by Mia Carson
Light-headed, her heart pounding and legs still shaky, Mia pushed through the crowd and hit the front door hard. Air. She needed fresh air and a chance to make a plan. She couldn’t go home and she couldn’t go to Gina’s. She was at a dead end. A taxi would be a start, and a motel for the night.
“Huh,” she muttered as her duffel fell to the sidewalk. “That’s not good.” Everything spun around her and went dark as she took a nose dive towards the pavement.
Max heard the arguing from across the pub, but by the time he stood up to see if Jeremy was in the middle of it, the woman was trying to get away and the man wouldn’t let her go. Grumbling about dumbasses ruining his chance for finding a potential fake wife, he walked over to tell the guy to leave the woman alone. The second he saw the fear in her eyes, he knew this was not just a simple misunderstanding.
He stood in the pub, watching her stumble for the door, and took a deep breath.
“Don’t do it, man,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t fucking do it.”
He was not about to get involved with some woman who probably had more issues than he did, but her legs shook as she walked to the door and the idea of leaving her alone in that condition ate at him until he was moving for the door to go after her. He prayed she wasn’t going to cry all over him. He hated crying, hated sad people, hated dealing with drama, but as he hesitated before going out the door, he replayed their short exchange. She had looked at him, stared actually, but her gaze never drifted to the scar. Not once.
The chill evening air hit Max in the face as he scanned the sidewalk, shoving his hair out of his face, and spotted her baseball cap near the curb. He opened his mouth to call out to her when her duffle hit the ground and her knees buckled.
“Shit,” he snapped and lunged forward, catching her as she fell to the ground, cradling her in his lap. “You are going to be trouble.”
She was out, lying limply in his arms, her hair splayed out over his bare skin as he held her.
“Hey, man, I wondered where you went,” Jeremy called out and his eyes widened as they fell on Max and the woman. “Uh… what the hell did I miss? I just went to take a piss and I find you out here with a woman in your lap. Are you desperate enough to start knocking them over the head?”
Max hefted the woman up higher in his lap. “Long story, man. Just grab her duffle and bring the car around, would you?”
“You’re taking her home? Is she drunk?” Jeremy asked as Max tossed him the keys.
“No, she was being harassed by some fucker in there and I broke it up, but… something else is going on with her,” he said and smoothed her hair back from her face gently, wishing she would open her damn eyes and look at him. “I came out here to check on her and she passed out.”
“Should we call someone?”
Max shook his head, remembering what she’d said about not having anyone. “She can crash in the guest room. Do you mind staying over tonight, too?”
Jeremy clapped his hands and jumped up and down. “Oh, a slumber party! I didn’t pack the right shoes.”
“And you wonder why you don’t have a boyfriend yet,” Max muttered. “Car, please?”
“Right, on it,” he said and ran down the sidewalk.
Max considered hoisting the woman up and trying to wake her, but she was so peaceful with her head resting on his thigh. It was new to him, having a woman this close to his groin and not stirring anything in him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She was definitely filling him with a warmth that spread through his limbs. A few people passing asked if she was all right, and he told them politely she’d passed out and he was taking his friend home for the night.
“Bad breakup,” he whispered, and they all nodded in understanding, which only disgusted him more. This was why Jeremy was his only real friend. Everyone else was too fake, too easy to let things go, but at least he had one friend. The woman had said she had no one, and he wondered if that meant family or friends, or both. “Don’t worry, my grey-eyed beauty. You’ll be fine with us for a night,” he whispered to her.
His dark red challenger pulled up next to the curb, and Jeremy hopped out.
“Get her duffel in the trunk,” Max ordered.
Jeremy picked it up quickly and stowed it before coming back to help Max lift the woman into his arms. Jeremy tapped her cheeks gently while Max held her, but all she did was mumble under her breath and curl against Max’s chest. He froze, his hands holding her protectively, and stared quizzically down at her.
“Well, you did come here tonight to find a wife,” Jeremy reminded him quietly.
“I can’t marry someone who’s unconscious. I think that’s illegal.”
“Eh, depends on what state you’re in,” Jeremy teased. He opened the back door and Max gave himself a good shake, working at ignoring the sliver of want stabbing him in the gut. He lay the woman down, slid out of his jacket, and tucked it under her head as a pillow.
Jeremy slid into the passenger side as Max climbed in behind the wheel and took off for home.
“She is quite attractive,” Jeremy commented as the leather squeaked when he turned around and glanced over his shoulder. “Tiny spit of a thing, too.”
“Yeah, you should’ve seen her, though. She hit the man a few good times, and kneed him in his package too, I think,” Max smirked. “The girl’s got some fight in her.”
“You seem impressed by that fact.”
Max didn’t have to pull his eyes from the road to know Jeremy was staring intently at him. His hands shifted on the steering wheel as the three of them drove deeper into the city towards Max’s penthouse. “I am,” he uttered on a breath. “And I want to know what kind of man thinks he can send his friend to drag her back to him after a fight.”
Jeremy sighed. “You think she’s running from something?”
“Someone is more like it,” he said and checked her in the rearview mirror. “Fear—it was all over her face, man. But I don’t want to jump to conclusions. It could be nothing, maybe just a really bad spat.”
“So his friend threatens to drag her back to him, kicking and screaming? That reeks of abuse.”
“We won’t know anything until she wakes up. We’ll set her up in the guest room for the night, and in the morning, I’ll see if I can coax some answers out of her.”
Jeremy burst out laughing, slapping his thigh as Max reached over and whacked his arm. “I’m sorry, but you are not the smoothest man in the shed, buddy boy. Trust me. You might scare the poor thing half to death.”
Max gritted his teeth but didn’t argue. He was brash on his good days and vulgar on his bad. Most people were scared of him before he even opened his mouth, and usually, by then, they were running in the other direction—unless they were women after the sex and money. He was damn good in the sack, one of his better qualities, but afterwards, he wanted to be alone again. He turned into the parking garage below his building and glided into his spot with ease.
“Fine, you’re right,” he agreed, but when Jeremy opened the door, he gripped his friend’s arm. “She didn’t look at the scar. Didn’t say anything about it.”
“That’s good, right?” Jeremy glanced back at her and frowned. “Or maybe she’s half blind.”
“Fucking jackass, man,” Max snapped as his friend chortled. “Just grab her bag and get the elevator.”
Jeremy did as he was told, and Max maneuvered the woman carefully out of the back seat and scooped her into his arms. She fidgeted, her face scrunching, looking ready to fight, but her eyes never opened and she sagged in his arms. Max let out a shaky breath, kicked his car door closed, and carried the woman towards the waiting elevator.
They rode up in silence to the lobby, passing the man at the desk giving them a curious stare, but Jeremy, as always, pulled through. He waved to the man and hurried over, grinning and laughing as he talked to him about what had happened. By the time they reached the other elevator, the man was back to his football game playing on the small TV at his station. Th
ey reached the top floor, and Jeremy hurried ahead to unlock the door to the penthouse so Max could step inside and head straight for the guest room. Jeremy usually slept in there when he stayed over, but tonight he would bunk on the couch. Max laid her gently on the bed, expecting her to wake up, but she rolled onto her side, curled up in a ball, and when her breathing steadied, he backed out of the room. The door clicked closed and he leaned a hand against it, glaring at the floorboards.
What was he thinking? He was not the hero type and certainly not a knight in shining armor. He didn’t save people. He pissed them off and scared them away, but there he was with a woman in his penthouse who would probably wake up screaming, thinking she’d been kidnapped.
“Come on,” Jeremy said after he’d set the woman’s duffel on the floor in the living room. “I want to see if there’s anything in here that might tell us who she is, and then I’m getting you a drink.”
Max turned with a grunt, not sure if he should go through the duffel, but knowing her name would be nice. He sank onto the overstuffed couch that matched nothing else in his penthouse and unzipped the bag while Jeremy fumbled around in the kitchen. He hummed as he always did—some song from the latest casino shows, no doubt. He loved those damn things and always dragged Max with him. He said he should be there since he was the owner. He kept telling his friend to try out for one and be done with it, but every time, Jeremy would laugh and tell Max he would be lost without his assistant and best friend around to keep his head on straight.
“And remember,” he would always add, “I’m the only one who actually likes you.”
Max dug carefully through the bag, but it contained clothes, a few toiletries, and no wallet he could find. She probably still had it on her, and he couldn’t dig through her pockets while she slept. Waking up to that would be worse than simply waking up in a strange place.
“Drink,” Jeremy said and a highball glass appeared in his face.
“Whiskey?” he asked.
“Who do you think I am? It’s bourbon,” Jeremy corrected and sat beside him. “Anything useful?”
“Nope, not that I can see. Just the basics.” He set his drink down after taking a long sip and glanced towards the hallway. “Think we should call the cops?”
“No, not yet. Give her ‘til morning, and we’ll talk to her then.”
“And if she is running from someone? What am I supposed to do? I can’t be her savior. You know I don’t do well with people in general. I’m not… I’m not a nice guy,” he admitted roughly.
“Eh, we’ll figure it out then.” He leaned back and flipped on the TV. “But you know, if you aren’t a nice guy, then why did you save her from that asshole and pick her up off the street?”
Max scrunched his face. Why had he done that? There was no explanation, but come morning, he would have to figure out what the hell to do with the woman he’d rescued.
Keith chucked the kitchen chair across the room, which smashed into the wall. Carl took a few steps back from his friend. “So she’s gone?”
“I told you, that guy chased me off. No offense, but I ain’t going to jail for you.”
“You didn’t think to follow her? Stick around a bit longer?” Keith raged.
“No. That man could’ve eaten me alive. He was bigger than you.”
Keith stalked around the kitchen, passed by the counter, and took a swig from the whiskey bottle. “It’s fine, we’ll find her. She’s not going to run away from me that easily. Do you at least remember this man’s face?”
“Yeah, I do, but I don’t know how that’s going to help. Seattle’s a big city, you know.”
“Most people frequent the same places.” He opened his wallet and pulled out a few hundreds. “Every few nights, I want you back at that pub. See if you can find this guy again. I’m going to talk to a few of my other friends and let them know the situation.”’
Carl hesitated as he took the money. “Keith, maybe you should just let her go. I don’t think she loves you anymore.”
Keith grabbed him by his shirtfront and yanked him close. “She loves me. She will always love me. I’m going to marry Mia Destros, no matter what happens. She is mine and no one is going to keep her from me.” He shoved his friend back and yelled at him to get out of his house. He had plans to create, phone calls to make, and a woman to find. She thought she could run from him and he would just let her go? She had another thing coming, that was for sure.
The only person who might know where Mia was headed was Gina. First thing in the morning, he’d head over to the library and see if he could pry some answers from the old bat.
He’d get Mia back in his arms if it was the last thing he did. Angry and stressed about how this night had turned out, he pounded upstairs to the bedroom and opened the closet. He dragged down the box he’d originally bought for Mia, but he needed release and needed it now. Drawing out his cell, he dialed Alice and waited impatiently for her to answer.
“Don’t say another word. Get your ass over here, and the second you step inside, I expect you to be naked,” he growled and hung up. She would come. She couldn’t resist him. If only she could be Mia. He warred between her being so pure and staying that way as long as possible and breaking her in, shaping her the way he wanted. Once he found her and brought her home, they would have a nice long talk about what he expected to change, and she would see reason.
She would have no other choice.
4
Fear gripped Mia hard as she tossed and turned in her sleep before shooting awake and glaring into the predawn light spilling in from the windows. Her head ached and her hand shook as she stared around the unfamiliar room and swallowed the terror holding her tight in its clutches. What happened last night? She held her head with a groan and tried to remember… she was supposed to meet Carl… Carl, who had been sent by Keith to drag her back to him.
She leapt off the bed, rushing for the door, but this room… this wasn’t home. She hadn’t gone with Carl because she’d fought him off and someone stepped in. The man with the sharp blue eyes and the scar on his face. Her hand resting on the doorknob, she closed her eyes and forced her body to relax, breathing in deeply a few times as images came back to her: talking to the man, rushing out of the pub, standing on the curb. She was going to wave down a taxi, but everything went dark. Vaguely, she remembered images of lights washing over her from the back seat of a car… and being carried, maybe? Everything was a blur, but she couldn’t stay in this room forever.
Not sure what she was walking into, Mia opened the door a crack and squinted through the narrow gap. All she saw was a wall and part of what looked like a hallway. No sounds reached her ears, and after gathering her courage—or at least enough strength, she hoped, to sprint for the door—she opened the door and stepped out.
“Uh, hello?” she asked, but her voice cracked and she pressed her back to the wall, coughing quietly until she could manage a slightly louder volume. “Hey, I… uh, I have no idea where I am. Anyone… anyone home?”
Mia waited for a response, but there was nothing. Her heart pounding and hands clammy, she tiptoed farther down the hall until she reached a living area and open kitchen. The floor creaked loudly under her foot and a man shot upright on the couch. She yelped in alarm and sank back against the wall as he looked around, bleary eyed, squinting in her direction. His clothes were rumpled and his hair a right mess. Had she slept in his room? He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if he could even see her standing there.
“Um, hi?” she said tentatively.
“Oh, there you are! Sorry,” he mumbled through a yawn and shifted so he faced the table. “My contacts are in the bathroom. Let me snag my glasses.” He fumbled around in a jacket on the table and set a pair of black-rimmed glasses on his nose. “Ah, that’s better. Morning.”
“M-m-morning,” she stuttered and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I… uh, I guess I wound up here somehow last night.”
“Yes, quite a night it was, too,” he
said and pushed to his feet. “You look like you could use some coffee.” Humming, he moved to the kitchen and pulled out three mugs, set them on the counter, and glanced at her. “I don’t bite. You can come closer.”
Mia looked around for the door and spotted it, debating whether she should take off, but the man didn’t appear threatening. His smile was gentle and his eyes soft and filled with worry she’d honestly never witnessed in a man before. Swallowing her fear, she walked to the kitchen and sat on one of the barstools at the counter.
“Can you tell me what happened last night?” she asked after he popped a pod in the coffee maker.
“I should probably introduce myself first,” he said and held out a hand towards her over the counter. “I’m Jeremy Reider.”
Mia flinched at first when he extended his hand. His brow wrinkled, but if he questioned her response, he kept it to himself. “Mia,” she replied as she took his hand gently and shook it.
“No last name?”
“Not yet, sorry.” She had no idea who this man was. Had he been at the pub last night? She eyed the door again and he followed her gaze.
“You’re not being held here if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her face warmed, and she clasped her hands together on the counter, hoping that would stop them from shaking. “Good… that’s good to know. So, last night? I’m sorry, but I don’t remember seeing you. I remember the other guy, though…” His scarred face popped into her mind, and the fierce glimmer in his eyes after he stopped Carl from trying to take her. “Where is he?”
“This is his place,” Jeremy explained. “Sugar, cream?”
“A little of both, please,” she said, and he stirred them in before handing over the mug. The warmth from it radiated up her hands and through her arms but did little to melt the ice-cold fear hovering in her chest. “So who is he? Does he usually rescue damsels in distress and whisk them away to his fortress of solitude?”