Slow Heat (23 page)

Maggie raced back the way she came, keeping to the edge of the parking lot. The car drove past her and slid to a stop. Its tires spun and the smell of rubber filled the parking lot as it turned around and started at her again.

“Deidre!” she screamed, breaking into a full sprint.

“Maggie!” Deidre yelled over the sound of squealing tires.

The vehicle squealed to a stop between her and her car. Maggie stared into the cold menacing eyes of the driver and passenger. She’d never seen either one of them before.

When two shots were fired, Maggie’s heart leapt in her throat. She looked around frantically, searching for Micah. But then Deidre was running straight for her.

“Come on! Let’s go!” Deidre yelled, grabbing Maggie’s hand and damn near yanking it out of her socket as she broke into a run.

Maggie worried she’d stumble but fright put speed in her feet. She ran as fast as she could. “Over there!” she pointed.

“The Dumpster?”

“They’re trying to kill us!” Maggie yelled and suddenly she was the one pulling. She and her sister were about the same size and weight. Maggie tugged Deidre near the Dumpster. The stench made her stomach roil.

“I will not hide behind a huge trash can,” Deidre yelled, pulled free of Maggie, and turned to face the car.

Maggie stared in shock at her sister who stood with her legs apart, both hands on her gun and her hair blowing wildly around her.

“Bring it on, motherfucker!” she yelled at the driver.

The car slid into reverse and turned away from them. It drove away as fast as it could with two flat tires. Before it was across the parking lot Deidre started firing again.

“Micah,” Maggie whispered and stared past Deidre at the large man on the bike rumbling toward them.

He didn’t stop until he was next to Deidre. Maggie rushed at him but Deidre spun and aimed her gun at him.

“Deidre, no,” Maggie cried out and grabbed her arm to lower the gun. “It’s Micah.”

It took Maggie a moment to realize how heavily her sister was breathing, and how tight her fingers were wrapped around the small handgun. Micah left his bike running and climbed off. His stony serious features probably wouldn’t convince anyone that he was much safer than the old car that had tried attacking her.

“What’s wrong?” Micah asked. Even his voice was low and dangerous sounding.

Maggie pointed, but realized she was shaking. The tremble in her hand spread quickly until she could barely stand on her own two feet.

“That car,” she stammered.

Deidre bent over and gripped her knees, still holding her gun in one of her hands. Maggie rested a hand on her back. She stared at Deidre only a moment then looked at Micah. She’d never seen his eyes so dark.

His mouth barely moved when he spoke. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were leaving the motel. Deidre was already at my car. I started toward it and this old car without a muffler pulled into the parking lot and tried to run me over. When I got out of the way, it backed up and tried running me over again.”

“It went that way?” Micah shifted and pointed.

Maggie nodded. “With its back tires blown out.”

Micah didn’t smile or say good shot or even acknowledge her last comment. He turned, climbed on his bike, and was gone.

“What the fuck?” Deidre mumbled. “What the fuck?” she said a bit louder. Then, standing, she arched her back, stared at the sky, and yelled. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie said, still watching in the direction Micah had gone.

“You have no idea who those people were?” Deidre demanded. Her face looked wild, like this whole experience had sent her to a crazy, delusional place and she hadn’t yet returned.

“How the hell am I supposed to know who they were?” Suddenly she was pissed. “I’m a fucking accountant. People just don’t show up and try to run me down in old, shitty cars,” she yelled, gesturing wildly in the direction the car, and Micah, had disappeared.

Deidre shot her a side glance. “Do they try to run you down in nice cars?”

O’Malleys were known for their quick tempers. Maggie’s had spiked, but one look at her sister’s quirky expression and it dissipated.

“Did you cut off someone’s tab at the club?” Maggie asked, and shook her head, her expression pinched when she glared in the direction the car had gone. “Where did you get that gun?”

“This gun?” Deidre lifted her hand with the gun in it. “This gun here? You know, it seems to me the question should be, why the hell don’t you have a gun?”

“Why would I have a gun?”

Even Deidre’s laugh bordered on hysteria. “Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled, and gestured with the gun still in her hand. “Maybe possibly because
someone is trying to kill you!
” she screamed. “Holy crap, Mags, are you really this pathetic?”

“What?” Maggie pointed at the gun. “Put that thing away.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Deidre snapped, then marched away from Maggie. She yanked open Maggie’s passenger door and bent over for her purse. “God forbid I make you uncomfortable by holding a gun,” she bit out, her tone suddenly tight with anger.

Maggie was right behind her when Deidre spun around. “Is that better? Does that put your world back into perfect order?”

Maggie wasn’t sure if she should turn around and acknowledge Micah or not when his bike rumbled up behind her. Deidre was out of line and being a bitch, but she’d just had the shit scared out of her. Maggie was scared, too. People didn’t try to run her down in a parking lot. Normal people weren’t continually worried someone was trying to kill them.

“That’s not fair,” Maggie said quietly, acutely aware of Micah getting off his bike and moving behind her. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen to me.”

“Oh for crap’s sake. Get over yourself. And here’s a news flash from your older sister. Someone is trying to kill you so pull your head out of your ass, quit thinking the world is some perfect place and that everything can be solved by using some geometric formula or something.”

“Deidre,” Maggie said, her voice cracking.

“No!” Her sister held her finger up in the air as her eyes flashed with outrage. “You’re going to get killed.”

“What? Stop it.”

“I will not stop it,” Deidre roared, fisting her hands at her side. “Today was your wake-up call, darling. But it should have happened the day you were hauled in for questioning. This won’t ever happen again.”

“I know—”

“You don’t know shit,” her sister exploded and lunged for Maggie.

Instinctively Maggie backed up, raising her hands to protect herself. Deidre reached for her and suddenly Micah was there, blocking her sister’s path. Maggie blinked and there were bulging muscles in her direct line of vision. Good God! He was protecting her from her own sister.

“It’s okay, Micah,” she began, putting her hand on his arm as she stepped around him.

“I’ll get to you next!” Deidre was furious. Her voice was dangerously cool.

Maggie stepped around Micah just in time to see Deidre stab him in the chest with her finger. It was apparent how outraged she was when she didn’t make some lewd comment about his chest being a brick wall. Instead she glared up at him.

“Back off,” she said in a low dangerous tone.

Maggie didn’t dare look into his face. She wasn’t sure what she would see. Micah gave Deidre only a quick once-over before setting his dark, brooding stare on Maggie.

“Are you okay?” he asked in his low, smooth baritone.

“She’s just peachy,” Deidre told him. “Now stay there and don’t move.” She didn’t bother to see if he would listen to her or not when she once again gave Maggie the coldest stare she’d ever seen on her sister. “The reason this is never going to happen again is because you’re going to get your head out of your books and learn how to protect yourself. I want you to think long and hard about what might have happened in this parking lot if I hadn’t been here.”

Maggie’s heart tightened so fiercely in her chest that she couldn’t breathe. Her sister was right. If Deidre hadn’t been here, she would have seriously been hurt, or worse. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but Deidre had turned her attention on Micah.

“My sister hired you to protect her,” she snarled. “And let me tell you, mister, you fucked up big-time. I saved her ass today but you’re going to step up to the plate and do your job right, or I promise you right now, you won’t be fucking her anymore.”

“Deidre!” Maggie yelled, having about enough of this bossy-older-sister crap. “You’ve made your point clear enough.”

“That’s your problem.” Deidre pointed at Maggie but then turned that same finger on Micah. “That’s her problem. You see, there is something about my sister you need to know.”

“What’s that?”

Maggie looked at Micah. Deidre even paused for a moment as if Micah speaking somehow yanked her out of this insane frenzy that had suddenly hit her. Micah’s expression was serious, but she swore when he looked down at her, his gaze softened.

“She’s an idiot,” Deidre yelled.

“I am not an idiot. I’ll compare my GPA to yours any day, big sis.”

“That’s my point exactly.” Deidre waved her hand in Maggie’s direction. “My little sister is as smart as they come in a classroom. Straight A’s all the way. I don’t think she ever brought home a B. Even in college. Everyone loved bragging about how smart little Mags was. She aced her way through school and made Mom and Dad look so smart. It was disgusting. But nonetheless, the damage was done.” Deidre exhaled, shook her head, and continued. “The damage is done,” she said in a softer, almost deflated tone. “She wasn’t out of school a week when our mother was damn near prancing around in her kitchen bragging to the entire family about how her Mags was now a college graduate and had a job doing the books for a nightclub.” Again Deidre shook her head. “So you see, she is as book-smart as they come. But she is more street-stupid than I realized. The way it’s going to be is this. From this moment forward, you’re in basic training.” Deidre crossed her arms and gave Micah an appraising once-over. “You’re going to give my little sister that street education. Think you can handle that?”

“Yup,” Micah said, not hesitating.

“Good.” Deidre turned and for a moment looked dizzy.

Maggie was more than a little put out but reached for her sister anyway.

“I’m fine,” Deidre said, waving her off.

“Yeah, right,” Maggie whispered.

“Go with him to see Dad,” her sister told her, and started running her fingers through her hair. “Give me a moment to put myself back together.”

Maggie pulled the keys to her car out and handed them over. “You put as much as a dent on my car.”

“I won’t hurt your car.”

“You do and you’ll learn real fast all the street smarts this math geek actually has.”

Chapter Nine

“Set me up, Don,” Maggie said, and slapped her hand down on the smooth wooden bar.

The bartender, a man in his mid-fifties with a slight pudgy build, looked at her, then glanced past her at Micah.

“I mean it, Don. Make it whiskey.”

“Okay,” Don said and finished drying the glass he had in his hand. He wiped his hands on the bar towel then poured Maggie a shot of whiskey.

She downed it and put the shot glass on the counter. “Again.”

“Maggie,” Don complained.

“I said again.”

This time the bartender looked over at a table where a group of people sat. Micah immediately noticed Maggie’s brother, who’d brought her to the lawyer downtown. Damn good thing she never made that appointment.

“Don,” Maggie said.

Don sighed and poured another shot. Maggie tilted her head back and downed the second shot.

“Again,” she demanded.

“I don’t—”

“Again,” Maggie insisted.

Don poured the shot. Maggie downed it.

Micah leaned into the bar next to her. “What are you doing?” he whispered in her ear.

Maggie placed both elbows on the counter and turned her head so she was looking at him over her bare shoulder. “My sister believes I’m an idiot and someone tried to kill me. What would you suggest I do?”

“I can think of one or two things.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed and she hummed as she lowered her gaze, then took her time raising it to look at his face. “Want to fuck me?” she whispered.

“Why are we at this bar?”

“Oh yeah.” Maggie straightened and held a finger in the air. “Don, where is my shot?” she demanded. This time she reached in her pocket and pulled out a twenty. Slapping it next to her empty shot glass, she yelled, “Take care of me, bartender, and one for my friend here, too.”

Don seemed to take her request more seriously after looking at Micah. He put two shot glasses down on the counter and filled them both three-quarters of the way with whiskey. Maggie grabbed hers and downed it with one swallow.

“Drink up, dear,” she encouraged, nudging Micah. “They have only the best at my father’s pub.”

Micah saw the label on the bottle the bartender was pouring from, definitely not the best whiskey there was. On the other hand, it wasn’t the worst whiskey a bar could serve, either. A quick glance around showed proof this was a workingman’s bar, a neighborhood pub. It wouldn’t surprise him if most of the people who came into this bar had been coming here a very long time. There was no pool table, no darts, no jukebox. Something from before Micah’s time played through speakers behind the bar. This was a place where folks came to drink off their worries, which appeared to be what Maggie was doing right now.

“One more round,” Maggie announced, sticking her finger in the air. “Hell, make it one for the family.”

She turned her back on Micah and the three people at the table in the corner of the bar looked at her. Her brother was already standing, but the old man with him stopped him.

“Bring your whiskey and your man over here,” the old man said. “If you’re going to have him, you’re going to introduce him properly.”

“And what exactly is properly, Daddy?” Maggie asked. She left the bar but before reaching their table turned again and pointed to Don behind the bar. “Five shots, Don. Let’s see, at three dollars a shot, that is fifteen dollars.” She pulled a couple of bills out of her purse. Then, waving the bills in the air, she returned to the bar and slapped them down. “I’m good at math. That’s what I’m good at. If I suck at everything else in life, like keeping myself alive, at least I am fucking good with numbers! Because I so rock at doing math, I will definitely get your tip on the next round, Don. Don’t worry. You know an O’Malley is good for it.”