Slow Heat (17 page)

“Get out of my house.”

“You’ve got this a bit backward, son,” Osborne said, holding his arms out, his hands in the air in a show of surrender. “Now put down the gun.”

“I’m a bit too old to be your son,” Micah drawled. He would have guessed Osborne was in his thirties. “And it’s you who have things backward. When you have a crime, there’s a suspect, which you have. You have a crime scene, allegedly. My house isn’t it, though. You didn’t have probable cause, or any other cause for that matter, to enter my home without a warrant; to destroy it trying desperately to find a reason to get a warrant; or,” he added, raising his voice, “to bug my fucking house.”

“Calm down,
son
,” Osborne said. He was noticeably cool, despite his bruised and swelling face. “You don’t want the kind of trouble this will bring down on you.”

“You destroyed my home. If you’d had probable cause or anything at all to justify what you did, you would have knocked on my door with a warrant. I have a hard time remaining calm when my house is bugged and I’m an innocent, law-abiding man.” Micah pointed at his open front door. “I said get out of my house. Both of you.”

“Huh-uh.” The other detective’s badge was clipped to his belt. Micah caught the last name: Holloway. “This is how it goes,” he snarled. He was definitely not as cool and collected as Osborne. Holloway’s face was red with fury, which accentuated gray streaks in his short brown hair. He was obviously suffering from anger management issues. “Turn around and put your hands against the wall, or I’ll make you turn around.”

Micah glanced past the gun Holloway pointed at Micah’s chest and turned to face Osborne. “You’re not getting the message I’m trying to relay here.”

If he pushed these men too far, it wouldn’t matter that he was trying to show them he was a bounty hunter working on the same case they were. He wouldn’t be bullied and sure wouldn’t go for the crap they’d pulled off in his home tonight. He couldn’t shoot them and wouldn’t throw more punches.

Micah had more training and experience than either of these men would manage during the duration of his career. He moved before Holloway could react, grabbed his gun, and tossed it to the floor with Osborne’s.

“Jones, more backup is on its way,” Osborne said, but shifted his weight so he was outside Micah’s arm length by a few inches. “Don’t make this harder on you than it already is.”

“Hard on me? You have nothing on me and no reason to have destroyed my home. Shall we all have a seat and wait for them to arrive?” Micah suggested. “Or wait, I know, we can all explain to your captain why you destroyed and wired my home, then were cocky enough to leave a calling card.”

“All right, we’ll leave.” Osborne nodded at his and Holloway’s guns on the floor. “Are you going to give us back our guns? They’re registered to LAPD. They’re not worth anything to you.”

“Take them.” He waved indifferently at the two guns. Then, turning his back on the two detectives, Micah dragged his fingers through his hair.

His fucking temper had blown out of control, and all this to ensure Maggie’s innocence? If he’d only been mildly on their radar before, Micah had definitely just put himself at the top of the list. So much for a low profile. Micah rubbed his face with his hands as he turned around to face the detectives.

“I’m not going to apologize for my actions,” he began. “You entered my house without a warrant.” He looked away from both of them and stared down his hallway, fighting to keep his cool and not throw both of them out of his house. “We’re all on the same side. We’re all interested in Maggie not going to jail.”

Osborne slipped his gun into its holster at his waist. The man would have one hell of a bruise the next day. Already the side of his face was turning shades of blue and green and swelling up.

“The only thing we’re interested in is putting the criminals responsible for the amount of money that has illegally gone in and out of Club Paradise for way too many years behind bars.” Holloway glared at Micah. “I should haul you downtown, Jones.”

“On what charges? What crime is it that I’ve committed?” Micah leveled his gaze on both of them. He might be new to living in California, but he was pretty sure he had all the state laws down. If either of them tried charging him with battery, he’d cry self-defense. They were in his home.

“I can keep you downtown for questioning for quite a long time,” Osborne snarled.

“When you come up with what it is exactly that you want to ask me, I’ll be here.” Micah suddenly felt drained. He wanted to check on Maggie. It was damn quiet in his house right now.

He raised his arm and both detectives tensed. Micah pointed to the front door. “See yourselves out, gentlemen,” he encouraged. “And next time, don’t trash or wire my home. Knocking on the door and asking your questions will save all of us a lot of time.”

*   *   *

Maggie’s brother had called while Micah was beating the crap out of two police officers in his living room. She was still shaking from the horrific sounds she had heard during that fight. Her imagination had conjured up all types of scenes to match the grunts and nasty bashing sounds she’d heard. But then it got quiet. Almost too damn quiet. She thought she heard male voices, low baritones grunting at each other. She would have thought the walls in this small, old house would have been thinner. Maggie hadn’t been able to pick up a thing said in the living room. No way was she opening that bedroom door.

When her phone rang a second time, although her volume was turned down, she still damn near jumped out of her skin. If she didn’t say so herself, Maggie did one hell of a good job convincing Aiden everything was fine. Like she’d tell him Micah was currently beating the crap out of two police officers while she hid out in a shabby bedroom in a seedy part of town. That would have gone over well. Aiden would have dragged her, kicking and screaming, straight to their priest and probably demanded she be locked away somewhere, with lots of holy water, for her own good.

The visuals on that one had almost made her laugh. Apparently overhearing knuckles crunch against bone had pushed her to the edge of hysteria.

After hanging up with Aiden, she was still clutching her phone in her hand and staring dry-eyed at the door. Occasionally she’d shift her attention to the wall directly in front of her, as if she had X-ray vision and could see straight into the living room. The silence that followed offered a few calming moments. She was finally able to quit white-knuckling her phone.

But then she began worrying. What if the police hauled Micah in? They would check his house and find her back here in Micah’s bedroom. They would take her in again. Damn, those fucking detectives would have way too much fun dragging her back in and gloating over how she had obviously lied to them. They would accuse Micah and her of having plotted out some scheme since, after all, he’d hauled her out to them when they captured her uncle. Lord, she would have Micah in so much trouble. He would hate her. And it was already quite clear that he had a temper to match an Irishman.

Maggie directed her attention to the window, the only one in his room. It faced the street. There were no curtains, just dust-covered blinds that were closed. It crossed her mind to leap off the bed, shove those blinds aside, and get the window to open so she could escape. They couldn’t haul her in if they couldn’t find her.

But then what would she be? A fugitive at large? The only place she’d run was to one of her family members. Maggie would be the easiest person for anyone to track. All of this proved rather simply that trying to leave here would be stupid. For a brief moment, however, imagining Micah hunting her down did something to her equilibrium. A fluttering started in her tummy but quickly moved down between her legs until the pulsing there matched the hard, steady thump of her heartbeat. She was most definitely becoming hysterical. Hell, Micah had hurled her over his shoulder and brought her back in here. That might be hot to fantasize about but in real life, no sane woman tolerated behavior like that. Micah might be a kick-ass bounty hunter. He had no problem standing up to cops when he was innocent. But he displayed every sign in the book of very, very bad boyfriend material.

She damn near shrieked when Micah barged into the bedroom. He shoved the door open until it slammed against the wall behind it. Maggie wasn’t able to scramble off Micah’s bed fast enough. He left the door open and stood at the center of the end of the bed, just as Maggie made it to her knees.

There was no way to describe the look on Micah’s face. His skin wasn’t pale enough for him to look flushed. He had a slightly weathered look to him, but definitely not worn-out. Far from worn-out. Maggie would bet good money that the tribes of her ancestors from Ireland had quite probably used the same stance Micah held right now. She imagined many victorious warriors often returned to their women with that same fiery, almost-savage look in their eyes.

Before she could crawl to the end of the bed, stand, and talk to him, Micah put one knee on the bed and grabbed her arms. “They won’t come back,” he said, his voice raspy as if he’d been the one yelling out there.

Maggie was pretty sure that hadn’t been the case.

“Okay,” she said, nodding, because she sensed he needed assurance that he’d done the right thing. Maggie had never seen emotions burning so raw in a person before.

Micah didn’t say anything else but crawled onto the bed. His grip tightened on her arms as he came down on top of her.

There wasn’t time to think, to decide if this was the right move or not. Micah’s mouth was on hers, hungry and demanding. His body pressed hers down into the mattress. She didn’t realize her legs were spread with his body between them until his arm was on her outer thigh, shoving her dress up to her waist.

She couldn’t think. His mouth was doing crazy wicked things to hers. Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck, loving the feel of so much rock-hard muscle pressed against her everywhere. She tangled her fingers into his hair and when she tugged, he growled fiercely into her mouth. At the same time, he lifted himself off her far enough to shove her dress and her bra up her body until her breasts were exposed. The second her nipples were free his hand cupped one breast.

His fingers were long and his fingertips rough. Micah was one of those few specialized men who worked not only with his mind, but also with his hands. He was as intelligent as he was skillful. Just as she began imagining him plotting out how he would hunt a man who’d skipped out on his bond, Micah pulled her back into the moment. Those skilled fingers tweaked her nipple. A charge surged from her breast straight to her pussy with so much energy she howled and bucked off the bed.

Micah’s body was over hers, preventing her from going anywhere he didn’t want her. But the grumbling in his throat had the sound of pure male satisfaction. Their tongues swirled around each other, doing the dance of lovers, but their bodies moved more aggressively, both anxious to explore and claim. She pulled his hair and didn’t realize Micah’s hand no longer cupped her breast until both his hands circled her wrists.

“I like my hair in my scalp,” he whispered against her lips.

Micah lifted himself off her body, leaving her feeling suddenly incredibly exposed. At the same time he raised her arms until he’d pressed her hands into the pillows on either side of her head. Micah looked at her and froze. He kept her wrists pinned to the bed as he came up to his knees and knelt with the roughness of his jeans rubbing her inner thighs.

For a moment he simply stared down at her without moving. Instead of drooling over her exposed breasts or at how hard her nipples were, Micah gazed deeply into Maggie’s eyes.

“Is this a good idea?”

His question shocked the hell out of her. “I know I want you,” she answered easily. Maggie then saw visible ghosts swirling in Micah’s eyes. They were haunting him, torturing him, and bringing forth uncertainties that Micah probably tried to never let anyone see. “Beyond what we feel right now, Micah, neither of us can predict the future.”

“What do we feel? Other than my dick being harder than a rock and a damn near uncontrollable urge to fuck you, what else am I feeling?”

“Do you feel something else?” she whispered and immediately held her breath, unable to retract the question and terrified of what his answer might be. Hadn’t Micah just displayed behavior that made him a bad candidate for a boyfriend? Why would she push it?

“I don’t know that it’s ever mattered so much that I not hurt someone.”

“I doubt you’ll hurt me,” she said in a soft drawl and moved her hips between his legs.

Maggie swore that when Micah growled, it rose from deep in his chest and transformed the man holding her down on his bed into something so much stronger, more powerful, and definitely a hell of a lot more dangerous than any man should be. At the same time, as he lowered his face to hers and nipped at her lip, something glowed in his eyes that could only be described as raw vulnerability. Maggie only had a moment before his face blurred before hers, but she suddenly understood. Her stomach fluttered with uncertainty and excitement when it dawned on her that Micah knew rough and tough but possibly not exposed and vulnerable.

She raised her head off the bed just far enough to scrape his lower lip with her teeth. “I might surprise you. I’m tougher than I look.” Maggie tried seeing his expression when their faces were so close.

“No promises.”

Maggie grinned. “My grandma used to say a man, or woman, unwilling to make a promise was a loser before he was out of the gate.”

“Wise woman, this grandma of yours?”

Maggie’s smile broadened. “The wisest.”

“Okay then. I promise…” Micah faltered for a moment.

Maggie held her breath, anxious to hear what he would say. Her lungs began hurting when she couldn’t exhale but simply watched Micah scoot away from her. For a moment her vision was blurred by potential tears. Maggie blinked her eyes dry and was ready to leap off the bed, attack Micah, and make herself clear in no uncertain terms that she was content to fuck now, and talk later. Either way, he was not walking away and leaving her with her body burning up from the inside out. He was going to fuck her.