Slow Heat Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sometimes he had someone meeting him up front before the club opened for business and he’d make the bartenders work before they were supposed to clock in, waiting on him and whoever he entertained. Ever since his arrest, though, Maggie had made sure she knew who he was meeting with and what the meeting was about. Her uncle, who was ten years older than she was and the youngest of the ten Santinos, too often behaved as if he were ten years younger. He always acted wounded, if not put out, that Maggie continually questioned his behavior. Uncle Larry swore he was innocent and had been framed. Either way, Maggie firmly believed that if he were hanging around good people, none of this would have happened.
    Maggie stepped around her desk, moving to the door, but froze when Micah grabbed her ledger book, flipped it shut, and clasped it under one powerful arm.
    “You can’t take that!” she complained loudly, turning on him and reaching for the book. Her fear dissipated and anger replaced it. It didn’t matter how much sex appeal Micah Jones possessed. This had gone too far. “Give that back to me right now,” she demanded, extending her hand and staring him down with all the outrage she felt at the moment.
    “Actually, I can take it.” He took her extended arm and held on to her with a grip strong enough that she couldn’t free herself. “Tell your guard dog there is no problem,” Micah whispered in her ear when he pulled her up against his virile body. “Unless you want him to see his boss being arrested.”
    She spun around so fast, Maggie slapped Micah’s chest to maintain her balance. If she hadn’t seen his relaxed, carefree expression when he’d first entered the building, she wouldn’t have believed it existed.
    “Arrested?” she gasped, her entire body suddenly trembling. “You don’t mean me, no!” she argued. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    “Then I’m sure you’ll be back to work in no time.” Micah held on to her and half dragged, half carried her to the front of the club.
    “What’s going on?” Max bellowed.
    Maggie didn’t have a chance to reassure him everything was fine, as Micah had told her to do. She didn’t even see him. Micah had her pinned against him, his grip pinching her skin, and her feet barely touching the ground as he headed into the club.
    Club Paradise was a large establishment, with over thirty small tables for drinking and dining, a pool hall, and a dance floor complete with an incredibly expensive light system. Freddy, their DJ, was already behind his booth, leaning against it with a sober look on his face as he watched the people in the club. Three of their bartenders were behind the bar, all of them huddled together and shifting their attention quickly to Maggie when she appeared, still in Micah’s clutches.
    Maggie felt her skin burn, her heart pound so hard in her chest she could barely move, and her legs threaten to turn to jelly. Larry was red-faced, his hands fisted at his sides as he shifted repeatedly from one foot to the other.
    “I want my lawyer,” he kept repeating, although he was hard to see with the giant men standing around him. “You can’t do this,” he wailed.
    Maggie made inventory of each man, noting one man who was so large he had to be at least six and a half feet tall. There was another man next to him. A short woman spoke softly to Larry. All of them faced her uncle. None of them looked at her when she entered the club. Were they arresting him? Why would Micah suggest she be arrested, too?
    “What’s happening here?” she asked, glancing up at Micah’s stony expression.
    He didn’t answer her—just looked straight ahead and held on to her until they joined the group.
    “This is Maggie O’Malley, the club’s accountant.” Micah then looked at the man facing him.
    An older man with threads of silver going through his short hair nodded at Micah. “You’ve got the books to the place?”
    “Yes, sir.” Micah turned over