by Lora Leigh
"Did he say why he needed the money?" Nik asked.
Steve's expression hardened as he shook his head. "I didn't want to know. You have to understand Eddie Foreman, Mr. Steele. Loan him a dollar and before you knew it he owed you more than he could ever pay. He lost a lot of friends like that in college. I wasn't going to be one of them."
"The loan shark, you say you know him?" Nik was getting damned tired of the other man glancing at Mikayla with that edge of hunger in his eyes. Gainard was acting like a fucking animal on the prowl.
"Martin Kefler." Gainard nodded. "He's a bookie, a pimp, and a loan shark. Jack of all illegal trades." He grimaced. "Another college acquaintance, though I'm certain Martin didn't graduate from those expensive business courses his crime family put him through. Eddie got himself in a lot of trouble with Kefler several years back as well. He managed to pay him off, but not before he acquired a few broken ribs and a nice little stay in the hospital."
"Isn't Kefler the same man Maddix Nelson nearly lost the property the building site is on to?" Mikayla asked then. "I remember something about his almost being outbid on the property?"
Gainard nodded. "The property owner had that parcel up for auction rather than placing a price on it. He wanted a quick sell. Kefler wanted it, but I guess Maddix wanted it worse. Kefler wasn't happy when he lost it."
"What interest did he have in it?" Nik probed, wondering why a bookie would bother to bid on the property.
"It's a prime location," Steve informed him. "The owner wasn't real smart about selling it, but it was my understanding he had to sell fast. Kefler and Nelson both wanted it, but from what I understand Kefler didn't get notice of Nelson's last bid, for whatever reason. When he didn't come back with another offer, Nelson walked off with the property."
"What about Reed Holbrook?" Since the bastard was so full of information, Nik decided to probe further.
Gainard frowned thoughtfully as he rubbed at his jaw. "He owns a construction 183
company in D.C. I don't know him as well; I haven't dealt with him as much. His business practices have been questioned several times, though. He's a shark. One of the worst if rumor can be believed. But that's about all I know about him." Gainard's gaze slid back to Mikayla as she sipped her coffee. His eyes were locked on her lips, lips still just slightly kiss swollen from her exchange with Nik at the Foreman home.
The other man knew that redness for what it was. His gaze came back to Nik, a hint of anger in it.
Nik smiled. A slow, possessive curve of his lips as he stared back at the other man knowingly. He had what Gainard wanted, what the other man hadn't been able to possess, and if Nik was a betting man, he would bet Gainard had known about Mikayla's lover before he ever hit town.
A small part of Nik felt damned sorry for the other man, though. Nik knew pure male fury would have been eating him alive if Mikayla were sitting here in front of him with a lover. There would be no way in hell Nik could be civilized enough to actually carry on a conversation with the other man.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Gainard." Nik nodded as he rose to leave.
"Before we leave, I need to use the ladies' room," Mikayla announced as she rose as well and glanced at the other man. "Do you mind, Steve?"
"You know where it is, sweetheart." Gainard nodded, his tone softening, his look almost fucking lovesick. Strike two, son of a bitch, Nik thought as his fingers curled into fists.
"I'll meet you in the foyer," she told Nik as she moved through the kitchen to the far entrance and into another hall.
Silence filled the void as Nik followed Gainard to the foyer.
"She's a wonderful woman; I hope you know that," the other man said somberly after several minutes went by. "Don't break her heart." The general consensus was that Nik was going to break her heart. He wondered if anyone knew what it would do to him to walk away.
"And if I do?" Nik bit out with an edge of anger.
"She doesn't deserve it." Steve shook his head. "But if you do, I'll be here, Steele, and I'll help her repair it. Is that what you want?"
Strike three, but Nik was damned if he could hit the bastard. He wanted to. The need to strike out and eliminate any competition raged inside him.
"What I want is none of your business," Nik informed him.
"What you do to her is," Gainard growled back. "I heard about you before I ever stepped foot back in America, and I had you checked out, Steele. Does Mikayla know you're no more than a damned mercenary? A fucking expensive gun for hire? Why don't you hurry up, finish your job here, and get the hell out of her life. She doesn't need you messing it up."
Hell, he was going to end up pissing Mikayla off, Nik could feel it, because he was going to take this bastard's head off his shoulders.
The problem was, Gainard might not have all his information correct, but he was right in the fact that Mikayla didn't need the instability in her life that Nik would bring. He knew that. He wasn't trying to deny it. But having it thrown in his face was only pissing him off.
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"Get your jealousy under control, Gainard," Nik finally responded with mocking amusement. "I promise, I can make you throw the first punch and I can make Mikayla feel damned sorry for me. Is that what you want?"
"When you're gone, and I know you'll be gone," he was told, the other man's tone low, furious, "I promise, I'll pick up the pieces. You might be her first love, but you won't be her last."
"Bet me." Nik only barely managed to disguise the shock at the instinctive words that burst from his lips a second before Mikayla walked back into the foyer. He managed to get her out without growling like an animal or pounding on his chest like a Neanderthal. But just barely.
Possessiveness was suddenly a demon raging through him, pouring into his senses and opening a well of raging lust that he had no idea how to cap. Suddenly he didn't know himself, had no clue how to handle the needs nearly breaking his control or what to do with one fairy-sized little woman. He had a feeling he was simply well and truly fucked.
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Chapter 20
Martin Kefler had a rap sheet that would have made any crime boss father proud, Nik thought that night as he pored over the files Kira and Bailey were busy gathering and sending to him.
The youngest son of a major crime family, Martin had started out with his own stable of prostitutes at the tender age of seventeen. By twenty-one he was into drugs, money laundering, and loan-sharking.
The man was working on building himself a fortune if he could keep his family's greedy little fingers out of his particular pies. The information gathered showed Kefler owed his fellow crime bosses a hefty portion of his earnings, keeping him on the low scale of the power plays that were constantly waged within that particular family.
"Eddie wasn't very smart," Mikayla commented as she read over Nik's shoulder.
"And Martin Kefler looks rather scary."
Nik glanced at the picture of Martin. The long face, heavy goatee, balding in the front of his thick wavy black hair, his large eyes, pale brows, and pale skin. Nik had seen a lot shadier characters, but he could see where Mikayla had problems with this one.
"He's actually considered one of the nicer crime bosses," Nik stated mockingly.
"He at least gives his clients a chance to pay up. Some of the others come after you if you're not paying early rather than on time."
Actually, that was more or less the truth, Nik thought. The reason Kefler was still on the lower tier was his kill ratio. He made the money, not the kills, while the rest of the family had no problems, and actually enjoyed, shedding blood. Not that Martin was considered a good guy; he was simply not as bloodthirsty as the others.
"I know him."
Nik glanced up at her as she moved to the chair beside him, coffee cup in hand. She'd spent the better part of the evening in a back room working on a dress; now that she was back in the room with him, it seemed as if the life had returned. Fucking soft shit, he thought. She was warping his mind.
"I didn't know his name." She shrugged. "I know his girlfriend's name, Eloise Lancaster. She orders some of my more daring designs. I like her." Nik blinked back at Mikayla.
"Eloise is the lead singer with the Jezebels, they're playing in a little place in Frederick right now. She told me her boyfriend is there every weekend with her, if you want to know where to find him."
Mikayla said it so matter-of-factly, as though knowing the mistress of a dedicated crime boss was no big deal. Sweet, innocent, a recent virgin, and she acted as though her connection to a crime family was all in a day's work.
"You're not saying anything, Nik," she stated slowly. He wasn't saying anything. God knew he shouldn't have been surprised. Hell, he'd 186
sworn a long time ago that nothing could surprise him. But staring back at Mikayla, he admitted, he was surprised.
Hell, she would have made a perfect contact. She had clients from D.C. and two he knew of from LA. An exclusive, little-known shop that evidently pulled in clients he simply hadn't expected. Clients he hadn't even known she had.
"Where is this club this woman sings at?" he asked Mikayla. She smiled. "Do I get to go with you?"
"No." He wasn't taking her anywhere close to Martin Kefler. Her expression stilled. "Then find it on your own. I'm sure it won't take you long."
"I'm sure it won't," he agreed.
"See if he talks to you." She crossed one knee over the other and watched him knowingly. "According to Eloise, her boyfriend has a lot of people who want to talk to him but few he'll deal with."
"He'll deal with me," Nik promised her.
"Then I have a dress to finish. Good luck."
As she moved from the kitchen, he watched, feeling the warmth in the room leave with her.
For a moment, he was half-tempted to agree to take her. Hell, he wanted her there. But Mikayla had no business around men such as Martin Kefler. The fact that she was associated with him through one of her customers wasn't the same, Nik told himself.
He'd managed to hurt her, though. His need to protect her was riding hard; the softness of her, the gentleness she brought to his life, was becoming more important, more imperative.
He didn't want her anywhere near Kefler.
As the thought dug into Nik's soul, his cell phone vibrated at his side.
"Steele," he answered quickly, keeping his voice quiet.
"I have some additional information," Ian informed him. "I was told to give this personally."
Nik's lips thinned as he glanced back to the hall Mikayla had disappeared through.
"You'll have to come here."
She was behind on the dresses, Nik knew. Ian could make the trip here just as easily as Nik and Mikayla could make the trip to D.C.
"I'll bring Kira with me," Ian stated. "She can talk dresses with Ms. Martin while we discuss this. Give us about two hours for arrival. There's still a few things I have to clear up."
"I'll be waiting."
Nik disconnected the call before breathing out roughly and staring back at the file on Martin Kefler.
Mikayla was right. Getting a meet with Kefler wasn't easy. He was a wary son of a bitch, and a tough one to boot. She had the perfect in, because according to the information Nik was looking at, Kefler's mistress, Eloise Lancaster, was supposedly his only weakness.
Ms. Lancaster, lead singer for a female rock band named the Jezebels, had her own personal bodyguard, and more than one man had died for attempting to get too close to her. Men who thought striking out at the mistress was suitable revenge against the 187
criminal they were dealing with.
Kefler had shown them differently and made an example of more than one of them.
Rising from the chair, Nik moved to the back room; standing at the open doorway, he watched as Mikayla pieced together material meticulously, a frown on her brow as she lifted her gaze to him.
He could see the anger still simmering there, as well as the hurt.
"Kira Richards and her husband, Ian, will be arriving in a few hours," he told Mikayla. "Ian and I have some business interests, and I think Kira wants to discuss dresses."
Mikayla's brow arched. She wasn't buying that explanation, and the proof of it was the skepticism in her narrowed gaze.
"That's fine," she finally answered before turning her attention back to the material.
"Mikayla, Kefler is too dangerous for me to allow you to accompany me," Nik tried to offset the anger he could feel brewing in her.
She paused again before lifting her head, those amethyst eyes shooting flames back at him now.
"Why don't you just tell me who's going to decide what's too dangerous for me or not too dangerous for me once you decide to ride right out of my life?" Graceful hands went to her hips in challenge. "You know what, Nik? I'm getting real sick of hearing what you think might be too dangerous for me when accompanying you means no more than going to a damned bar or a home office with you to meet with the boyfriend of one of my clients."
Her lips were set, her gaze piercing, as she glared back at Nik now.
"Kefler isn't someone I want you associated with."
Her brows shot up. "Since when is that your choice?"
"Since I became your lover, that's when."
Control went flying out the damned window as he faced the defiance pouring from her. What the hell was it about this one tiny woman that made him fucking insane?
"Since you became my lover?" The question sounded torn from her. Mikayla was ready to strangle on the anger pouring through her now if the fire in her eyes was any indication. "Since when does being my lover give you the right to order me around in any way? Trust me, Nik, you have no more rights now than you had the day you walked into town."
She didn't scream at him. Mikayla didn't scream. She didn't pout. She tried really hard not to cry when she was hurt or angry. But she did nothing to hide the pure disgust she felt at his autocratic decision that she simply wasn't going with him. She could get him in to meet Martin Kefler, and it wasn't as though she weren't already associated with him in a slight way. There was no additional danger in her being with Nik.
"You don't want to understand this." His voice tightened, a sure sign that he was becoming furious himself, and she really didn't give a damn.
"It seems to me, I'm in more danger away from you, but you go right ahead and go meet Kefler by yourself. Maybe we'll get lucky and the next time someone tries to shoot at me they'll miss then, too."
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His eyes were pure white-hot blue flames. Mikayla watched the transformation as though mesmerized the second it hit his eyes.
Her focus on that so visible fury distracted her, giving her less time to react when he stepped across the room and jerked her to him.
"Do you think I wouldn't leave you protected?"
"Babysat," she charged back at him, her head lifting, her gaze staying locked on his. "You would have me babysat rather than having me with you. Thanks, Nik, for showing me how little the time we spend together means to you. I guess I truly am no more than just a ready fuck for you. Shame on me for believing differently." Shock entered his gaze, as though he couldn't believe the word "fuck" had left her mouth. Well, she knew how to use four-letter words, too; she just preferred not to. The reaction she received wasn't one she expected, though. Nik jerked her to him, pulling her body close and up until the hard proof of his erection pressed against her lower stomach. The anger churning within her suddenly morphed into arousal as she glimpsed the need suddenly flaming in his eyes.
"This is all you want, isn't it, Nik?" she whispered, wondering at the desperation she saw in his gaze now.
"There can't be anything else, damn you." Naked, furious need burned in his eyes. It wasn't just lust. It wasn't hunger. It was a need, a burning, intense desperation that made little or no sense.
Her hands slapped against his chest before gripping the edges of his shirt. "Why?
Tell me why! I don't want your promises, Nik, I don't want a commitment you can't give, but by God I want to know why."
It was exploding inside her, her chest, her head, striking through her soul with a pain she had no idea how to control. He didn't trust her; he wouldn't open up to her. The only thing he was willing to share was his body.
It should have been enough. She had promised him it would be enough.
"I can't." The words sounded torn from him, but the hunger that filled his gaze told her otherwise. "I can't give you that."
He wouldn't give it to her. He didn't want to give it to her. All he had to give her was his body.
Her hands jerked apart, ripping open the buttons that held his shirt together to expose the hard, broad contours of his chest. The soft ping of buttons against the bare floor was little more than a knowledge of where the buttons were falling. Not that Mikayla really cared.
"Then give me what I can have," she cried painfully. "Stop taking all of you away from me, Nik."
All of him. She thought he was taking something from her. She had no idea how much he had already given her. How much he gave her each time he touched her, kissed her, possessed her.
Lowering his head, he ground his lips against hers, taking the parted curves and tasting her with his tongue. Stroking it against hers, he groaned into the kiss as he fought to pull back just a little bit, just enough to catch his breath, to hold on to his senses. There was no holding on to his senses around Mikayla, though. Hell, he could barely remember his name as her hands locked in his hair. As she held him to her, her lips nipped at his first as she fought to take control of the kiss. It was a move that sent pure 189
electric pleasure screaming across his nerve endings.
She was becoming a challenge he couldn't walk away from. Just when he thought he had a handle on her, just when he thought he could control her, she turned the tables on him.
She kept him on his toes, and that was the most dangerous thing she could do. It was the most effective way to steal her way into his heart.
It was that defiance in the face of all odds. Odds that said she was going to get her way. The challenge, the feminine determination to be a part of him, to hold him to her. To lock his soul to her own. And despite every defense he'd ever built against having a woman in his life, she was doing it.
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