Slow Heat (4 page)

“What’s your name?” he asked, causing her to look up again into those shut-down, dark eyes.

For some reason, it was a relief knowing he didn’t already know who she was. “Maggie,” she offered, not seeing any reason to keep anything from him that was as simple as her name. “Maggie O’Malley.” She gave up looking for the pencil she’d had in her hand before she’d gotten up from her desk and pressed her hands in her lap.

“Nice Irish name.” His lashes were long and she couldn’t be positive, but Maggie thought he was focusing on her breasts and not her face.

“I’ll let my Italian mother know you said so.”

Micah grinned but had already looked away from her and was taking in the items around her office. She watched his focus shift as he studied the scented candles on the small shelves next to her desk. In between them was a small figurine of an angel, with her wings spread wide and her arms extended. He looked at the top of her filing cabinet at the Mother Mary with baby Jesus that her mother and father had given her years ago.

“Why are you here, Mr. Jones?” she demanded when he squinted at the picture on her wall of her and her brother and sisters, taken the previous year at their Easter family gathering.

“It’s Micah.” He took a step toward the picture, studying it a moment longer before returning his attention to her. There was a picture of her parents facing her on her desk. Next to it was a smaller snapshot she’d framed of her two nieces. He glanced at the frames but wouldn’t be able to see the pictures from where he stood. “And as I said, the police are on their way.”

“Right now?” she asked.

“Yes. Right now.”

“Why?”

Micah gave her an appraising look. “You’re either very good or very stupid.” He cocked an eyebrow while again letting his focus drop below her face. “Are you going to tell me which, or do I make my own conclusions?”

“I’m not stupid at all,” she said defensively, hating that amused look on his face when he returned his attention to her face. “And since you won’t find out on your own, I’ll let you know now. I am very good.”

“Is that so?” For a moment the clouds lifted from his eyes. In that brief second that he dropped his guard, Maggie saw raw, unadulterated lust.

Her heart skipped a beat. Instead of that guarded wall returning, he narrowed his gaze, making it harder to see into his eyes. He didn’t frown but something shifted, bringing her pause. Micah came across as being a rock, impermeable, yet there was a weakness there and she’d just found it. Her sexual innuendo threw him off. Knowing her adversary’s weaknesses was always a plus. Now if she only had a clue what to do with her newfound knowledge.

“So I’m told,” she said, lowering her voice just a little, not enough to be obvious but just enough to make him wonder. “And now that we’ve established that, assume nothing and tell me why you’re here.”

“To learn if you’re the brains behind this operation.” He leaned against her desk, bending over so that his face was closer to hers. His arms were lined with thick, corded muscles that were impossible not to stare at for a moment. His hands were large and his fingers long. When he fisted them and pressed them against the edge of her desk, she felt the piece of furniture lean slightly from his weight.

“We probably only have a few minutes, darling. Do you run Club Paradise?”

“Larry Santinos owns Club Paradise and that’s public knowledge if you care to check. Although I’m sure you already know since he’s in the system now.” Maggie didn’t care if an edge of disdain surfaced in her voice. It would be idiotic to sound proud of her uncle’s foolishness.

“I didn’t ask who owns the club. I asked who runs it. Are you in charge of the books?” He looked pointedly at the ledger and receipts on her desk.

Maggie would welcome an audit at any time. Although bounty hunters didn’t audit books. “I do the books, yes. Are you with the IRS, too?”

“Nope. All I’m doing is bringing you in. Although I’m sure the IRS will be involved soon enough.”

“My books are squeaky-clean.” She straightened, stuck her chin out, and dared him silently to suggest otherwise. Nonetheless, when her heart began pounding against her chest, this time it wasn’t because the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on was leaning over her desk staring down at her. Her father had argued each time he and her mother fought about this that Maggie needed to get away from the club. If her uncle had fucked up, her father didn’t want any of his transgressions affecting Maggie. Up until now, Maggie hadn’t been worried. She hadn’t broken any laws.

“But you admit that you handle all the books for this place,” Micah said, his tone matter-of-fact.

His phone buzzed at the same time the buzzer on her desk went off, indicating someone else was entering the club. This time the light on the box by her phone didn’t flash. Someone had come in the front door of the club. Larry didn’t have any appointments. If he did, she would have set them up for him. She glanced at the clock on her wall then shot Micah a side glance as he straightened and pulled his phone free from his belt. He stared at the crucifix on her wall as he tapped his phone’s screen with his long fingers.

Micah put it back on his belt and gave her an appraising look. “Would you mind coming up front with me, Miss O’Malley?”

“What’s going on?” Her voice cracked as she asked. She hated sounding scared, but Micah was doing a good job of making her feel that way.

Everything about Micah stiffened. He stood straighter and no longer appeared relaxed. His expression hardened, and his dark eyes were almost black. Suddenly he terrified her. A sheen of perspiration broke out over her body. Maggie’s shirt clung to her back when she stood. Her legs trembled and she braced herself, pressing her palm to the edge of her desk.

“Let’s go, Miss O’Malley.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“It would be a lot easier if you come with me of your own accord.”

She was sure she had to look terrified. “Where?”

She tugged on her shirt, knowing she offered a fair amount of cleavage. Micah didn’t glance down this time but kept his eyes pinned on hers.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing to the door.

Who had entered the club? They opened in fifteen minutes but usually when Larry got there early, he came straight back to the kitchen, hungry and whining worse than a child. Sometimes he had someone meeting him up front before the club opened for business and he’d make the bartenders work before they were supposed to clock in, waiting on him and whoever he entertained. Ever since his arrest, though, Maggie had made sure she knew who he was meeting with and what the meeting was about. Her uncle, who was ten years older than she was and the youngest of the ten Santinos, too often behaved as if he were ten years younger. He always acted wounded, if not put out, that Maggie continually questioned his behavior. Uncle Larry swore he was innocent and had been framed. Either way, Maggie firmly believed that if he were hanging around good people, none of this would have happened.

Maggie stepped around her desk, moving to the door, but froze when Micah grabbed her ledger book, flipped it shut, and clasped it under one powerful arm.

“You can’t take that!” she complained loudly, turning on him and reaching for the book. Her fear dissipated and anger replaced it. It didn’t matter how much sex appeal Micah Jones possessed. This had gone too far. “Give that back to me right now,” she demanded, extending her hand and staring him down with all the outrage she felt at the moment.

“Actually, I can take it.” He took her extended arm and held on to her with a grip strong enough that she couldn’t free herself. “Tell your guard dog there is no problem,” Micah whispered in her ear when he pulled her up against his virile body. “Unless you want him to see his boss being arrested.”

She spun around so fast, Maggie slapped Micah’s chest to maintain her balance. If she hadn’t seen his relaxed, carefree expression when he’d first entered the building, she wouldn’t have believed it existed.

“Arrested?” she gasped, her entire body suddenly trembling. “You don’t mean me, no!” she argued. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be back to work in no time.” Micah held on to her and half dragged, half carried her to the front of the club.

“What’s going on?” Max bellowed.

Maggie didn’t have a chance to reassure him everything was fine, as Micah had told her to do. She didn’t even see him. Micah had her pinned against him, his grip pinching her skin, and her feet barely touching the ground as he headed into the club.

Club Paradise was a large establishment, with over thirty small tables for drinking and dining, a pool hall, and a dance floor complete with an incredibly expensive light system. Freddy, their DJ, was already behind his booth, leaning against it with a sober look on his face as he watched the people in the club. Three of their bartenders were behind the bar, all of them huddled together and shifting their attention quickly to Maggie when she appeared, still in Micah’s clutches.

Maggie felt her skin burn, her heart pound so hard in her chest she could barely move, and her legs threaten to turn to jelly. Larry was red-faced, his hands fisted at his sides as he shifted repeatedly from one foot to the other.

“I want my lawyer,” he kept repeating, although he was hard to see with the giant men standing around him. “You can’t do this,” he wailed.

Maggie made inventory of each man, noting one man who was so large he had to be at least six and a half feet tall. There was another man next to him. A short woman spoke softly to Larry. All of them faced her uncle. None of them looked at her when she entered the club. Were they arresting him? Why would Micah suggest she be arrested, too?

“What’s happening here?” she asked, glancing up at Micah’s stony expression.

He didn’t answer her—just looked straight ahead and held on to her until they joined the group.

“This is Maggie O’Malley, the club’s accountant.” Micah then looked at the man facing him.

An older man with threads of silver going through his short hair nodded at Micah. “You’ve got the books to the place?”

“Yes, sir.” Micah turned over Maggie’s ledger book.

The state of shock that had overtaken her when Micah practically dragged her out of her office lifted as she watched her ledger book exchange hands.

“Let go of me, now!” She almost ripped her arm out of its socket when she freed herself from Micah’s grip. “I need to see credentials from all of you, right now,” she demanded and tried grabbing her ledger book. “And I don’t think you can take these without a warrant,” she informed the very large man who was at least twice her size.

That’s when it dawned on her. This wasn’t the first time some part of the Mafia had tried pushing their way into Club Paradise, although she admitted this was the best staged. Maggie grabbed her book and felt it slip from her fingers as the man turned from her, passing the book on to the man next to him.

“Larry Santinos is coming with us. He missed his court date and we’re here to take him in.” The large man had a stony, almost cruel sound to his voice. “You, Miss O’Malley, will wait right here with us until the police arrive.”

“What?” she cried out, jumping behind Micah when the man tried taking her wrist.

Larry started howling for his lawyer again when the really large man pulled his wrists behind his back and pulled out handcuffs.

“You are not putting handcuffs on me.” Maggie made a dash for the bar. “Alex, quick, call nine-one-one!” she yelled at her bartender who stood closest to the phone. “Now!” she screamed as she slid around the bar.

Her bartender hesitated for only a second before dashing to the phone. Max busted his way through the swinging doors and froze as he stared at the group of people in the club. At the same time that he froze, a large body pounced on her backside and Maggie slammed against the hard floor.

She started screaming but an arm stronger than steel wrapped around her waist, squeezing all the air out of her lungs so that her scream left her mouth sounding more like a gagged yelp.

“Don’t make this worse on yourself,” Micah whispered into her ear, holding her against his body, which felt more like a brick wall.

“Who are you people?” she gasped, her mind spinning as everything around her suddenly seemed a bit too surreal. The only thing she was acutely aware of at the moment was the rock-hard body pressed against her backside and the warm, unmovable arm pinning her against it.

“You’ve already been told who we are.” He was still whispering in her ear.

Maggie turned her head and stared into his eyes. Micah didn’t blink or let on to any emotion he might be experiencing at the moment. His tone was flat, not reassuring, not hostile, just stating basic facts.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“For being way too good of an accountant, sweetheart. I suggest you use some of that extra money you made to get yourself a really good lawyer.”

Chapter Two

Micah declined heading out for a beer when he and Ben clocked out several days later.

“You just don’t strike me as the clean-cut type,” Haley teased, sitting on Greg’s lap on one of the couches in the KFA office.

The office, which had once been a screened-in porch, was an extension of the King home. He’d only been inside the rest of the large beachside house once when he’d been interviewed for the job.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Micah said, nodding to her, then Greg. Both of them grinned and appeared very relaxed. It amazed the crap out of Micah that couples like Greg and Haley existed. They’d been married forever and still looked as if they were head over heels crazy for each other. “I’m heading home and fixing food,” he added, although he doubted they cared.

“What happened with Santinos? Was that chick they busted his brains? God, she was hot!” Ben said, already at the door and holding the doorknob. He dragged his hand across his forehead and blew out a loud breath, then grinned at all of them.

Micah couldn’t leave until Ben did since he blocked the door. Although Maggie’s confused expression and her shocked reaction to being hauled out of her office had confused Micah for a bit, criminals came in all sizes and shapes. Maggie sure didn’t look, or act, guilty. She had been terrified, shaking worse than a leaf in a storm. When she ran to her bartenders and ordered them to call 911, he’d almost believed her innocence.