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He didn't understand why she would want the balls so badly. She wasn't someone who would hold onto something so trivial, but he didn't bother asking. She sounded pissed off enough.
Her voice prickled over the speaker. "I will be there in five days. I want those balls, Strap. Don't waste any more of my time or else."
He nodded, leaning onto the railing. "And when I find them and give them to you, you'll leave me alone?"
He and Mickey. Both of them.
"Yes. That’s the deal. Give me my baseballs, and you don’t have to worry about me again."
He nodded, looking back toward the bed. She was still asleep. He sighed, not wanting her to overhear the conversation.
"All right, I'll see you then."
He ended the call, rubbing at his eyes. He needed coffee and a moment to collect himself. He needed to figure out how he was going to make everything work out in the end.
He slipped back inside, made a pot of coffee, and started on breakfast. He was rummaging through the fridge when Mickey stepped into the room.
She stretched, taking a deep breath when she entered. He smiled at her, his animals growling with need. Last night hardly even calmed his hunger for her.
He walked to her, pulling her into a good morning kiss. She leaned into him for a moment before she leaned back. "What are you up to?" She chuckled, slipping past him toward the coffee.
"I made breakfast and figured we could get started on the day." He thought of the baseballs, wondering how he was going to find them.
He could ask her, but he didn't want to raise any suspicions. He was still earning her trust.
"Coffee, God, that's what I need." She poured a cup and seated herself in the living room. She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "What's on your mind?"
"Wild question." He rubbed his hands behind his back. "Do you ever remember anything about your father stealing signed baseballs?"
Her eyebrows rose as she sipped her coffee. She was clearly interested.
"No, why?"
"Well, they were the reason I was looking for him." It wasn't a complete lie. So, he could go with it. "I was hoping to ask him about them, but he isn't here, so you're my next best option."
She took another sip of her coffee before she shook her head. "No, but I could find them. Are they of importance to you?"
"In a way. And how would you find them?"
She nodded her head toward the boxes that he'd forgotten about. She pulled herself up and went over to them, popping the lid off of one. She pulled out an old worn-out journal.
His eyes widened as she set her coffee down to flip through it. "It would seem my father kept track of everything he sold and who he sold it to if he didn't keep it. It's actually a really detailed journal. There are probably about five of them in total."
He blinked. How had he not known that Mick kept a journal of everything? He'd never seen the man writing in one. Then again, there seemed to be a lot about Michel he didn't know.
He reached for the journal, but she yanked it back. She scowled at him. "Easy there, nudist. What do you want the signed baseballs for?"
Fuck. Of course, she would want to know that.
He swallowed, forcing his mind to think. "I know who he stole them from, and I'd like to return them." It was an easy lie.
Her brow lifted. "You want to steal them back and resale them?"
He gave her a nod, and she stepped around him, waving the journal as she went. "Well, that isn't happening unless you tell me the details. You didn't really think I'd give you the information you wanted and just let you go alone, did you?"
He scowled at her, about ready to blow his top. She was a pain in his ass, and she grew worse each day, it seemed. His panther bristled with the need to protect her too. She could never know about Nydia, and Nydia never needed to know about her.
"Can't you trust me on this?" He chuckled, walking after her. "Come on. It would be a waste of your time."
