Dangerous Passion

by Bonnie Dee

  As I walked through the bar’s back door with Baldie at my back and headed toward the burned-out garage, I prayed I wasn’t grasping at straws. But when I found Dale had put a new padlock on the door of his condemned property, I felt more confident than ever I was right. He knew I still had the key to the building in my possession. Why bother to padlock it unless there was something in there worth hiding?

  Chapter Twenty

  Micah

  Unable to break the padlock, Abakumov’s henchman helped me bust out the sheet of plywood covering one of the front windows. He motioned me inside and crawled through after me.

  The abandoned garage was pitch-black inside, and the stench of burnt wood and other fire-damaged materials made me cough. I used the light from my cell phone to illuminate what would have been the waiting area for customers back when this had been a functional repair shop. Baldie used his phone as a flashlight too as we crunched over bits of broken glass and warped linoleum to inspect the area behind the cashier’s counter. I slid open a cupboard underneath the counter, but there was nothing there except outdated car parts catalogs that hadn’t even charred.

  Baldie led the way from the front room into the garage itself. In the center of the room stood the cage where Dale and I had held fights up until a couple of months ago. The mesh walls had partially collapsed along with a section of the ceiling also charred from the electrical fire. I’d walked through the building immediately after the fire, but it hadn’t struck me until just now how close we’d come to a lethal disaster. People could have died here, and I’d given it little thought. No one had gotten seriously hurt, so I’d shrugged it off and moved on. What a callous, thoughtless motherfucker I was, never considering the consequences of my actions and putting people I cared about in danger.

  But this was no time for introspection. I had more immediate things to worry about, like where to begin looking for the pot of gold that might or might not be at the end of this rainbow.

  “There’s a lot of space to search here,” I pointed out. “It would go faster if we had my brothers’ help. I can promise you, they’re not going to try anything. They’re as eager as I am to clear this up.”

  Baldie seemed to consider, then made a call and spat out a few words in his harsh language. A few moments later, I heard J.D. and Jonah entering the building through the window in front. They trooped into the room, the lights from their phones blinding me so I couldn’t see their faces. It was a comfort to have them there, but I hated leaving Gina alone in the bar with Scarface. She must be terrified, and, assuming we got out of this unscathed, she’d never forgive me now.

  We began our scavenger hunt, fanning out and poking around every nook and cranny of the garage. All the lifts and equipment and tools were long gone, but it was obvious where each bay had been. With every second that passed without a discovery, I grew more afraid I’d end up back at square one, in debt to a man who’d squeeze me for every last dime I owned and throw me away like a juiced orange at the end of it—maybe even in a landfill.

  I reached an oil change pit at the far edge of the garage, the bottom stained from years of dripping oil that hadn’t quite hit the catch pan. There was a blue tarp down there wrapped tightly around something in an elongated lump. My pulse bumped a notch as I climbed down into the pit and peeled back the new, shiny vinyl. I glimpsed metal and smelled gun oil before I touched the cool, hard surface of one of the weapons. Relief washed through me, leaving my legs weak.

  “Here! I’ve got ’em,” I shouted. “Right here. They’re here.” I was so happy to be able to say those words, I couldn’t repeat it enough.

  Footsteps clattered overhead as Abakumov’s man and my brothers came to cluster around the pit. I looked up at their silhouettes, feeling like I was at the bottom of a grave.

  “Jackpot,” J.D. muttered.

  “Otlichno!” Baldie muttered. “Excellent.”

  I unwrapped the rifles and began to hand them up one by one into J.D.’s and Jonah’s hands. Five automatic weapons, hardly anything, yet worth so much they could destroy lives.

  Baldie was on the phone, presumably with his boss, talking in short bursts and then waiting for an answer. I knew we weren’t off the hook until the two henchmen packed up the weapons and drove away. These guys might take what they’d come for and leave dead bodies behind, a lesson to others never to cross Abakumov.

  My body vibrated with nervous energy; I wanted this to be over so badly. I needed to lay eyes on Gina again, to know she was okay.

  “Are we square?” I asked as I climbed out of the pit, and in case Baldie didn’t know the expression, I clarified. “We’re good? Even?”

  He lifted one of the assault rifles and examined it from barrel to stock. I shivered even though it was unloaded.

  The Russian looked at me from under his bushy brows. “Your partner. You guess where he is hiding?”

  “Not a clue. He disappeared completely. Nobody I talked to could tell me anything. Trust me, I’m not covering for him. If I knew where he was, I’d tell you.”

  The man grunted and lowered the weapon. “No problem. We find eventually.”

  I had no doubt they would. As much as I hated Dale just then for the trouble he’d brought to my doorstep, I didn’t want to think about what they’d do to him, and if I had guessed his whereabouts, I wouldn’t really have revealed it.

  “All right. Otlichno,” Baldie repeated. “Help to carry these, and we are ‘square’. Abakumov says you are good man and he would work with you again in future.”

  Something that would never ever happen, I swore. Once I was free of this mess, it would be fresh-start time for me. I longed for that clean page without a blot on it, but I couldn’t pretend my dirty past hadn’t happened, not for myself and not for Gina.

  She’d seen the worst of me. Would she really give me a chance to prove to her I could be better than this?

  *

  Gina

  You don’t know what time dripping by second by painful second is until you’ve waited with a gun barrel poked into your ribs.

  The entire time Micah was gone, and then his brothers after him, I stayed hugged up close to the huge man with his iron arm wrapped around me. Like we were too much in love to let go of each other, he continued to hold me tight.

  He didn’t say a word. I didn’t either. And the seconds ticked past.

  And his pistol stabbed my side. One accidental flex of his finger and… I could already imagine the impact, the feeling of a bullet tearing through my intestines.

  Sweat poured down my body, drenching my clothes. My hair draped over my face, but I didn’t lift a hand to push it back. I swallowed, but my mouth was so dry my throat just made a clicking sound.

  I tried to remember I wasn’t exactly a hostage. Even if the Wyatts didn’t find those weapons, Micah and Jonah had a plan to pay off the debt. It wouldn’t be logical for anyone to shoot me—unless they planned to make a very dramatic point to Micah. Did criminals actually operate on logic?

  Criminals who bought and sold automatic rifles to God knew who. And Micah, a man willing to work for such scary, morally bankrupt people. I’d come here to tell him I cared about him and hoped for the best for him and to beg him not to put his life in danger over these guns. Look how all my soppy emotional plans had turned out. I’d gotten sucked into his insane universe, a place I never ever wanted to visit again, assuming I got out of here alive.

  The man cradling me against him cleared his throat and shifted. My knees were so weak, I was leaning into him. I straightened and held my body poker stiff and listened for the sound of the back door opening.

  Please, oh please. God, I can’t believe I’m asking you this but please help Micah find the damn guns for these guys.

  At last, the sound I’d been waiting for came, a door opening, voices muttering low, and then the wonderful sight of the three brothers trooping into the bar followed by the bald man. Their hands were empty, but their expressions were relieved.

 
The bald mobster nodded and spoke a few words to his partner, and the iron band around my body released. I stumbled forward and grabbed hold of the back of a chair to keep from collapsing.

  My heart still raced, adrenaline shooting through my veins like a drug and making my head buzz. I clung to the back of that chair like it was a life raft in the middle of a hurricane. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes, and I feared I might pass out.

  A belated reaction now that the actual danger had passed, because the two Russians were leaving the bar without even a das vi danya.

  After the door closed behind them, there was a moment of absolute silence. The place was so quiet, I could hear the furnace fan blowing warm air and the hum of the refrigerator…and then Micah’s footsteps as he crossed the room toward me.

  “Are you all right?”

  I blew out a deep breath and stood straight, though I still clung to the chair. “What do you think? I was just held at gunpoint!”

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, those blue eyes of his as dark as two muddy pools. “Really sorry. That was the last thing I wanted to have happen. It’s why I warned you to stay away.”

  “Oh, so this is my fault for showing up here. Of course,” I snapped. I was too angry to be at all reasonable. “I came here for Leah, who’s worried out of her mind about you.” I turned my glare on J.D., who stood near the bar by his elder brother. The pair could’ve been twins but for the deeper grooves on either side of Jonah’s mouth that added a few more years to his face.

  “I don’t know what else I can say beside I’m incredibly sorry you got caught up in this.” Micah reached toward me.

  I slapped his hand away, and it felt so good that I lifted my hand and slapped again, this time hitting his chest. I pounded him with one fist, then the other. “You’re an idiot! I knew that the moment we met. I don’t know why I let myself think—” I choked on a sob and cursed. I didn’t want to be weak. I wanted Micah to know how furious I was.

  And I absolutely didn’t want him to slip his arms around me and hug me, not after having been gripped for what had felt like years by my captor. Jesus, I could say that now. I’d had a captor. I’d been a hostage.

  I kicked Micah in the shin and punched him again.

  “Will you just—” he began, holding his hands palms up.

  “No, I won’t,” I snapped. “I won’t do anything you want me to do. I’m leaving. I’m going home, and you won’t see me again.” I whirled toward J.D. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll call Leah right now. Do you know what you’ve put her through?”

  Micah started in again. “Please, Gina, I swear to you I’ve changed. I’m done doing stupid things. Or at least illegal ones. If you’ll give me another chance, you’ll see.”

  Those hands were reaching out again, risking more smacks. And this time I crumpled like a house of cards, shaking with sobs as I collapsed into his embrace. He held me, and murmured more apologies against the top of my head.

  Over my crying, muffled against Micah’s chest, I heard Jonah say to J.D., “So that’s Micah’s girlfriend? I like her. Seems like she could keep him in check.”

  I clung to Micah’s warm, solid body, and when I drew a ragged breath, I smelled his familiar scent, a faint whiff of cologne and just…him. I didn’t want to feel so deeply. I didn’t want to want him so much. I gave another pound of my fist against his chest and said into his shirtfront, “A gun, Micah!”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he repeated once more and rubbed his hand down my back as he kissed my hair.

  Rapid footsteps creaked across the floor. “I’ve gotta go,” J.D. said. “I need to see Leah.”

  Another heavy tread followed. Jonah said, “I’m checking into a motel. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Once more I heard the distant sound of the back door opening and closing, then Micah and I were alone in the bar. For several long seconds, or maybe even minutes, I clung to him while I wept, then sniffed, then fell silent.

  I wanted to stay that way, pressed against him, sheltered in his arms for much longer, but I forced myself to pull away. I wiped my eyes. “I should go too.”

  “Can’t you stay a while and talk?” Micah wheedled. “You could probably use a drink after what you’ve been through. Please stay.”

  “I can’t.” Drying my cheeks with my hands, I refused to meet his gaze, which I knew would pull me to him like a magnet.

  “Then at least let me walk you to your car. I want to make sure you get there safely.”

  I shot a glance at his face, a bolt of fear spearing me. “You think I might not? You think those guys are still hanging around? What more do they want from you?”

  “No! I didn’t mean it like that. They’re gone for good. Don’t worry. I just want to see you to your car is all.” His brows knitted together. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I don’t know how I can make it up to you.”

  “You can’t,” I answered truthfully. “You can’t erase what happened to me, and now I’m the one who has to live with the memory of it.” I swallowed a fresh wave of emotion that threatened to start me crying again. “It’s about consequences, Micah. You do certain things, and you can’t take them back.”

  He dropped his gaze to the floor, looking so penitent, my heart ached. “I know. I get that. Come on. Let me walk you.” He lightly touched my elbow and guided me toward the exit.

  Part of me wanted to shake him off and stalk away to make my point. But honestly, I couldn’t refuse the comfort of his strong, protective presence by my side. I still felt shaky and disoriented, as if I was in a waking nightmare. I was afraid of being alone.

  Micah stopped offering apologies or trying to soothe me with words as we walked the few blocks to where I’d parked my car. The city carried on all around us, oblivious to the drama that had taken place. It was a normal, busy late afternoon with pedestrians flocking here and there and a steady stream of traffic on the street.

  We reached the spot where my car should have been. I looked at the empty spot, then away, then back again as if it would magically reappear. “No. Oh no, no, no. This is too much.”

  “You parked there?” Micah pointed at the yellow paint on the curb. “That’s a tow-away zone.”

  “No fucking kidding!” I barked. “I can’t believe my life right now.” Fresh tears came rolling up and spilling out of my eyes. I clapped my hands to my face as if I could hold them back.

  Micah’s arm went around me, holding me steady. “It’s all right. I’ll drive you to the impound lot and pay the fine. It shouldn’t take too long. Or if you’d rather, I’ll drive you home while I take care of everything.”

  I pulled away and shot him a teary glare. “How are you going to do that? You’re not me. They’re not going to release my car to you. And can you drive two cars at once? Besides, I don’t have a home right now. I’m home…less.” The final word broke in the middle and ended on a wail.

  “Aw, darlin’.” He took hold of me again and pulled me close.

  Damn him and his Southern drawl and big strong arms. I was powerless to resist. I snuggled against his body like a child seeking comfort, and he crooned and stroked my hair some more.

  “Come on home with me,” he said. “You can stay at my place tonight. Sleep in my bed, and I’ll take the couch. No messin’ around, I swear. And tomorrow we’ll go get your car back. Or we can go now. Whatever you want to do.”

  What I wanted was a strong shot of something to heat the chill in my very core and to take away the shakiness. Then I wanted to be tucked into bed like a baby. Micah’s offer was too tempting.

  Once more I drew back from him and wiped away tears. “Car first. I have no idea what impound lot to go to.”

  “I’ll figure all that out. You relax now, hear?” He kept his arm around me as we walked to where his vehicle was parked.

  I comforted myself with the idea that he owed me this after what his stupidity had put me through. I wasn’t caving in and letting him back into my lif
e. No. I was simply getting my just due. He owed me my car back at the very least.

  With a few phone calls and a wad of cash, Micah sorted out the car situation, and soon I was reunited with my own set of wheels.

  As I sat in the impound lot, waiting for the gate to open, engine humming, Micah leaned to talk to me through the window. “Will you come back to my place and let me put you up for the night?”

  I considered my alternatives. I had a few friends who’d host me if I asked, or I could get a cheap motel room. But I didn’t want to explain the reason for my homeless state yet again, and I couldn’t spend another night at Leah and J.D.’s place. I was pretty sure they were in the midst of a big argument right about now.

  As for the cheap motel, honestly I couldn’t bear the idea of being alone all night. I was still too freaked out by what I’d been through.

  “All right. Fine,” I said.

  Micah’s brilliant smile tore at my heart. It made me want to cry again and at the same time reach through my open car window, grab his throat, and choke him out. This stupid, charming man was too dangerous to be around—and too tempting for me to resist.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Micah

  I stood in my kitchen, dunking a chamomile tea bag in a cup and sneaking glances at Gina sitting in my living room. Wrapped in my couch afghan, she looked small and vulnerable with her hunched shoulders and drooping head. The TV played in front of her, but she wasn’t seeing the screen.

  I’d done that, given her memories she’d never be able to blot out, showed her what it meant to be truly afraid for her life. I hated myself for putting her in that situation. For the first time in my life, I was thinking beyond my own needs. I cared for someone more than myself, and that was a scary feeling.

  My brothers and me never talked about emotions or feelings. I can’t remember many conversations that went beyond the simple facts of our day-to-day life growing up. We always had each other’s backs, that was a given, but we didn’t discuss how we felt about stuff that happened to us, or about each other.