconds to get the fuck outta here before I shoot you and leave you here to bleed out and die alone in the cold like you deserve.”
If she’d thought his voice poisonous before, she’d been wrong. Now, Keith’s tone held the promise of death, and she had no doubt he’d pull that trigger if his father didn’t leave. Though she could only see the back of his father’s head now, something in Keith’s words or demeanor must have registered through the booze-soaked haze because his father raised his hands in surrender.
“This ain’t over, boy,” he said as he started to back away. The man didn’t seem to have arrived in a vehicle, so at least they didn’t need to worry about him getting behind the wheel and killing someone.
Keith waited until his father had teetered far enough down the road he was nearly out of sight before lowering the weapon and turning his flat gaze on Mickie.
She ran her trembling fingers through her hair.
“Are you—”
“I, uh, I need to find my keys.” The phone too, but that was probably a loss as there was no way the screen survived the ordeal. She pushed off the car then scooped up the phone, which had landed a few feet away. Sure enough, the entire screen looked like a spiderweb pattern of cracks.
“Mickie,” Keith started.
She continued scanning the ground. If she looked at him, she’d lose it entirely. The man barely tolerated her as it was. The last thing he’d want was his neighbor breaking down in front of him. “It’ll just take a minute then I’ll be out of your hair.” Her limbs still shook, and her insides felt like they’d been zapped with a live wire.
Keith needed to walk away and leave her to her task. If she didn’t find her keys and get out of there in the next few seconds, it was going to happen. The major freak out she’d tamped down was going to spew out her eyes, giving Kieth another reason to find her weak and unable to handle life.
“Where the fuck are they?” she mumbled.
She must look like a total idiot searching the dark ground for the dropped keys.
“Mickie,” he said again, with bite this time.
God, if he made a comment about how she better not go home and drink she’d snatch the shotgun and shoot him.
“Y-yes?” Oh fuck, her voice shook with impending tears and her breath started to come in pants. Years of public attention had taught her to suppress her emotions in front of crowds and cameras, and for the first time ever, while sober, she was about to fail miserably.
“Michaela!”
Her head shot up and she stared at Keith who held her keys out by the generic ring. Fire shot from his eyes. He reminded her of a dangerous caged animal, itching to be freed. She wasn’t sure it would be wise to be present when he broke free.
“Thank you.” She reached out for the keys. “I’ll g-get out of your, uh, h-hair.”
He pulled they keys just out of her reach. “Go in the lobby. I need to check you out.”
She blinked, arm still outstretched. “What? No. I’m fine. Just give me the keys. I need to get going.”
“Michaela. Get in the lobby.” His eyes fell closed as though he was praying for patience.
Well, too bad. She was about to lose her shit and needed, needed to leave. “No, Keith, really. I’m fine and I just want to go home.”
Opening his eyes, he walked toward her. “Michaela,” he said as he cupped her sore cheek. “Please go in the lobby so I can make sure you aren’t hurt. If you won’t do it for you, do it for me. I’ll never sleep tonight if I don’t make sure you’re okay.”
Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. A second ago, she’d have thought nothing could have convinced her to stay. But the genuine concern in Keith’s voice and the gentle touch of his hand to her face had her agreeing. “O-okay,” she whispered then hurried toward the dimly lit lobby. She swallowed as his footsteps fell in line behind her.
A volcano was about to blow, but one question still remained. Would it be him or her who erupted first?
CHAPTER TWELVE
KEITH HAD NEVER experienced an immediate surge of incendiary anger like he did the second he spotted his father accosting Mickie. And he’d spent the better part of his life angry at someone or something.
