Dangerous Passion

by Bonnie Dee

  I steeled my nerve before opening the door. Coming uninvited when Micah had specifically asked for some distance suddenly seemed like a bad idea. So, I’d tell him my news, then gauge from his reaction whether I was welcome to stay a while. How pathetic that I had to play that kind of game. Why shouldn’t I be able to go to him purely as a friend for a few words of solace? We were still friends, weren’t we?

  The bar was the most crowded I’d ever seen it. Most of the tables and all the barstools were filled. Voices clamored above really loud music. I glimpsed J.D. behind the bar and scanned the room for Micah.

  He came from the back just then, his height and the reddish cast of his hair catching my eye across the crowded room. He stopped at the bar, said something to J.D., and continued on through the bar, heading toward the front.

  As I moved toward him, I noted his preoccupied frown. He was clearly worried about something. I almost wanted to turn around and duck out before he spotted me, but it was already too late. Micah looked up, and our gazes met.

  I lifted my hand in a little wave. He stopped stock-still for a moment, his frown deepening. Then he glanced around the bar before hurrying toward me.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” He took hold of my arm and escorted me toward the door.

  My stomach dove, and a hot ball of pain and anger filled my throat. God, I was such an idiot. I’d fallen for his sweet talk, imagined there was something between us, hoped for more than a one-night stand. What an idiot! The definition of insanity was making the same mistake over and over and expecting a different result.

  We were in the entry now, and I jerked my arm free from his grip. “Let go of me. Don’t freak out. I’ll leave.”

  “Wait.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back before I could push through the door. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  “You told me to keep my distance, and I didn’t listen. My bad.” I glared at him. “You won’t see me again, I promise.”

  “No. You don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s that… Christ, there’s no good way to say this. I’m a little dangerous to be around just now. I told you I was dealing with some business stuff.” He looked at me with no laughter in his eyes for once, and suddenly what he was telling me clicked into place.

  “Oh.” I glanced at a couple walking past us and lowered my voice. “You don’t mean the bar business.”

  He pulled me away from the front door and up the side staircase that led to his apartment, but he stopped halfway up the steps.

  “The thing is I let Dale Croft talk me into doing this one-time thing. He convinced me I owed him, and then he screwed me over big-time. Stole some stuff from these guys, and now they’re…” He shook his head. “You don’t need the details. You get the gist.”

  I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. It was awful, but part of me rejoiced that he wasn’t rejecting me. If anything, he was trying to keep me safe by pushing me away from his troubles. He cared enough to worry about me, and that was something.

  But another much larger part of me was horrified. Micah wasn’t just into nickel-and-dime stuff. He was involved with some serious criminals. God knew what he’d done for them. Once again, I’d fallen head over heels for a not so great guy. I should run from him and never look back. I should get a grip on my emotions and not allow myself to make excuses for him.

  But, oh God, how I wanted his arms around me right then. I needed it so badly, I could hardly breathe.

  “Well,” I finally said, then cleared my throat and rubbed my hand up and down the stair banister as I searched for something to say. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It was stupid to get in bed with these guys. I’m kicking myself now, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to come up with… Forget it. It’s better if you don’t know.” He rubbed the furrow between his brows. “After I figure all this out, I hope we can still see each other. I do want to, Gina.”

  His eyes scanned mine, searching for my answer.

  I didn’t have one to give him. My knee-jerk reaction was to say Sure. I’m here for you whenever you’re ready. We’ll figure this out. But damned if I’d go down the Jeff road again. I’d learned too much since then. I was my own person, not an appendage to some guy who made crappy decisions. I didn’t know if I should be there for Micah, even when and if he got his “situation” cleared up. Being the type of guy he was, one bad choice would follow another, and I’d be sucked down the rabbit hole with him.

  I exhaled. “I just came by to tell you Mrs. Heidelberg died today. I thought you might want to know. She took a real shine to you, and you were sweet to her.” My voice started to crack, and I swallowed.

  “Oh no. I’m sorry.” He reached for me, and it would have been so easy to fall into his embrace. Let him hug away the sadness and stress of the day. But I pulled back. I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t use him as a crutch, and I wouldn’t wait patiently on the back burner while he worked through whatever illegal crap he’d gotten himself into. This relationship could only have a bad ending, if not now then later when it might be even uglier.

  I took a step down. “I have to go. I need to—” To what? Find a place to spend the night? If I was being honest, I’d come here hoping to stay with Micah. How miserably clingy was that? I’d go to Leah’s instead, and tomorrow I’d work things out with my sublet tenant so I could take possession of my own apartment again. “Good-bye, Micah.”

  He followed me down a step and reached toward me. “Wait. You could come up for a few minutes. Have a drink or something before you go. Tell me about your day.”

  “No. I really can’t. Whatever it is you’re into, I don’t want any part of it, so…I’m not going to be seeing you again.” Did I really just say that? Just end it simply without any We’ll see or Maybe?

  “Give me a little time to fix this, then I’ll be done with all of it, I swear,” he pleaded. “I’ll even retire my bookmaking. Everything will be aboveboard from now on. Nothing squirrelly.”

  My feet were planted on the landing now. I let go of the banister. I couldn’t look Micah in the eyes as I spoke, so I stared at the scarred wood of the bottom step. “I dated an alcoholic for a while once. He made a lot of promises he couldn’t keep too. Things would be great for a few days, then they’d be horrible again. I’m not going to get sucked into a lifestyle like that.”

  “I can change. I will. Please.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ve never… I haven’t felt this way about any woman before. I want to be with you, if you could just give me some time.”

  It would be too easy to agree to his request. He sounded so sincere. Micah and sincere were two things I’d never thought I’d use in the same sentence, but a lot had changed in a very short time. But I’d made a few vows of my own after moving back here after the California disaster. One was to put me first instead of molding myself around some guy’s needs. I couldn’t fall into that trap again.

  “I have to go now, Micah. Good-bye.” I hurried toward the door as if it was an escape hatch from a plane going down.

  After I got outside, I stopped and leaned against the side of the building, letting waves of sadness and disappointment shudder through me. Maybe I half hoped Micah would come after me and make another plea, but he didn’t.

  I pushed off the wall, wiping tears from my eyes until I could at least make out the blurry path to my car. What a waste. We really could have had something together. I believed underneath all his joking and shady ways, Micah was a sweet guy. Any man so kind to an old woman with dementia couldn’t be all bad. But that sweetness and the occasional flashes of vulnerability I’d glimpsed weren’t enough to outweigh the negative.

  He was a criminal. He did things on the wrong side of the law and got involved with dangerous men. Even he had been wise enough to warn me off. I couldn’t allow Micah’s craziness into my life no matter how much I liked him. It was the mature thing to end it, the adult thing to do.

  And thi
s was nothing like Sonia Heidelberg and her lost love. There was wrong side of the tracks and then there was just out and out bad news. Unfortunately for me, Micah fell into the second category. As much as I might want him or miss him—and I knew that I would—a smart woman would say no way. Whether I would continue to remain smart if he asked the same question a month down the road, I didn’t know.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Micah

  As Gina disappeared through the door, I started down the stairs after her. All I could think of was stopping her. My heart cried after her not to leave me. The first time in my adult life I’d opened up to a woman, and she dumped me.

  I halted in front of the door. It was better this way, safer for her. After several days, I was no closer to finding Dale, the weapons, or money to pay back Abakumov for the stolen merchandise, and my deadline was looming. Five weapons in all, I’d been informed, with a street market value of 80K. I had to trust what Abakumov’s henchman told me. I didn’t know an AK47 from an Uzi, but apparently these particular weapons were high end at 16K a pop.

  I was unhealthy to be around right now. I cared about Gina enough to let her be free of me. Besides, this wasn’t the time to be worrying about a woman I’d developed feelings for. I needed to save my hide, even if that ultimately meant skipping town. I couldn’t possibly be in love. I wasn’t built for it. So I simply wouldn’t be.

  I pulled on the armor that had protected me this long in my life and focused on the next immediate task. My job for the evening was to go to Dale’s usual haunts and see if I could roust anyone who’d seen him or heard from him. He must have talked to somebody before he disappeared. One of his many contacts must know who he’d sold those guns to. Five semiautomatic weapons couldn’t be transported without leaving some trace behind.

  Except I knew I was blowing smoke up my own ass. Any stolen item can be sold and evaporate in a van, plane, or boat, never to be seen again. And a man can easily take that cash, buy a new identity, travel across country, and purchase a plane ticket in another city. Disappearing permanently is surprisingly easy if you have enough money.

  I cursed Croft again for leaving me holding the bag for what he’d done. I couldn’t even go to the DEA and turn state’s evidence against Abakumov in an attempt to save myself. The warehouse was empty now. I had no proof any guns had ever been there, and no useful information to offer agents about the man or his operation. I was just the dumb stooge who’d gotten sucked by a riptide into waters way over his head.

  Every avenue I pursued over the next couple of days was a dead end. Nobody I talked to knew anything. I could never hope to make up the thousands of dollars Abakumov wanted to collect from me. He’d either kill me or make me pay in installments for years to come or perform tasks at his whim. Soon I’d be head-and-shoulders deep in his operation. The option of blowing town sounded increasingly appealing every time I came back to it.

  W.W.J.D.? The question popped into my mind. What would Jonah do? My brother was the man with the plan. He never got painted into a corner. He always had some clever way out—even that time we’d come up against the Baker boys, who wanted to cut into our territory. Jonah handled things. He bossed our family not because he was the oldest but because he was smart and competent, even if he was a cold-blooded dick.

  J.D. was the soulful one, a real hero who constantly struggled to do the right thing.

  And me? I was the designated screwup. Too much like our dad. I could charm the panties off most females, and I was good for a laugh, which made me popular with guys too. But I had no real redeeming qualities. I wasn’t smart like Jonah or brave like J.D. I was a weasel, good at slinking away.

  Returning to The Raptor’s Roost one evening after closing time, I unlocked the front door to let myself in. Already I was mentally packing my bags and withdrawing all my savings from the bank. I was trying to figure out how I could contact a realtor to sell the bar without giving away my hiding place to Abakumov.

  I entered the bar and greeted J.D. who was closing out the cash register. “How was everything tonight?”

  “Normal. Hey, do you want me to—” He never finished. The unlocked door behind me burst open, and a couple of guys swarmed inside. Baldie was one, but Scar wasn’t with him. This time a stocky wrestler type strode alongside him. The guy’s overdeveloped muscles made up for his lack of height. He also carried a baseball bat, which wasn’t a good sign. My stomach plunged to my shoes.

  “You have money?” Baldy asked in his cartoonish accent.

  “Not yet. I’m still working on it. You said I had some time.”

  “You give down payment. Earn trust,” Baldy strongly suggested as his partner placed a hand on my back and propelled me toward the bar.

  “What’s going on?” J.D. frowned at the three of us and whisked the piles of bills he was counting off the bar. “Who are these guys?”

  “Business associates. Don’t worry about it.” I was worried enough for both of us. I wanted J.D. out of there before he went into aggressive mode and made things worse. “Why don’t you go out back?”

  “Uh, no.” J.D. snatched up the baseball bat I keep behind the bar. Nobody had ever had to use it before. Now my angry ex-soldier brother squared off against the short wrestler—club versus club, as if they were two cavemen preparing to fight.

  “Hey, look. This is my problem. You don’t need to get involved in it.” I hurried around the bar and nudged J.D. out of the way. “What’s the count tonight?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. He was too busy glaring at the wrestler, sizing up his opponent. I put the rubber-banded stacks of bills back on top of the bar.

  “This is what I have right now. For anything more, I’d have to go to the bank. Will this be enough ‘good faith’?”

  Baldy swept the cash off the counter without glancing down at it. He stuffed it in this weird man purse he wore strapped across his body, then muttered something in Russian—or Chechen perhaps—to his partner.

  The man lowered his bat slightly, and I exhaled for the first time since they’d invaded my bar. But I relaxed too soon.

  In a flash, the wrestler swept the bat across the top of the bar, knocking the few remaining glasses to the floor with a loud crash. Quick as a cat, he leaped around the bar and smashed a few shelves of liquor too. J.D. lunged at him to stop the destruction, and the bat cracked down on his arm.

  “Whoa!” I shouted and jumped to his defense. Except I had no weapon and no fighting skills. All I could do was put myself between the crazy henchman and J.D. before the man could take another crack at him.

  “Final warning,” Baldy rumbled. “Three more days.”

  So I’d been given a grace period—as if the extra days would make any difference when eighty thousand dollars was at stake.

  Cradling his forearm, J.D. still strained to attack the wrestler. I was too busy holding him back to watch the men leave.

  J.D. swore a long stream of fucks as he rubbed his arm. When I asked if he thought it was broken, he shook off my hand and cursed me too. “No. What the hell was that all about? What have you got yourself into this time, Micah?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “The fuck I don’t. I’m part of it now. What have you done?”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Dale.” Why did I sound like a kid making excuses to a grown-up? “He needed my help. But then he ripped these guys off.”

  “Help with what? Don’t make me ask again. What exactly did you do?” He pushed up his sleeve, and already there was an angry red mark on his forearm. It would be blooming into a purple and black bruise by tomorrow.

  “Are you sure he didn’t crack the bone? I can take you to the emergency…”

  “Stop stalling and tell me,” J.D. shouted.

  “Dale lined up a warehouse where this guy, Abakumov, could park a shipment for a while. All I did was help with the unloading. I felt like I owed Dale, but I told him it would be a one-time thing.” I blew out a breath. “He stole some of the
merchandise, and now he’s gone.”

  “And you’re left holding the bag.” J.D. nodded. “I get it. What was in the shipment? Pot, cocaine, something worse?”

  “That last one.” I gave a weak smile, but my brother wasn’t in a friendly mood. He glared at me until I explained.

  “Automatic weapons of some kind.”

  “Aw, Jesus, Micah.” His disgust made me shrink to the size of an ant. It suggested Of course. Why would I expect anything else? You fucked up again.

  “How much are you in for?”

  “The street value of each piece is about 16K. Dale stole five. Guess it could’ve been worse. He might’ve moved the entire shipment. I’m screwed, so I’ve been thinking of packing up and taking that trip to the Keys I’ve been putting off.”

  J.D. leaned against the bar, still cradling his sore arm. “Just disappear, huh?”

  “Isn’t that what Wyatts do when things get tough?” I clung to a shred of bitter humor, but there was nothing funny about this. Nothing at all.

  Those serious dark eyes studied me. “That what you want, to lose yourself someplace tropical? If that’s really what you want, I’ll help you and cover for you after you’re gone. But I think there’s gotta be a better way out of this.”

  I suddenly realized disappearing wasn’t an option. J.D. was still here. He was connected to me, and that made him guilty by association. Abakumov would punish any family member of mine that was handy. Mob reprisals weren’t pretty. I was in a nightmare and couldn’t run away, sucking mud dragged me deeper and deeper with every step I tried to take.

  “Jonah will be here in a couple days. He texted me right before all this shit blew up,” J.D. announced abruptly. “We’ll get his input and figure something out.”

  Humiliation wrapped around me like a heavy coat, but I could only nod. I had to accept my brothers’ help. This was too big for me to handle alone. I’d screwed up yet again and had only myself to blame for it.