Wild Card (7 page)

hold on to anything."

Dammit to hell. She hated the thought of having Toby call the sheriff. There would be

questions and paperwork and she didn't have time for this crap.

"'But he didn't, Mike. And this flaky blonde is working as fast as she can." She was aware of

the mechanics gathering behind her and wanted to groan in frustration. She didn't need this.

"I'll have your truck first thing in the morning. I have tonight, according to the contract. I'll be on time." She couldn't afford not to be.

His bloodshot brown eyes raked over her insultingly. "He married him a piece of flashy pussy,

I have to give him that."

Sabella's eyes narrowed as she tensed and ground her teeth to hold back a retort. This was

going to be bad enough once gossip circulated. She didn't need to make it worse, she reminded

herself.

"Mr. Conrad, Ms. Malone said in the morning." Toby stepped to her side, his voice vibrating

with anger at the insult. "It will be ready."

Mike's gaze whipped to the boy as his lips titled in a snide little smile.

"You fuckin' her too, kid? Piece of prime pussy like that needs a—" He never finished what he

had to say, and not because Toby jumped for him.

Before the younger man could cover the three feet of distance a shadowed blur moved past

them. Mike Conrad was jerked off his feet and literally thrown from the garage.

Sabella stared in shock at the stranger, Noah, seeing the fury pulsing in his face as he picked

Mike up from the blacktop only to toss him against the convertible BMW he had driven into

the lot.

One big hand latched around Mike's bulging neck and, icy cold, murderously, Noah Blake

began to squeeze.

"Stop." Sabella forced herself to move, to run to the pair, her hands locking around Noah's

wrist as she stared into those cold, merciless eyes in horror. "You'll kill him. He's just drunk.

Damn you, I said stop!"

Rage glittered in the dark blue depths, the promise of death shadowing and darkening the

unusual color as his fingers tightened further, his lips twisting into a snarling grimace.

"Have you lost your mind?" She jerked at his wrist, screaming at him, desperate now as she

heard Mike strangling behind her.

Sabella glared up at the stranger, seeing the predatory promise of death in his eyes as he stared

down at Mike Conrad.

"Touch her again." His voice was a gravelly sound of rage as he stared into Mike's eyes. "And I'll kill you."

She felt his wrist relax as she saw the rage darken the brilliance of his gaze as it locked with

hers. A muscle pounded heavily at his jaw as his lips flattened, his eyes flicking over her

shoulder as Mike groaned heavily. The sound of Mike collapsing in the car was easily heard in

the silence of the parking lot.

"Rory said the apartment over the garage was available." His voice was guttural, low. "I'll store my gear and finish this bastard's truck myself or I can kill him now. Your choice."

And he meant it.

Sabella shook her head in confusion as the BMW started up behind her. the tires screaming on

its exit from the lot.

"Why?" she finally whispered, her voice hoarse as she tried to make sense of it all. Why this,

why now? Why had fate thrown someone in her path guaranteed to destroy her, just when she

was finally rebuilding her life?

"Choose."

She released his wrist, realizing she was still gripping it with a strength she hadn't known she

was capable of.

Finger by finger, she forced herself to let him go. She couldn't answer him, she couldn't choose,

but when she got her hands on Rory she was going to kill him.

Ignoring the shocked and surprised faces around her, she turned and moved slowly back to the

garage. She had a job to do. she couldn't, she wouldn't, let this interfere.

She didn't need this.

She sat back down on the creeper and let it roll her back beneath the car she had been working

on. A few more little tweaks and it should be finished. Just a little bit more.

She picked up the wrench on the cement floor beside her and went to work. If tears rolled from

the comers of her eyes and into her hair, then she ignored them. If the pain tightened her chest

until it felt as though her heart were being ripped apart, then she ignored it.

Today, there was work to be done. When everyone else was gone, she'd pay Noah Blake for the

day and send him on his way. It would hurt. She needed the money and the bank payment was

due next week. If she had to, if there was no other choice, then she would sell some more of the

jewelry her mother had left her to cover the rest of the payment.

One thing was for sure. Noah was going to have to go. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't

handle her instant response to him, and she couldn't handle the conflicting emotions that raged

through her at the sight of him. There was something familiar and yet something too dangerous

about him for her to get a handle on. Something about him that had made her feel again.

Something more than the regret she had resigned herself to three years before. She had finished

grieving three years ago; sometimes, now, she just regretted.

She didn't notice the sob that tore from her chest at the thought, but the man standing by the car

heard it. Heard it, and hated it.

Noah could still feel the rage coursing through him, burning through his mind like a haze of

red. The sight of Mike, the sound of him, the vicious words that had poured from his lips when

he spoke to Sabella. Noah had lost his mind. Even now, he wanted the other man dead. A

lifetime of history, of friendship, was over that quickly. As far Noah was concerned, Mike was

living on borrowed time.

He glanced down at the ground, and the sight of Sabella's legs bent, feet braced on the floor,

knees raised against the fender of the car, sent another sort of fury surging through him.

She had no business under there. No matter how damned sexy she looked with her jeans

stained with oil and a smear of it on her chin and her cheek.

She was killing herself. Noah hadn't missed the dark circles under her eyes, the weight she had

lost, the haunted depths of her misty gray eyes. This wasn't the woman he had left behind.

There was no makeup on her surprisingly youthful face, her once honey-streaked light blond

hair was a mix of burnished golds and dark blond now. He hadn't even known she colored it.

How had he not known that his wife dyed her hair?

He brought to mind the memory of her naked body. How he had loved her body, curvy and

warm, fitting against him perfectly. The bare soft flesh between her thighs had been devoid of

curls, so he'd had no idea what the natural color should be.

And God, she looked young. The makeup she had worn had made her look older, more

experienced. He knew she had been eighteen when they married, and he was suddenly

desperately aware of how young she had really been.

At twenty-six, she still looked like a kid without the shield of cosmetics to add maturity to her

still unlined face. But the grief was there. It was thick and dark in her eyes, in the tightly

controlled line of her lips, the stiff set of her shoulders before she disappeared beneath the car.

He drew in a deep hard breath as the mechanics stared back at him, watching him as Sabella

disappeared beneath the car. Their expressions were wary, part relief, part concern. They

weren't the same men who had worked here when he left, they were unknowns and unknowns

were always the enemy. And he would never forget that only one, the youngest, had stepped

forward to protect Sabella while the others stood back.

"She's not alone anymore," he growled, knowing the fury that roughened his voice now. "Get your asses in there and finish the work now, or get your stuff and get out. I want every vehicle

in that damned bay finished before any of you go home tonight, or the only one I want to see in

the morning is this one." He stabbed his finger imperiously toward Toby. "And your ass

belongs in the office, if I'm not mistaken."

Toby swallowed tightly, his brown eyes flickering in indecision toward the garage where

Sabella had disappeared. It was obvious he was more concerned about leaving her undefended

than he was about his job.

"Go, boy," he snarled. "We'll discuss details later." His gaze swung to the other men, watching as they shifted nervously, their oil-streaked expressions and wary eyes staying trained on him.

"Make your choice now," he snapped. "And make sure you make the right one."

He didn't wait for their decisions. He made for the garage, striding straight to the line of

clipboards on the workstation and grabbing the first one. It was time to get to work.

He wasn't fooling himself; after the others had left, Sabella would let that temper he knew she

had, erupt. He'd only seen it once before in their marriage. The day he had made the mistake of

telling her she couldn't do something.

She had taught him fast and hard exactly what happened when he tried to control her.

Control came naturally to SEALs. It was a part of who they were and what made them so

efficient. So it wasn't unexpected that the night she had arranged to meet some of her

girlfriends for drinks and dinner, he had told her she couldn't go. He wanted her home with

him. He'd been horny, and he wanted his wife. He didn't want her at the local watering hole

together with a bunch of women and the men there lusting after her.

She'd stared back at him silently for long moments then continued to inform him where she

would be and when she would be home.

Dammit, Bella, you can stay home tonight. With me.

He'd barely ducked in time to miss the salt shaker that had been aimed a little too close to his

head. Then his sweet, soft-spoken little Southern angel had erupted.

Flushed, furious, she had proceeded to lay down the law regarding their relationship, and by

time she stalked out of the house, ass twitching beneath her jeans like an enraged little hen, he'd

had his tail tucked between his legs despite the fact that he had informed her to just stay the

night with her damned friends. He'd be fine without her.

Two o'clock that morning, he'd driven around town until he found her car, parked at the house

of one of those friends. He'd carried his tipsy little wife out of the house, put her in his track,

and driven her home. And he'd never made that mistake again.

And now, after hearing that muted, smothered little sound from beneath the car, coming from

the woman he wondered if he had even known as his wife, he realized that there was a chance

Sabella had held as much back from him as he had held back from her.

Because he hadn't had nearly enough of her before he had "died." He hadn't touched her in the

ways he'd wanted to, even then. The darkness that filled him had always been waiting for an

outlet, he realized. And now it was focused on one, tiny, too independent little woman. A

woman who deserved far better than she was about to get.

It was closing on seven that evening, the brilliance of the sun was fading and easing over the

mountains as the mechanics left, staring back at Noah, as though afraid to leave her there with

him.

At least the sheriff hadn't shown up, which meant Mike wasn't pressing charges. Yet. His truck

had been delivered to the bank while he was still there, and if luck was on her side, she

wouldn't have to deal with him again for a while.

Noah Blake, on the other hand, she was more than ready to deal with. The blood had pumped

furiously through her veins all day, leaving her nerves heightened, a feeling almost like

excitement digging sharp claws into her chest.

He had worked hard, steadily, and kept the other men working faster. But she didn't need him

there. She didn't want him there. She didn't need him interfering with the structured, ordered

existence she had created for herself. And she didn't want the excitement or the feeling of

tension she could feel tightening inside her.

The men working for her would accept taking orders from her eventually or she would do as

she had done the past three years. Fire their asses and hire others. She'd fired plenty of them

since taking over, another here and there didn't make a difference to her.

Toby delayed as long as he could until Sabella had to push him out the door before turning to

face Noah. She jerked the money bag from the desk and shoved it in her purse before slinging

the leather bag over her shoulder and glaring back at him.

This was it. He could get the hell right back out of her life now and she could stop feeling so

alive
.

"When you see Rory, tell him I want to talk to him. Immediately," she snapped. "And if he isn't back to work tomorrow, then as far as I'm concerned he doesn't have a job any more than you

have one. I won't have a maniac working in my garage and attacking my customers." She held

a hand up as he started to speak. "Whether they deserve it or not."

He stared back at her, his eyes raging, wild, twisting with color in an expression that could

have been carved from stone.

His gaze flicked over her body and she flushed. She could feel her own hardened nipples

beneath her shirt and bra. She could feel the flesh between her thighs tingling and she hated it.

She hated feeling that and she hated him for making her feel it.

Her gaze flickered to the parking lot as a vehicle pulled up and she almost grimaced. She'd