Slow Heat (35 page)

King lifted his gaze and watched Micah for a moment. “A murderer,” he hissed. “Mulligan is a despicable killer who needs to be put away for life.”

Micah barely managed to remain in his chair, let alone sit there and not shift his weight. King’s words sliced through him like a sharp knife. Worse yet, he and Haley knew they had him. Micah wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. He could handle being flat-out accused of being Mulligan. But King had taken it a step farther. He’d finished accusing Micah and now was showing his outrage and disgust over who and what Micah was.

King looked away first and returned the pages to the file, sliding them neatly inside. He started talking before he’d finished his task. “Over the past few months there has been no sign of him. I guess he could have left the country after killing that CIA agent, but I don’t think so. No one has ever reported having any contact with any of the Mulligans. I believe they’re a tight family, and this young Mulligan has been taught to kill since he could first walk. He probably thinks the world of his family and believes he’s not evil. Either way, I doubt he’s delusional. My guess is deep down in his heart he knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he’s breaking the law. Nothing has ever been pinned on him so, for now, he’s probably living the life of a normal, average American. Or at least he’s trying to live that way.” King put the file down and paced the length of the kitchen. He seemed into his depiction of how the Mulligan assassin would hide out. His face lit up as he continued with his speculating. “I bet he took off across the country, stopping in different towns until he found the one that fit. He would choose a city where he’s never been hired to kill. And it would be a large city, because it’s easier to get lost among the masses. I bet he was fairly decent at changing his identity and creating a background history that would be boring and not raise any flags. Then he’d get a job where no one would think to look.”

The biting fury in King’s tone came out with every word. “I bet he was quite pleased when he landed a job working for a well-known bounty hunter who used to be a cop,” King sneered, his eyes glowing and his face red when he stopped and took loud, slow breaths.

After a few moments of silence, King leaned against his kitchen counter and turned his head to stare at Micah. “Are you simply going to sit there and say nothing?” He seriously seemed surprised that that was exactly what Micah was doing. “Micah, your background check goes back three months, which is normally as far as someone looks if they are hiring. Honestly, I didn’t dig any deeper until those four men died over at Club Paradise. Prior to three months ago, you didn’t exist. Your credit report is squeaky-clean, too clean. And I have spent the past two days trying to reach your landlord. He won’t even answer my calls.”

King sighed and shook his head, looking disgusted, and tired. “You fit the MO, son. You’re one hell of a good shot, quite possibly the best I’ve ever seen. You’ve been here around four months now and I don’t think either one of us has heard you say a word about your family, a girlfriend, kids, or anything about your personal life.”

Micah had to say something. It had to be convincing and simple. Another part of him insisted he didn’t have to say a word. Let King ramble on all he wanted. The old man knew he couldn’t prove any of it. Micah could simply let him go on until he ran out of hot air then wish him a good night and leave.

Micah had to figure out what to say. He’d never rehearsed how to respond if anyone directly accused him of being an assassin. There were times when he and his father and uncle had discussed it in the past. He was sure of it. At the moment, though, his mind was blank on standard answers that might apply to direct questions. No one had ever asked him to his face if he were part of Mulligan’s Stew.

Micah respected King yet he’d just described him as a horrific murderer who should be locked up and the key thrown away. Micah’s uncle and dad believed they offered an exemplary service. He understood their thinking but also knew it curbed the appetite of the monster in him. He knew he could never lead a “normal” life. But having someone he liked, respected, and even looked up to stare him in the face with disgust and state they despised who he was made it damn near impossible to look him in the eye and feign innocence. Yet he had no choice. Micah had to ignore the sickening feeling in his gut, had to endure the dryness in his mouth and the lack of a quick response. He had to stare King back in the face and lie to him, knowing it would be clear to both of them that it was a lie.

An innocent man wouldn’t sit there while King rambled on and not say a word. Micah cleared his throat and as he suspected, King’s expression sharpened with impatience. He narrowed his eyes and waited to hear what Micah could possibly say.

“It’s a good story,” Micah said calmly. He didn’t react when King puffed out his chest and straightened to his full height. “If I’m not doing my job the way you want me to, I swear, tell me what I’m doing wrong and I’ll fix it.”

“For crying out loud,” Haley wailed, throwing her arms up in the air as she turned and looked at her husband.

“You’re kidding me,” King snarled at the same time.

Micah stood, moving to the back of his chair then holding on to it. “What do you want me to say?” he yelled at both of them.

“We’re not going to let an assassin destroy what we have,” Greg yelled back.

Micah didn’t like how King stared at him as if he were trash. The way he spit out the word
assassin
turned Micah’s stomach. They were both right, though. He was a trained killer. The CIA had stopped looking for him, and it was clear who the men were who had tried hunting him down. The plan was for Micah to fly to the other side of the country and kill the men before they said or did anything to implicate the Mulligans.

Greg King wanted nothing to do with someone who killed people on a regular basis. It was quite clear that a person like that was as much a lowlife as the four men Micah had killed at Club Paradise. And that stung.

Micah let out a slow breath as he took his time looking at each one of them. Part of him wanted to tell them the truth. A larger part of him knew he could never do that.

“I’m going to head home,” he told them finally. There was nothing else to say.

“Micah,” Haley said. Her motherly tone was gone. She sounded firmer than he’d ever heard her speak. “We think it best if you don’t come back.”

His protest was on his lips. Micah shouldn’t have looked at both of them. He should have turned and walked away, grateful that part of his brief life while here in LA was now severed. He did look at Haley. When he met Greg King’s knowing stare something closed up inside of him. King looked disappointed, as if he’d expected more out of Micah and he’d failed him.

“I’ll miss working here,” he said truthfully.

Neither one of their expressions changed. They were protecting what was theirs from a killer and a monster. This time he walked out of their house and didn’t look back.

Chapter Fourteen

Maggie parked in front of Micah’s house and stared at the nondescript place. His bike was in his garage. Heavy curtains covered all windows. It was hard to say if someone lived there or not. Apparently he liked it that way. It gave Maggie the eerie sensation that someone was hiding in that house. But Micah wouldn’t hide from anyone or anything. He would stalk, attack, and kill.

He already had killed—four times. Had he killed prior to the other night? He’d been so cool and unemotional about it.

Everything had changed since the other night. Maggie would never be the same after seeing such a heinous crime. She reminded herself that she’d heard the terrible crime going down. Judge Stabler had been trying to kill her just because she
might
have had information that could jeopardize him. He was an evil person. He would definitely rot in hell for his crimes.

Maggie could only guess that the other three men were just as evil. The Frank person had seemed agreeable to Stabler’s plans. They were partners. He’d been partners with her uncle. God! Was her uncle going to rot in hell, too? Maybe he would make amends while in jail, although that could be his hell.

In a way, Micah was giving evil men their justice. Believing that helped her wrap her mind around all of this. What she witnessed was Micah’s reaction to a very large-scale drug deal about to go down. And he had stopped the man who was trying to kill her.

He didn’t
stop
—he
killed.

Maggie quit staring at his house. It would take her time to come to terms with what she’d seen, and there wasn’t anyone she could talk to about it. If she said something to Micah, he would think she was no longer interested in him. That wasn’t true. She was trying to understand him.

Grabbing the two bags she’d brought over with her, Maggie caught a glimpse of the silk outfit she’d planned on putting on while preparing dinner. The knee-length silk robe that came with it would come off after dinner. She’d been so excited about tonight she had almost raced through the grocery store buying everything she needed to make her mother’s famous manicotti. Maggie had all the fresh greens for a salad and a bottle of wine. Now staring at everything, her stomach twisted in knots. What if Micah didn’t want her playing house over here?

He’d agreed to it over the phone earlier. Maggie found her confidence, grabbed the bags, and got out of her car, making sure she locked it. Why had he chosen such a crappy neighborhood to live in? Micah didn’t strike her as a poor person, and he certainly worked long hours. She hurried to the door and knocked.

The locks clicked immediately, as if Micah had been waiting for her on the other side. He unlocked his door and opened it, his gaze sweeping up and down her as she walked inside and past him.

“I’ll take those,” he offered, reaching for the bags in her hands.

Maggie thought she heard him growl as he looked down and caught a glimpse of the silk. She watched him stroll into his kitchen and put the bags on the table. His faded denim jeans hugged his muscular legs. He wore a bright blue tank top that was tucked into his jeans. Micah’s shoulders were so broad, his chest muscles rippled and taut, and his waist slender, flat, and rock-hard. Maggie was almost drooling before he put the bags down, then turned around.

She almost didn’t have time to react when Micah cleared the space between them and grabbed her. The air whooshed out of her lungs when he lifted and pressed her against his front door. Maggie forgot to inhale when she stared into his eyes. She’d never seen him look so tormented, so haunted.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He didn’t answer but instead attacked her mouth, his kiss greedy and hot. Maggie wrapped her arms and legs around his virile body and kissed him back. Maybe she’d misread what she’d just seen in his eyes. Her phone call earlier had definitely suggested they would have sex tonight. Apparently Micah had decided to do things in a different order than she’d suggested. And maybe he didn’t care about lingerie.

Micah used his body to keep Maggie pinned against the wall while moving his hand between them. He undid her shorts. His hand moved to her breast, kneading it for only a moment before shoving her tube top up. The moment both breasts were exposed he shoved her harder against the door, growling into her mouth as he tweaked her nipple with skilled fingers.

Her world exploded from an array of concern, desire, and an unleashed need to have him inside her. Maggie was instantly soaked. Her pussy swelled and moisture coated her sensitive, smooth folds.

Micah was rough, almost animalistic, and it turned her on even more. Here was a man more intense than any she’d met before. As he devoured her mouth, sinking deep inside with his tongue until she almost gagged, Maggie didn’t forget the tortured look he gave her before trapping her against his front door. Micah was strong, demanding, so incredibly confident in who he was and what he could do that he took on life with a fierceness most men didn’t know.

Despite his collected, quiet, and protective nature, something simmered just underneath what he showed to the world. It was something others didn’t see. Either he was trying to show her the tortured soul he hid so well, or it was coming out along with his feelings for her. If she learned what it was he barely managed to control inside, Maggie would know Micah so much better. Possibly it would also relieve whatever was bothering him.

She held on to his rock-hard shoulders, pressing her fingers into warm flesh on either side of his tank top. There wasn’t any way to yank his shirt up in their current position but she desperately wanted to feel his chest against her breasts. When she grabbed the top of his shirt and pulled, the rumbling in his throat turned fierce.

“Maggie,” he said, growling her name.

She held on tight when he backed up from the door, turned, and almost threw her onto the couch. She landed on her rear end but immediately repositioned herself to her knees.

“Get out of your clothes,” he ordered. “All of them.”

Micah tugged off his tank top, kicked his shoes off, and was unzipping his jeans as he stared at her. He wasn’t focusing on what he was doing but watching her while his hands moved mechanically at undressing him. Maggie drowned in the carnal, possessive way he focused on her. He looked so hungry.

Her fingers were damp as she kicked off her sandals, pulled her tube top over her head, and slid out of her shorts that he’d already unzipped. She jumped, but managed not to yelp when Micah shoved his coffee table out of the way. He cleared all the space between the two of them then reached for her. His hands were on fire when he grabbed her ankles and stretched her legs apart.

“Couldn’t wait until after dinner?” she teased and reached for him when he moved between her legs.

“Nope.” He knelt against the couch, and her pussy brushed against his taut stomach. Micah wasn’t looking at her face any longer. His gaze traveled over her body, scanning every inch of her as if he couldn’t decide where to start.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” she whispered.