Sweet Temptation (Sweet #4)(12)

It was a stone-cold lie, and they both knew it. Micah closed his eyes and shook his head.

“How did she know, Damon? How the hell did she know that I’d respond to her bound and naked, begging for the kiss of the whip?”

“I’d say she knows a lot more about you than you do about her.”

“No shit,” he muttered. “Tell me where I can find her, Damon. You sure as hell wouldn’t let me get away with not telling you something where Serena is concerned.”

Damon scowled, and Micah knew he’d scored a hit.

“Hell,” Damon bit out.

“Tell me,” Micah persisted.

Damon sighed and opened his laptop. “I can only give you whatever she put on her application. Don’t ask for anything else. I won’t give it.”

Micah shrugged. As long as he found her, she could damn well tell him the rest.

After a few moments of clicking, Damon raised his head. “She’s staying at the Starlight Motel. No address given.”

“Never heard of it,” Micah said with a frown as he rose. “Thanks, though. I’ll call 411 to get the address on my way out.”

“Hey, Micah,” Damon said when Micah was almost to the door.

Micah paused and turned around.

“Take it easy. Don’t go in with both barrels blazing, okay?”

Micah gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

CHAPTER 6

Just when he thought he couldn’t get any more pissed off, Micah pulled into the parking lot of the Starlight Motel and stared in disgust at the run-down four-story building. He’d thought the directions were bogus when he entered the seedy, dangerous-looking area. Or at least he’d hoped they were.

He slammed the truck door shut and stalked toward the motel office, noting more than one broken pane on the windows of the rooms. What the hell did she think she was doing staying in a place like this?

The clerk at the desk gave him a bored look when Micah entered.

“Angelina Moyano,” Micah said tersely. “Which room?”

The clerk didn’t so much as blink or attempt to move from his slouched position in his chair.

“Don’t have anyone here by that name.”

“How the hell would you know?” Micah demanded. “You haven’t even looked.”

The clerk raised a paper cup and spit a stream of tobacco into it. “Hotel ain’t full. I’d know if someone by that name was booked in here.”

Micah held his temper in check. Barely. “Curvy Hispanic girl. Long, dark hair. Very pretty. Brown eyes. About this tall.” He held out a hand and indicated a height that came to his shoulder.

“Room 417.”

Micah couldn’t decide whether to be glad the punk had offered up the information so readily, or to reach across the counter, yank him up by his shirt and beat the living hell out of him.

But since Angelina wasn’t spending another minute in this dump, he wouldn’t worry about the potential danger she faced.

Not surprisingly, there was an out-of-service sign on the elevator. Muttering under his breath, he climbed four flights of stairs. Finally at Angelina’s door, he paused and stared at the flimsy frame. A good stiff wind would blow it down.

He knocked and waited, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. Several long seconds passed. He couldn’t fault her for not answering; in fact, if she’d blindly answered the door, he’d have tanned her little ass.

He stepped forward and knocked again. “Angelina, open the door,” he called.

He relaxed when he heard the dead bolt flip. The door creaked open, and he was met with a pair of dark eyes peering out of the two-inch crack.

“Micah?”

“Yeah, Angel, it’s me.”

Relief flashed in her eyes as she opened the door wider. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?”

He shoved in past her, taking in the tiny room. “Don’t act so surprised. You had to know I’d find you after your disappearing act last night.”

She closed the door and turned around to face him. “By all means, come on in.”

Against his better judgment, he let his gaze drop down her body. Damn it all to hell, when had she developed such a killer body? He shook his head and focused somewhere else. Anywhere but on her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. “This place isn’t fit for rats, for God’s sake.”

She shrugged, a tiny, delicate motion that drew attention to the slim column of her neck. “It was what I could afford.”

“Pack your things. We’re getting out of here.”

When she didn’t move to comply with his order, he went to the bed where her suitcase was opened and things were lying in neat little piles to the side. He tossed everything in the suitcase then looked around to see if there was anything else he’d missed.

Angelina was watching him through narrowed lids, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Not that I don’t love having the busywork done for me, but would you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing?”

“I’d think it was obvious. Getting you the hell out of here.”

She dropped her arms and took a step toward him, which had him hastily backing up. God, he was acting like a first-rate pu**y, but if she touched him, he couldn’t be responsible for what happened.