Morning found them seated at the table playing dominoes. Millie had left a note saying she was going to the store.
“What’s this one called?” Mike asked.
“Southeast Asia,” Peter replied, knocking them down. Micky whistled, eyes large behind his reading glasses. “I swear, Peter, I think that tea did more to you than give you physical acuity.”
Peter smiled secretively. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Mike chuckled and shook his head.
“Micky, why are you still wearing those awful things? Surely you don’t need them now,” Davy asked.
“Never said I did,” Micky grinned at him, tapping the lens. “Plano glass. Chicks dig the helpless-looking intellectual type—you should know that!” he ended with a wink. Peter started giggling helplessly, leaning back until his chair was on two legs.
Millie opened the door at that moment and grinned. “Oh, boys! I picked up a little something at the store!” Mike braced himself. There was something about Millie’s tone that wasn’t quite right. She vanished and came back in with a pretty blonde! “Boys, this is Clarice! I ran into her at the meat department!”
“I don’t think there’s enough room for her in the icebox,” Peter said sincerely.
Millie shot him a grin and pulled Davy aside. “Davy, Clarice here is an English girl!”
Clarice turned to him and cooed, “Charmed, Mister Jones. It is positively overwhelming to meet a close personal friend of Rex Harrison!”
Millie elbowed him in the side, grinning. “Oh well, um . . . ” he stammered.
“I don’t like her,” Micky whispered to Peter.
“I don’t either,” Peter whispered.
“I don’t like her that much,” Mike chimed in.
Less than five minutes later, whatever Davy said Clarice replied with a bored “I don’t care,” at which point even Millie was rolling her eyes.
“Mike, please?”
“No, Micky.”
“Please? Just once knife hand to the neck and she’ll shut up!”
“Micky, no.”
There was a knock on the door mid-‘don’t care’. Mike stood up. “I’ll get it.”
As he did, Peter put a hand on Micky’s arm. “No, Micky.”
Thankful to put a little distance between himself and Clarice, Mike opened the door. “Yes?”
A strange man stood there. “Does Millicent Rudnik live here?”
Mike fought to keep his voice steady even as every internal alarm he possessed started blaring. “Who wants to know?”
“Yes, or no, hotshot?”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “That depends on who you are and what you want.” Despite the adrenaline coursing through him his body was already relaxing, readying itself for fight or flight.
“I want to see Millicent Rudnik.”
Off to the side, Millie’s eyes widened. “I know that voice,” she whispered where only Peter could hear. Even Clarice had shut up watching the tense scene.
“From where?” Peter whispered, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling madly.
“He and my husband had dealings. Well, more like arguments, really.”
“Dealings?” Peter asked, genuinely confused.
“He’d come to the house . . . and fight with him until the wee hours of the morning. Money, I think.”
“Oh,” Peter said.
“Wonder why he wants to see me.” She took a step forward, automatically.
Back at the door, Mike decided he’d had enough of the visitor. “If you won’t tell me, then no—she doesn’t.” He started to close the door.
The man put his foot in the door. “I heard her voice. Millicent, where are you?” His tone changed suddenly to sugary sweet. Mike looked over at Millie, his expression clearly giving her control of the situation. Her eyes were huge as something clicked into place. She shook her head wildly, grabbing onto Peter’s arm.
“Mike, shut it!” Peter shouted. Mike slammed his shoulder against the door. The man howled and tried to slam the door open. “Micky, help!” Mike said, leaning his weight against the door. As long as the man’s shoe was wedged against the jamb he couldn’t close it.
Micky ran over and fired a kick at the man’s foot. With a howl the shoe disappeared, and Mike slammed the door, locking it. He panted for a few seconds before straightening, giving Millie a stern look. “Okay . . . now I think you owe us an explanation.”
“I . . . ” Her eyes trailed to Clarice, who was sliding out the back door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Davy snapped.
She gasped and turned to run, smacking into the glass. Micky sighed, going over and helping her up. “Looks like you got Pete’s klutziness.”
“Let me go! Please let me go!” The English tone was gone, replaced by a New Jersey twang.
“I knew that accent wasn’t real!” Davy said, pointing an accusing finger at Clarice. “Who are you!?”
Her chin raised. “I don’t have to answer your questions. I know my rights.”
Micky subtly wrenched her arm up behind her back. “Not when we’re being threatened, you don’t. Now spill . . . or I’ll break your arm.”
“Micky!” Peter gasped, shocked by Micky’s strong arm tactics.
“Break it,” she snarled back at him. “I’ll go to the doctor, weep and cry that my boyfriend battered me—and you’ll be in jail in hours.”
“Micky, let her go,” Mike said, his voice dangerously soft. Micky shoved Clarice away with a snort. She smiled triumphantly, rubbing her wrist.
“Get out,” Mike said.
“I’m sure my father is still waiting,” she growled and headed for the front door. “Mister Muscle here had better not have broken his foot.”
“I hope I did break his foot!” Micky growled, his face flushed with anger.
“Me too,” she said as she opened the door. “That way I will enjoy killing you.”
“You can try,” Micky said, tilting his chin up. “You’ll find we’re full of surprises.”
“So am I,” she ground out as she left, slamming the door behind her.
“What in the world was that all about?” Mike said.
Millie sank down onto the bandstand, trembling all over.
“Are you okay, Millie?” Peter said, sitting down next to her. “We won’t let anything happen to you—I promise.”
“I thought . . . I thought when Herman died it was over.”
“When what was all over?” Mike knelt down in front of her. “Millie, you have to tell us. We’re involved now, and we need to know.”
She reached for her handkerchief, and was trembling so badly that she dropped it. Peter snagged it before it could hit the floor and handed it back to her with a gentle smile.
She smiled back, then her face crumpled. “Herman was always honest with me. Always. When-when we got married, he had been involved for some years as a ‘runner’. Do . . . do you know what that is?”
Peter shook his head. Davy and Micky both shrugged. “I do,” Mike said. “At least . . . I have a good idea.”
She met his eyes and nodded. “He was young and stupid. It was an easy way to make money.”
“Go on, Millie,” Mike said gently.
She turned to Peter. “He ran money for the mob. He accompanied loan sharks. And occasionally, he ran drugs.”
“The Mob?” Micky moaned. “Man, we gotta go up against the Mob?”
“Micky, would you relax?” Mike barked. “No one’s goin’ up against anyone yet!”
Millie hung her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought this in on you boys.”
“It’s all right, Millie,” Peter said, hugging her carefully. “You didn’t know they’d come here.”
“Why did they come here, I wonder?” Mike said.
She sniffled. “Herman owed them some money. I’ve paid and paid, but they still want more.”
“Wait a minute! You paid them back and they’re still coming after you?” Davy said.
Millie nodded miserably. “I don’t understand it.”
“This ends,” Micky said, his eyes bright. “They can’t keep doing this. We’ll stop them.” Mike shot Micky a warning look.
Millie shook her head. “I can’t let you. I’ll move on again. There’s got to be somewhere they can’t find me.”
“We don’t want you to move,” Peter said. “We want to help. Right guys?”
“Right,” Davy agreed instantly.
“Absolutely,” Mike added. Micky nodded, his eyes still flashing.
“We’re all agreed, then.”
“Looks like it,” Mike said.
Millie just stared at them. “You’re . . . serious?”
Mike crossed his arms, his expression growing stern. “Millie, we may not like it, and we may not ever totally accept it, but part of bein’ the Four Winds is fightin’ evil. And these guys are evil, if they’re comin’ after a widow like this.”
“B-but . . . you could get hurt.” Her eyes showed how much she was struggling with this. It was so easy to be the nurturer, the comforter—not so easy to be the one needing help.
“So could you, Millie. And we can defend ourselves,” Peter said.
She met his eyes. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?”
“Not with Mike and Peter against you,” Davy said with a grin. “Those two are stubborn enough for a whole army.”
Micky double-taked at him. “Those two? Seems like you could give them a run for their money!”
Davy gave Micky a mock-growl. “What—you’re sayin’ I’m stubborn?”
“If the shoe fits . . . ”
With a playful growl Davy leapt at Micky, and the two were quickly lost in a wrestling match.
Millie watched, fascinated.
“Peter?”
“Um . . . Micky,” Peter said. “He’s due for a win.”
Millie looked at him, an ‘I-cant-believe-you-said-that’ expression on her face.
“Relax, Millie,” Mike said, chuckling. “They do this all the time—even before the powers.”
Micky laughed as he pinned Davy to the floor. “Hah!”
“Fine, you win! But I’m not payin’ you!” Davy said, laughing despite himself.
Micky snorted as he rolled off of Davy. “You still owe me from LAST time!”
“Exactly why I’m not paying,” Davy said, brushing himself off. “I don’t have any money.”
Mike grinned and slid a bill to Peter. “Thank you,” Peter said, slipping it into his pocket. “Yes, we take bets,” he said with a grin, noticing Millie’s shocked look.
“Breaks up the monotony,” Micky said, grinning at her. Then he turned serious. “Millie, who are these people? Exactly?”
“Not now, Micky,” Mike warned. “She’s already overwhelmed.” Millie’s eyes were, indeed, starting to glaze slightly.
Peter’s hands closed gently on her shoulders. “Come on, Millie. Sit on the couch, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“And some cheesecake,” Mike murmured.
“Cheesecake?” Micky asked as Millie turned to Mike with a dazed, happy grin.
“Yeah,” Mike said, smiling at Millie. “Cheesecake helps with just about anything.” She beamed openly at him as she accepted Peter’s supportive arm.
On to Six
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