Seeking Vengeance: Callaghan Brothers, Book 4 (2 page)

So far Sean hadn’t pushed because the kid was staying later to make up for lost time.  He sincerely hoped it wasn’t anything serious; he doubted he’d be able to pull enough strings to save the kid’s ass.  Even if he could, it wasn’t likely that Nick would be particularly receptive to any kind of help.  Nick had a hardness and pride about him that made Sean think he would see any offer of assistance as charity, and Nick Milligan did not strike him as the type to accept a handout.

Nick stared at him with those freaky light gray eyes – so devoid of color they resembled smoky diamonds. His long, straight black hair was currently tied back and kept out of his face with a Harley Davidson do-rag.  Tall, lean, built for speed, the kid cut a real bad boy look that drove girls wild and worried their fathers, and, from what Sean had heard, with good reason. 

Sean held his gaze.  It was Nick who blinked first.  The kid blew out a breath and leaned all of his weight on one leg.  “I haven’t been able to fix it.”

Sean raised an eyebrow and moved to the front of his desk.  He leaned back carefully, crossing substantially muscular arms over an equally substantial, muscular chest.  “That’s a first.  Want to tell me why?”  Taryn would be so proud of him – he hadn’t even raised his voice.

The kid had the good sense to look embarrassed, which mollified Sean somewhat.  The show of humility was a definite indication of progress. 

“Not enough time.  We’re swamped, boss.  I’m fixing the quick ones first, trying to keep things moving, but ...”

It was true enough.  They were down a mechanic and business was booming.  With three of his brothers now married, Sean was volunteering for more of the solo-type missions, so he wasn’t doing as much himself around the garage, either.  It was yet another reason why he was hoping to get the kid up to the next level – Sean wanted to feel confident that work would get done when he was away for a few days here and there.  As it was, things were backing up; they couldn’t keep up with the demand.  And the truth of it was that Nick
was
staying late nearly every night, trying to finish up what the others hadn’t been able to. 

“Let Tommy, Dave, and Joey handle the quick ones.  I need you on the Benz, got it?  Mick Thompson’s a good customer; he gives us a lot of business.”  He fixed Nick with a pointed stare.

Nick regarded him for a minute, then nodded without another word and returned to the bays.  Sean inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.  Message received.  No yelling.  And no one got fired.  He wasn’t quite ready to tell Taryn yet, though; he still had his doubts about the whole kinder, gentler management style thing.

––––––––

S
ean returned to the garage a little after nine that night, feeling more uneasy than ever.  None of the others (with the exception of his twin) seem to share his sense of foreboding, though they recognized his and respected it.  Sean felt an irrational compulsion to return to the garage, as if whatever was going to happen would happen there.

He wasn’t surprised to see lights on in the bay with the Benz, or to hear the screaming death-metal wailing from the Bose in the corner.  He’d known the Benz was going to be a real bugger, and had given it to Nick as something of a test. 

He was a little disappointed; he’d hoped Nick would pick up on the problem and be done with it by now, but hey, the guy was still learning.  It took Sean the better part of an afternoon the first time Mr. Thompson brought in a similar Benz years ago.  And something definitely had the kid’s attention elsewhere the last week or so.

The car was raised about two feet above floor level, light spilling out from beneath.  The familiar sound of metal on metal told him the kid was still working on it, but Sean smiled.  He was working in exactly the right place.

Sean turned to head into the public waiting area to grab a Coke from the vending machine before he rolled up his own sleeves and gave Nick a hand.  And walked right into Nick coming out of the waiting area with two cans, one in each hand.

The look on the kid’s face was priceless.  Classic deer in the headlights.  “Uh, boss, didn’t expect you back tonight.”

Yeah, no shit
. The warning prickle along the back of Sean’s neck was a strong one; the sense of foreboding reached a fever pitch. 

“Nick, who’s under the Benz?”  His voice was low, dangerous.  All of his employees knew that no one – absolutely no one – from outside was permitted in the work area.  The last thing he needed was someone getting hurt by being somewhere they had no business being.  It went hand in hand with the “nobody works alone in the garage” rule, the one Sean had been deliberately overlooking in Nick’s case.

Nick looked like he’d rather face a pit viper than tell him.  For all of his usual bad boy image, Nick was looking more than a little uncomfortable.  Of course, Sean’s natural badass persona tended to have that effect on most people, but until now Nick had proven to be relatively unaffected.

Which told Sean that whoever was under the car was
really
not supposed to be under there.

Without waiting for an answer, Sean walked over to the car and pounded on the side panel.  “Get the fuck out,” he growled as he yanked the Bose plug out of the wall.  A heavy thud beneath the car, followed by the sound of a wrench hitting the concrete, almost made him wince.  He wanted to scare the guy, not give him a concussion.

Sean placed himself before the front of the Benz, feet planted hip-width apart and arms crossed to provide maximum intimidation while fixing his patented lethal glare.  He blinked when the feet came out first.  Instead of sneakers or work boots, the feet were covered in black leather boots with silver chains.  And six inch spike heels.

Sean could feel the pressure in his jaw from where he ground his teeth together.  Nick was letting a girl under there?  A freaking
girl
?  He turned his glower on Nick, who was growing paler by the second.

Familiar-looking blue coveralls began to emerge from beneath the vehicle.  The boots were attached to legs that seemed to go on forever, followed by ample hips, lots of loose material around a probably small, flat waist, and, oh, sweet Jesus, breasts that filled out the coveralls better than he’d ever seen.

“What the fuck, Nick?” said a low female voice as the head emerged, a burgeoning telltale red mark on her forehead marring what was otherwise flawless skin the color of a white peach. 

Not a girl.  A woman.  The woman took one look at Nick and followed his gaze to Sean.  She should have been scared.  Terrified even.  She wasn’t.  Her eyes might have widened a little.  She might have run her tongue along her upper lip briefly.  But there was no fear.

“This your boss?” she asked, inclining her head toward Sean as she stood up.  The sky high stilettos put her mouth somewhere around neck level with Sean.   Nick nodded.

She smirked, and Sean’s balls tightened painfully.  At least now he knew the source of ominous foreboding he’d been experiencing.  Outside he remained calm, but inside, his body was in full-scale riot mode. 

“You’re right,” she said in that smoky, kitten voice.  “He does look like a total hard ass.”

Nick groaned and closed his eyes.  “Shut it, Nicki.”

“Excuse me,” Sean said, his voice even lower, deadlier than before.  “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Light gray eyes – identical to Nick’s – considered him briefly before totally disregarding him.  Sean was thunderstruck.  No one had ever ignored him so blatantly.  And certainly not a woman.

Instead, she looked at Nick and began unzipping the coveralls.  Within seconds she had revealed a voluptuous body poured into black leather pants and a matching lace-up black leather corset.  On her back was a wicked tattoo of a fallen angel, centered so that the wings just kissed her shoulder blades.  The flash of perfect flesh exposed between her low-slung pants and too-short top gave a teasing glimpse of some spiraling symbols that Sean ached to explore in greater detail with his tongue.  She wiped her hands on the coveralls and handed them to Nick.

“Benz is fixed.  Was a problem with the modulator.  Wrong size gap plug.  You’re good to go.”

Hands with long, elegant fingers and gloss black nails reached up to pull what looked like a pair of silver chopsticks from the top of her head.  Immediately volumes of shiny black hair fell, cascading over her shoulders and breasts.  With smooth grace she slipped the sticks – which Sean now saw were actually metal picks – into her knee-high black leather boots.  It was too much.  Sean felt like he was trapped in some kind of surreal dream.  No, not a dream.  A
fantasy
.

“Hold on there, sweetheart.  I’m not finished with you yet.” 

The woman regarded him for a moment, her lids half closed like a lazy panther, before she proceeded to walk right up to him, stopping when her body was only an inch or so from his.  Even with the six-inch spikes her eyes were barely level with his jaw line.  A dark, delicate fragrance assaulted him, sending pulsating images of hot, naked sex beneath a full moon in the middle of the woods through his brain. 

Without a trace of fear, she tilted her head up to look him in the eye.  Up close, her eyes were even freakier than Nick’s.  Crystal clear, multi-faceted like master-cut gems, appearing all that much lighter because of the black kohl outlining her upper and lower lids, framed in long thick lashes.  The angle of the tilt made her eyes appeared half closed, as if frozen in ecstasy.  She licked her lips, her very dark red glossy lips, the color of candy apples and just as shiny, the action slow and sensuous.

There were two things going through Sean’s mind simultaneously at that point.  One, this woman should be scared shitless, but she didn’t seem the least bit fazed.  And two, she was the hottest woman he’d ever seen.  As if to accentuate that point, his heart pounded in his chest and need clawed in his groin.  The electricity arcing between them had him harder than a steel rod.

* * *

S
o
this
was Nick’s boss, the infamous Sean Callaghan.  Nick talked enough about him, but nothing could have prepared her for meeting him in the flesh.  The guy screamed intensity and power, and radiated a raw sexuality that called to her most primitive instincts. 

Without conscious effort, she memorized every nuance of his facial and bone structure.  It was a skill she’d developed over the years, ensuring that should she encounter him again she would recognize him without fail, even if he attempted to change his appearance.  Not that she would be able to forget him easily.  His very presence commanded her absolute and undivided attention, which annoyed the hell out of her.  Nicki, like her brother, had a natural resistance to authority figures.

It was a hell of a presence for a simple mechanic.  Even as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it.  Sean Callaghan was no more a garden variety garage owner than she was a Sunday school teacher.  His countenance, the way he held himself, the silent arrogance – they all reeked of special forces training.  Marines.  Navy SEALs.  Black Ops, maybe.  But it all added up to the same thing: 
DANGER
.

His dark hair, cerulean blue eyes, and strong masculine features reminded her a lot of the guy who owned BodyWorks, the local fitness center.  The resemblance was eerie.  Brothers, most likely, she thought to herself.  The BodyWorks guy was younger, broader, but didn’t have the breath-stealing, bad-ass intensity of this guy.

All of this passed through her mind in a second, maybe two.  The bottom line – the sleepy little town of Pine Ridge had its share of secrets.  It was intriguing, but unless it had a direct correlation to her purpose, none of it mattered.  The best thing she could do was just stay the fuck out of his way. 

And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay the fuck out of hers. 

“But I am finished with you,
baby
,” she purred.  To further illustrate her point, her hand reached out and covered his crotch.  Oh yeah, this guy was made for hot, sweaty sex.  One side of her mouth curved upward with a knowing smile as her hand ran the length of him, cupping his balls firmly through his jeans.  “
Damn
.” 

“Nicki!” Nick said in a low, warning voice.

Her eyes flicked toward her brother, having momentarily forgotten he was there.  Her hand dropped away, and the smile was gone in an instant as she stepped back, all playfulness replaced by a mask of cold indifference. 

“My debt’s paid.  I’m outta here.”

“Nicki, wait –“

“Sorry, sweetie.  Can’t be late or the natives get restless.”  She tossed one more smoky glance Sean’s way.  “Nice package, by the way.”  She began to walk away, but didn’t get more than a step or two before Sean’s hand reached out and clamped around her wrist like a vice, stopping her in her tracks.

One corner of her mouth tilted up slightly, though her eyes flashed silvery fire.  “Oooh, I bet you like it rough, don’t you?” she smirked, her voice a husky growl. 

“Sean – Mr. Callaghan - please, let her go.”  Nick’s voice, laced with an edge of panic, cut through the tense silence.  “
Please
.” 

Nick’s boss narrowed his eyes, but released the grip on her wrist.  She reclaimed her hand and smiled, showing perfect white teeth.  “Later, Hardass.” 

Nicki Milligan walked – no
strutted
– out of Callaghan Auto like she owned it.  She paused just outside, letting the cool air drift over her bare shoulders.  Then she took a few steps to the left, out of the reach of the spotlights and into the shadows.  There she promptly collapsed against the side of the building, hands gripping her trembling knees while she gasped desperately for breath and fought the urge to cry.

She was used to dealing with dangerous, brutal men.  Her whole life had been an in-depth study.  But that was no ordinary man.  It had taken every ounce of courage she had not to run from the sheer intensity of those blue eyes.  But she’d learned a long time ago never to show fear; attitude was survival, and she planned on being around for a while yet.  With shaking legs, she mounted her cycle and kicked it into high gear, racing down the street as fast as her machine would take her.