Slow Heat (7 page)

Instead of answering, Maggie crossed her arms and met his gaze head-on, glaring at him as if his question were preposterous. All she could possibly know about him was where he worked, where he lived, and that he was easily twice as strong as her and with skills she didn’t possess. Skills to chase down, capture, and arrest men and women who had bounties on their heads. Yet she glared at him as if she’d take him on right then and there. He liked that about her. Micah had a sudden desire to stand, move in on her, and test those tempting waters she was showing off to him.

“The cops think Club Paradise is a cover for illegal activity and that it isn’t actually making the money it claims to be making.” She dropped her purse on his coffee table next to the unopened beer. “Which is absolutely ridiculous,” she exclaimed, and began pacing in front of him. “They took my ledger book.” She stopped and pointed an accusing finger at Micah. “You took my ledger book. But someone also took my computer. If it weren’t for hard-copy backup files, I wouldn’t have a clue how to defend myself through all of this.”

He would have to check whether the police had searched her house. Micah would pretend he hadn’t heard what she just said, at least for right now. “Why is it ridiculous?”

Maggie stopped pacing, faced him, and put her hands on her hips, gaping. “Did you even look at my ledger book after taking it from me?”

“It was evidence.” When her expression didn’t change, he slowly shook his head. “I don’t make a habit of going through evidence. I handed it to my boss. You were there when I did it.”

“My uncle is locked up and I can’t talk to him.”

“Talking to him wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Again she looked at him as if he had two heads. “Uncle Larry isn’t smart enough to use a nightclub as a front to launder money.”

Micah stared at her. Did she really not see why she was the likely candidate behind this operation? Maybe she was one of those book-smart people who didn’t have a lot of common sense. If that were the case, and she were guilty, the cops would have gotten it out of her.

“Club Paradise is not being used as a front for money laundering,” she stressed.

“Do you understand what the charges are against your uncle?” he asked.

She narrowed her gaze on his. “Maybe you are the wrong person for this job. It’s not your responsibility to determine guilt or innocence. All you are is the hunting dog.”

He’d been called a lot worse. Micah straightened, pulling his feet off his coffee table. “I’m a bounty hunter,” he said simply.

“Then why did you come after me, too?”

“What did the police say to you?” he countered.

Maggie began pacing again. “Nothing. They wouldn’t answer any of my questions. But they sure had enough of their own.”

“What did they ask you?”

“Questions about the ledger, my bookkeeping.” When she paused again her smile was cool, with a hint of warped satisfaction. “They wanted to know where the other ledger was,” she said, then laughed drily. “Maybe I should be flattered that they thought me such a good bookkeeper. They went through my books, saw how perfectly well kept they were, and couldn’t find where all of this supposed illegal money is. Honestly, I’m not sure it exists. But when I asked them that?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Lord, you’d think I’d asked to see the pope.”

“Detectives don’t usually like the implication that they’ve done their job wrong.”

“And I do?” she countered. But then she pointed her finger at him. “They fucked up big-time,” she hissed, that temper of hers flaring again. It made her eyes glow a beautiful dark shade of blue. “Maggie O’Malley doesn’t go down without a fight,” she announced, pounding her chest. “They think they can just follow me around town and I’ll commit some crime that will prove them right. They can’t admit they made a mistake. Like I would lead them to whoever is responsible for hiding some enormous amount of illegal money.”

“Then why come to me?” Not that he was complaining. At first he hadn’t thought Maggie his type. But he’d been wrong. Maggie was beautiful and he was enjoying the hell out of watching her pace back and forth across his small living room.

She spun around, her back to his dining room. Her shoulder-length auburn hair flipped over her shoulder and fanned across her face. She slapped it out of the way and heaved in a deep breath. Micah let his gaze fall to the swell of cleavage visible at the V of her sweater.

“I don’t want the police thinking I’m a criminal. I don’t want to be followed. I want my computer back. I want my life back!” she yelled. When her attention dropped to the floor, she blew out a breath and visibly deflated. “You don’t seem interested in helping me,” she mumbled, that Irish temper of hers completely gone. “Maybe it was a mistake coming here. What time is it? Where did I put my purse?”

He pointed to his coffee table where her purse sat next to the unopened beer. “It’s after six.”

“Crap. I need to get going.” She looked at him pointedly. “Will you help me or not? Will you find out who is really laundering money through my club?”

“You said it was ridiculous for anyone to be doing anything illegal in your club.”

“It is.” She walked over to her purse, pulled her cell phone out, and looked at it. “LAPD wouldn’t waste all this manpower if something weren’t wrong.”

It was the first seriously intelligent thing she’d said since entering his house. Micah studied Maggie. He really did believe she was innocent. None of the telltale signs that she was lying to him were there, such as glancing to the side instead of never making eye contact, mechanical movements that were the result of a rehearsed soliloquy prepared to convince him of her innocence, or speaking too fast, reciting lines previously memorized. Maggie looked at him, concerned, determined, and frightened. There was no pretense, nothing other than a beautiful young woman, proud of her work and shocked it had been labeled faulty.

Maggie didn’t know what to do. Something told him coming to him had been her last shot.

“You want me to snoop around, ask questions, do some research and find out why someone like your uncle could be charged with such a sophisticated crime. And what if I find out your uncle isn’t as stupid as everyone thinks?” He’d be smart to tell her no. If he helped her, it might draw more attention to him than he could afford. He should stand up, escort her to the door, wish her the best of luck, and send her on her way.

“I think Uncle Larry is guilty of just that,” she mumbled, “being stupid.”

“I’m not cheap,” he said, and his insides tightened when she looked at him quickly, laughing and almost crying at the same time.

“You’ll figure out what is really going on here,” she choked out, still smiling.

Her eyes were suddenly moist crystals, large blue orbs dancing with happiness. Maggie sincerely believed he could save her. The amount of power she placed in his hands with that look of sincere gratitude did something to him. The protector, the carnal predator that always existed just under Micah’s skin surfaced with a ferocity so strong, he almost growled.

Maybe he could do this. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d danced around law enforcement without being detected. Maggie didn’t have a clue who she’d come to for help. She thought him nothing more than a bounty hunter with a private investigator’s license. She’d come to him because he was already familiar with what was going on. He’d have to be careful, incredibly careful. Micah had to admit, after just three months, he was already growing antsy. Helping Maggie out might very well soothe his itch.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed, clapping her hands together and grinning broadly. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I already feel so much better. Now I can go home and spend time with my family and not worry so much.” She started to the door.

He wasn’t ready for her to leave. There was no reason for her to stay, though. She looked at him over her shoulder, still grinning broadly, then laughed.

“You need my number, right?” she asked, then looked down at herself and her empty hands. “Damn. My purse,” she mumbled, and laughed some more.

Her laughter was like a drug seeping into his body, hardening every inch of him. The trained killer was suddenly screaming halt. But the man didn’t want to listen. Micah had spent most of his life learning to read himself so he could better track others. In the very few times he allowed himself downtime, he didn’t want a relationship, but a woman willing to spend the evening with him, enjoy incredible sex, then go on her way. Suddenly he was in unfamiliar water. If he worked for Maggie, they would be forced to spend time with each other. He doubted the sensations she was pulling out of him would subside the longer he was with her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

The intense urge to go to Maggie, stroke her hair, soothe her until she relaxed, letting him take the reins and ensure she would never be in danger, was so strong he barely managed to control it. Micah didn’t protect, though. He killed. People needed protection against him. They didn’t seek him out for protection.

Micah stood, reaching for the purse before she could and handing it to her. All he had to do was tell her no, send her out the door.

“I’ll write my number down for you,” she said and shuffled through her purse for pen and paper.

An incredible weight had just been lifted from Maggie’s shoulders. She exhaled, feeling giddy, light-headed, and overwhelmed. “Thank you,” she mumbled, hating how she looked like a complete idiot in front of him. Micah had no clue how his willingness to help made her feel. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she’d come over here, but when he’d said okay her life seemed to have returned to its normal state.

She looked at him when he stepped around the coffee table, moving in on her space. He made her nervous with the carnal, almost animalistic look in his eyes as he locked gazes with hers. Suddenly her hands were so sweaty she almost dropped her purse.

This man was dangerous—terrifying, in fact. He was a different breed of man from any she’d ever known. Maybe allowing him into her world, requesting that he search deep into her life and her job to find out what had happened to throw suspicion onto her, was a serious mistake.

Whatever she’d seen when he first entered her office earlier that week was suddenly there again. Dark flecks around his pupils made his hazel eyes turn almost black. It was an emotion she couldn’t label. His expression remained relaxed, just as it had when she first met him. Micah didn’t react to anything, at least not like other men did. Even when he’d let his gaze travel over her body, when he’d stared at her boobs a moment longer than he should have, he hadn’t as much as cracked a smile.

Whatever she saw in his eyes just now was possibly as much emotion as he ever let through. Was it pain? She wasn’t sure. There was definitely something simmering just underneath that mask of indifference on his face, and it wasn’t good.

She shivered despite herself and dropped her attention to all the muscles rippling under his T-shirt. “Your boss, er bosses, spoke highly of you.” Maggie imagined Micah had some damn good abilities. Heat spread inside her at the thought of him fucking her senseless. Lord, she needed to get out of there. “I know you’ll be able to fix this entire mess,” she said hastily, forcing her attention on her purse in her hands.

“I’ll take a closer look at your case.”

There was something about the way Micah spoke, as if he were trying to suppress a growl with each word. His raspy baritone scraped across her flesh, igniting relentless need deep inside her. Thank God it would take a good twenty minutes through traffic to get home, and that she’d be bombarded with the entire family once she got there. Quite possibly they would all already be fighting. At least then no one would notice how flustered she might still be.

His dark hair was a bit more tousled than it had been when she first walked in the door. She didn’t remember him running his fingers through it and imagined that accepting a case might create some kind of adrenaline rush inside him.

“Thank you,” she heard herself mumble. “I don’t have a lot of time but we can lay out the preliminaries right now and go into more detail on Monday.”

“You don’t work weekends?”

She dug through her purse, pulling everything out until she reached her wallet. Flipping it open, she took what little money she had left. “My mom has the entire family coming home. Most of them are already there. She called me on my way over here. If I can get away—” She broke off her sentence before finishing. She was rambling. Hell of a way to convince this man she was innocent and completely incapable of committing this crime. But then, how did a money launderer behave?

Maggie handed him two hundred dollars. “I hope this is enough to begin our working relationship. Of course, I expect you to log, and keep receipts of, all of your expenses.” When he showed no reaction, and didn’t make a move to take the money, Maggie tried a reassuring smile. “You’ll learn I’m a stickler for numbers and documenting everything. It’s the accountant in me.” She shrugged, then fought off her frustration when he still didn’t accept the cash or say anything. She waved the money at him. “Take this. I have a receipt book in my purse, I think. If it’s not enough I have more cash at home.” She was pretty sure he already knew her bank accounts and credit cards had been frozen, which still had her pissed as hell.

When Micah moved, Maggie lowered her hand, straightened, and found herself once again staring into his dark hazel eyes. Maggie held her ground, watching him.

“Pay me when I catch whoever has put you in this situation.” That growl that had been barely audible before came out clearly this time.

When he placed his hand over hers, closing his fingers around hers, and the cash she held, heat exploded inside her. An unbearable pressure swelled to life between her legs. Shifting her weight only caused it to grow.

“I’ll work up a contract,” she said, and looked at his hand over hers. “We’ll make everything official.” It was impossible not to return her attention to those evasive eyes of his.

There was still nothing to read in his dark gaze, but his lips curved slightly. They were nice lips for a man, not too full but not thin, either. A shadow spread across his jawbone, the end-of-the-day whiskers. If he kissed her, she would feel their abrasion against her skin.