Slow Heat (19 page)

Micah understood today that his grandpa probably was trying to steer Micah clear of girls who quickly took an interest in him during his teenage years. He might have been somewhat of a late bloomer but he did his best to make up for lost time once the urge to chase girls kicked in. That’s when he took his grandpa’s words of wisdom to mean no girls around when he was hunting.

There was a bloodstain on the sleeve of his T-shirt he should probably take care of. Micah looked down at it, tugging on the shirt in order to see how much blood had actually soaked through the fabric. The dark odd-shaped blotch reminded him of an inkblot a psychiatrist might have a patient analyze. It was an odd thought, and he wasn’t sure why it had just popped into his mind. His shirt scraped over the fresh wound where Gutierrez’s bullet had grazed the top of his arm. At the same time his silver pendant of Saint Michael pressed into his flesh just under his collarbone.

Micah didn’t flinch as the pain spiked and fresh blood soaked another part of his shirt. Instead he watched waves ripple and turn to foam as he remembered how Maggie had watched his pendant when it bounced against his chest when he fucked her. He’d been rough, demanding—unrelenting, even—and she’d taken everything he had given her. Not once had a woman drained him the way Maggie had, and left him not only completely sated but with a new knowledge.

He’d entered his bedroom that night needing to release the energy that had sizzled across his flesh after dealing with the detectives. When he’d seen Maggie on his bed, not looking scared but instead appearing as pumped up as he had been, something overpowered Micah. The urge to brand Maggie, somehow make her part of who he was, had been too strong to control.

That was bullshit. He could have controlled it. He’d wanted to make Maggie his woman. It had crossed his mind to hold back as he had with so many women in the past. At first he’d told himself it was something about Maggie. To an extent, it was. Maggie looked at him differently than women in his past had. Whether he picked up a lady in a fancy club and drove to a five-star hotel in a fast car, or found a lady in a dive and took her around back, they’d never stared into his eyes the way Maggie did. He told himself it was hiding out, not knowing where his father or uncle were, being pissed over the investigation into the murder of a dirty CIA agent that made him see things that weren’t really there. Micah knew better than to hide the truth behind delusional thinking. The past three months as a bounty hunter instead of as an assassin did challenge his perspective. He didn’t know if they had changed his outlook on life. But he did know when he stared into Maggie’s pretty blue eyes, he swore she stared back at him as if she understood him.

That was his revelation. It had been the first time they’d had sex yet it hadn’t felt like it. When he’d come, he’d left part of himself inside her and now wasn’t complete without her by his side. Micah had branded Maggie, but she’d done the same thing to him.

Stalking away from the beach, Micah grabbed a clean T-shirt out of the side pouch on his bike just as the black Avalanche pulled into the circular drive in front of the house. King parked the truck behind the other two, then he and Haley got out.

“Glad you’re here,” King said when he spotted Micah. “We need to talk.”

King sounded stern but Micah didn’t give it much thought as he followed the two of them into the office. “Let me change shirts,” Micah said to King’s back.

The giant man turned around once they were inside. Haley dropped paperwork on Patty’s desk. She blocked the girl’s view of Micah when she turned around, and her eyes grew wide.

“Oh God, Micah!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were hurt that bad. Damn, maybe we should take you to the hospital.”

Hospitals were definitely on the off-limits list. Micah wouldn’t allow himself to get into their database. Not a good idea. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Pulling off the shirt just made it bleed again.”

He held up the crumpled T-shirt. “I just need to change.”

Micah hadn’t seen his mother since he was ten. He hadn’t spent a lot of time around other kids and their families while growing up. That didn’t mean he didn’t understand the look that crossed Haley’s face as she walked up to him, her attention fully on the bloodstain on his shirt.

“Come into the kitchen with me.” Haley wasn’t a tall woman. She didn’t appear exceptionally strong. She spoke calmly and gestured for him to follow as she left the office.

Micah knew he was stuck. Haley went into full-fledged mothering mode; even King stepped to the side and allowed his wife to do her thing. And apparently at the moment, her thing was Micah.

“Sit,” she ordered as they entered the kitchen. Haley pulled one of the chairs out from under the kitchen table and dragged it to the middle of the room.

Micah didn’t look at King. He didn’t have to. Haley was in charge at the moment, and Micah had no choice but to do as she said. He sat in the chair.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” he assured her but one look at her face and he turned so she could see his arm.

“That’s a good grazing,” King muttered from behind Micah. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch that asshole’s aim was off.”

“I know.” Micah shifted so King was in his peripheral. “It never ceases to amaze me how immune some communities can get to gunfire. That was one huge apartment complex and not a soul came outside when shots started.”

“They learn at a young age to stay inside when someone starts shooting. That’s how they stay alive,” King said.

He pushed away from the counter when Haley left the room with Micah’s bloodstained shirt. Micah unfolded his clean T-shirt.

“I wouldn’t bother putting that on,” King warned, pointing to the shirt. “You aren’t getting out of this house until Haley has bandaged you and is satisfied you don’t need to go to the hospital.”

Micah sighed. “I really am fine.” But he dropped his clean shirt in his lap.

“Beer?” King asked.

Haley reappeared in the kitchen, her hands full of cotton balls, gauze, medical tape, and several different types of ointments.

“Looks like you might need it,” he added, chuckling.

“Sure,” Micah said slowly, watching the medical supplies Haley was now arranging on the kitchen table.

Haley didn’t waste any time tending to Micah’s arm. He was forced to take his beer with his left hand. Her cool hands gripped his upper arm as she cleaned the area where the bullet had sliced across his skin. Micah did his best to relax in the chair. It was kind of nice having someone else clean the wound, apply antibiotics to keep infection away, then bandage him up.

“I think you’ll live,” Haley said and smiled at the bandaged arm. “You may now get dressed.”

“And then sit back down,” King said.

Micah was standing, his hands already through the sleeves of his clean T-shirt when he met King’s gaze. It hadn’t occurred to him that the man had been standing in the kitchen for any reason other than to be with his wife while she cleaned the wound of another man. King had said he’d wanted to talk, and the scowl on his face made it look serious. Micah pulled the shirt over his head, tugged it down to his waist, then reached for his beer.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Haley gathered up her doctoring stuff but didn’t look at him. Her pleasant mothering persona had been swapped out for the tough and ready bounty hunter.

“And thank you for cleaning my arm,” Micah added, not that he was looking for brownie points from either one of them, but he appreciated her doing it.

“You’re very welcome.” Her smile appeared sincere. “I’m just glad both of you are okay.”

“She can put you back together but I’m about ready to tear you a new one,” King snapped.

Haley turned immediately to give her husband her full attention. Instead of putting her medical supplies away, she dumped them on the counter and moved next to him. “This is something I don’t know about?” she asked.

“Yup. That phone call on our way home.”

“Oh yeah,” Haley said, nodding. “One of your old cop friends. What did he say?”

“Micah, care to answer that for my wife?” King grumbled. He appeared to grow larger, and taller, as he continued leaning against the counter, staring at Micah.

Micah had never offered information without it being specifically requested for throughout his life. He stared at King unwilling to say anything without his boss being more specific. Osborne was probably ten years or so older than Micah and possibly had been on the force when King had still been a cop. Holloway, Osborne’s partner, was older. He might have called King. There was no way for Micah to know until King told him more.

King sighed. “I like you, Jones. But God damn it! Don’t insult my intelligence. You just heard my wife say I got a phone call from one of my old cop friends. Tell both of us right now what you did, and why.”

“Are you talking about last night?” he asked. He had a right to clarity.

“I’m talking about you beating the crap out of two LAPD detectives,” King snarled, looking fierce as hell. The man was a weapon in himself. Despite being almost twice Micah’s age, he would be a formidable contender.

Micah kept his temper at bay, although he had taken a few calming breaths. He might be inclined to outbursts just as any Mulligan was. But yelling at his boss that the men who had illegally entered his house and trashed it couldn’t possibly be LAPD’s finest wouldn’t be to his benefit.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, extending his arms out in a feeble effort to look as if he surrendered.

“Do you realize the only reason you weren’t hauled off to jail on some rather serious charges was because they already knew you worked for me?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what charges. There were no charges. Both detectives knew it. He’d called them on illegal actions on their part to learn more about Micah and Maggie. Not only had they failed, if they’d called King and suggested he try to do their dirty work, that wasn’t going to happen, either.

“And it’s a great job. I really love working here.” Micah remained relaxed, knowing he’d just completely diverted the topic of conversation. He waited to see where King would go with it.

The look on his face didn’t indicate he was willing to start talking about their jobs as bounty hunters. “Why did you attack Detective Osborne?” King asked, the low cool tone indicating he was fighting to maintain composure.

Micah didn’t share anything about his life with anyone. There were times, though, when good judgment demanded he offer an explanation for his behavior.

“Did the detective say I attacked him?”

King pushed himself off the counter and took a single step to clear the distance between them. Micah took a step backward, making a show of giving King space.

“Here’s what is going to happen,” King stated, and took another step so he was in Micah’s face.

Haley grabbed her husband’s arm but didn’t say anything. She shot Micah a pensive look but he didn’t let his attention stray from King. The man was pissed as hell and at the moment putting Micah in a very dangerous position.

“You’re going to tell me every little detail about what happened from the moment you got home last night to the exact second when Detective Osborne, who is an incredible young man and the son of one of my lifelong best friends, walked out of your front door with a broken nose and cheekbone.”

“Oh my God!” Haley gasped, letting go of her husband and covering her mouth with both of her hands. “Jimmy?” she asked. She looked at Micah wide-eyed. “How could you have hurt Jimmy so bad and not be in jail?”

That was the question he wanted to hear. “Two detectives entered my home last night without a warrant, planted listening devices in every room, then destroyed the place.” It had to be his dumb luck that one of those detectives was the son of King’s friend. It was even worse that Osborne pulled some incredibly stupid moves and Micah had simply taken advantage. He had to word everything carefully, especially with his six-and-a-half-foot, incredibly well-built pissed-off boss glowering down at him. “When I got home, I immediately noticed my security system had been tampered with. No one was there but Osborne left his card so I called and told him to come back. Osborne returned, entered the house, and showed no remorse or indication that his actions were wrong, and illegal.”

King looked like he might start breathing fire out of his nose at any moment.

Micah quickly added, “I didn’t own much but now I own even less. What’s worse is that he never did tell me what he was looking for.”

“And that’s what happened?”

Micah didn’t show surprise but immediately was suspicious. “Were you told a different story?”

King actually roared like a lion. He turned from Micah and slapped the table hard enough that Micah’s beer toppled and fell. Haley was quick on her feet, grabbing the bottle as foam spilled off the table to the floor.

“Greg,” she said, concern evident in her gentle tone. She touched his arm, and he looked at her. “Let me talk to him.”

King looked so furious Micah wasn’t sure if he heard his wife, or even saw her before he turned and faced Micah. “Yes, I was told what happened. The story is so different from yours, it’s preposterous. Things aren’t adding up, Jones. Not just with last night, but all over the goddamn place. I’d better get some good, solid answers really soon, and I mean the fucking truth! Believe me, Jones, you haven’t seen me truly pissed off yet.”

“And let’s keep it that way.” Haley wasn’t condescending. There was no fear in her tone. She didn’t try pushing her husband away from Micah. Haley just looked up at him, her face lined with concern and worry.

Micah wasn’t sure what King would do at that moment. Something was wrong, though. A small voice in the back of his head was getting damn close to screaming red alert. Regardless of any other situation going on here, if King started believing there was more to Micah than what he appeared to be, Micah would need to relocate immediately.

“Take your beer outside. Walk some of your anger off. I’ll let you know what he says and we’ll take it from there.”

Greg looked at his wife, nodded once, and headed out the back door without the beer. Once he’d closed the door behind him, Haley took a sponge from behind the sink and wiped off the table and floor.