Hearts on Fire 2: Michaela (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Hearts on Fire 2: Michaela
After surviving being shot in the chest, Michaela Smitt has moved to Treasure Town in hopes of remaining under the radar and out of sight of the man who wants to finish the job. But that’s not easy in a town comprised of first responders, especially when she seems to keep getting into trouble, needing their professional assistance.
First she meets the Sheriff, Jake McCurran, when she’s held by gunpoint in the sheriff’s department. Then at the station, she meets Billy and Hal McCurran, as they flirt and try to get to know her. Finally when her attic is on fire all three come to rescue her, but she’s resistant to their charms.
Three very sexy, charismatic brothers want to show her how wonderful a menage relationship can be, but she’s resistant, not only because of her hollow heart but also the bull's-eye on her forehead.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 54,854 words
HEARTS ON FIRE 2: MICHAELA
Dixie Lynn Dwyer
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
HEARTS ON FIRE 2: MICHAELA
Copyright © 2014 by Dixie Lynn Dwyer
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-578-1
First E-book Publication: April 2014
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Hearts on Fire 2: Michaela by Dixie Lynn Dwyer from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Dixie Lynn Dwyer’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Dwyer’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
www.SirenPublishing.com
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
Dear Readers,
Thank you for legally purchasing this copy of Hearts on Fire. As Treasure Town continues to grow, so do the stories of the community and the people who live there. Once a hidden location, a secret amongst the locals, Treasure Town and all its people are like no others. When someone is in need, or just needs a friend, there’s always someone there to offer. Michaela comes to this town with a heavy heart, a distrust of everyone, and a desire to survive, remain hidden, and avoid human contact. Her past hardens her heart and makes her question even good intentions. It takes the residents of Treasure Town and three very sexy, special men, who themselves have experienced betrayal and loss, to help her to trust again. May you enjoy her journey as a survivor, a self-empowered woman capable of loving and learning that no matter what life throws at you, each of us has the power, the inner strength, and determination to trudge on.
Happy reading,
Hugs!
~Dixie~
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
HEARTS ON FIRE 2: MICHAELA
DIXIE LYNN DWYER
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
“You think I won’t kill her? You think I can’t? I’ll fucking do it!” the guy who’d just grabbed Michaela yelled toward the deputies. His grip was tight around her midsection.
She cried out as he grabbed her and not one of the other women nearby. Like maybe the snappy secretary who kept batting her eyes at the officers walking in and out of the main area.
No, instead he chose Michaela. This was a damn police department. How the hell could something like this be happening here?
Michaela Smitt was amongst the civilians, not a cop, not working undercover. She was just trying to get the legal documentation to have an abandoned vehicle removed from the small house she’d just brought. There was no title, the owner was deceased and didn’t leave the car to anyone, but the tow truck company wouldn’t take the vehicle without clearance from the owner, or a title. She was told that the police could help, and she showed up by their request to sign some papers.
She’d only moved here a week ago. New Jersey by the shore was supposed to be peaceful. She was also trying to stay under the radar, which right now, Alonso, her good friend and detective working her case back in New York, would not be too happy with the situation.
Well shit, neither am I.
At least one good thing happened so far today. She interviewed for a job as a bartender for a local place in town that did a lot of business called The Station. The owner, Burt McCurran, hired her on the spot. He was a burly older man with an Irish brogue and a great sense of humor. He took a liking to her immediately. She should have stayed there and enjoyed an 11:00 a.m. drink with some of the patrons.
She didn’t need the job, but she needed to work to keep her mind off of New York, and the fact that she nearly died. Now here she was being held by gunpoint as she waited for the damn sheriff to arrive because the snotty secretary said he had updated information on the owner of the vehicle. It was another problem that would hold her up from getting the hunk of junk out of her driveway.
With the barrel of a gun pointed at her, for the second time in six months
, Michaela was feeling like surviving was just temporary, and now she would meet her maker.
“You don’t want to do that, Leonard,” someone stated, and when Leonard turned her to the right, she locked gazes with a drop-dead, halt-in-your-tracks gorgeous man in uniform. He was tall, over six feet that would put her five feet five inches to shame. He had brown hair, some blonde streaks and a wide chest and shoulders that had him stepping through the doorway sideways. He even had to duck a little and perhaps her initial estimate of his height was short a few inches. He looked pissed off, and he was the only one not holding a gun. But his uniform was different than the other officers’. She stared at his gun, and it remained in the holster on his hip where his hands sat as if he casually planned on negotiating with the jerk holding her.
“I’m not going to jail, Sheriff,” the man said, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She cringed from the smell. He didn’t look like he was fully with it. She had noticed him standing next to a deputy the moment she was asked to sit and wait for the sheriff. The deputy had just uncuffed him as the man spoke with someone by another desk who was smiling and laughing. He obviously was pretending to cooperate.
“Let her go, Leonard, and we can go into my office and talk this through. There’s no reason to hurt anyone. You’ll regret it,” the sheriff said.
“They lie. They all lie. I didn’t do a thing wrong. I don’t belong here. I wasn’t bothering anyone.” Leonard had become agitated quickly. His grip on Michaela tightened, his hand moved higher and an inch more and he would be cupping her breast. As it was now, he was awfully close.
The sheriff must have read her thoughts as he squinted his eyes and appeared as if he were losing patience. “Release the woman and we’ll talk.”
“Fuck you!” Leonard yelled, pulling her backward and toward another room. Her low-heeled sandals scraped across the flooring as she gripped his forearm to stop from falling. She damned the stupid blouse and camisole she wore as it spread wider, by the man’s hold, giving a good view to all officers watching. She was not small up top by far, and could practically feel the cool air from the air-conditioned room hit the cleavage of her breasts. The skirt she wore fell just above her knees, but by the way he held her, she had to be showing off more thigh than she was comfortable with.
She swallowed hard as he hit the wall behind him and she nearly lost her footing. The sheriff and the deputies inched their way closer, but still kept a distance.
“Where are you gonna go, Leonard? There’s nowhere to go. Let’s talk about this.”
“No. There’s nothing to talk about. If you come closer, I’ll shoot her. I don’t care anymore.” But now his voice sounded shaky. It seemed to her that the man was out of his mind or even high on something besides alcohol. Not that she was an expert, but she had been shot before, trying to keep a relationship with her estranged sister.
Annette was dead because of some asshole who knew Annette’s boyfriend, Solomon. Solomon owed the asshole money. A lot of money. But she couldn’t think about that now. Instead she thought about the training she took after recovering from the bullet wound to her chest that nearly killed her.
Alonso was a self-defense trainer. He had helped her to try and get over her anxiety and fear of being assaulted again so she could return to her real home in Chicago. But nearly dying changed a person. So she cashed in on her investments, quit her job, sold her apartment and moved out here to New Jersey. It was a place that was supposed to be quiet, peaceful, and relaxing, with the benefits of ocean and beaches. That was when she started to feel angry. She promised herself that she would never be a victim again, and now if she had the opportunity, she would use one of those moves Alonso taught her to save herself. After all, she couldn’t trust anyone, not even this room filled with cops whose job was to protect and serve the public.
His hold suddenly got tighter, and now he was leaning his forehead against the back of her head, and inhaling deeply.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a rather calm tone, considering the intensity of the situation. Leonard, as the sheriff called him, seemed to be losing his composure.
He growled. “I fucking hate cops. I was having fun. I wasn’t bothering anyone. I like to party, do you?” he asked and then began to slowly rotate his hips against her ass. She tried pulling away and he raised the gun as the cops and sheriff yelled for her not to move.
“Don’t. Just remain still, miss. Leonard, you need to put down the gun and stop this. We don’t want anyone to get hurt, and I know you don’t want that either,” the sheriff said. He was a little closer now, and she could see how big and tall he really was. Plus, he had amazing blue eyes. He really was a very attractive man.
“Maybe I do want to make things worse. Maybe I’m pissed off and I want to blow off some steam.” Leonard antagonized the sheriff’s efforts to talk him into giving up the gun.
“I want you to drop the gun, Leonard. You were brought in on drunk driving and disorderly conduct. Now, don’t go turning this into a worse situation for yourself.”
He adjusted his hold on her, pressing his palm over her hip bone. She gasped as a small high pitch sound got caught in her throat. She was trying so hard to not have flashbacks. She even tried remembering Alonso’s instruction during training about keeping calm, and not making a move unless it was completely necessary. How would she know when making a move to get free was necessary? Right now, with him practically massaging her hip bone and pressing his privates against her ass, she felt it was necessary to get the hell away from Leonard.
“What do you think, darling? Do you think I should let you go and listen to the sheriff?” he whispered against her ear. His voice, his stench bothered her, made her think of New York, and of the thug who killed her sister. She could feel his body shaking. He was definitely on something and it seemed to be kicking in full force. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and she feared for her life as the gun he held near her neck shook as hard as his hand was shaking.
He pressed his palm down her thigh making her skirt lift. “Hey!” she yelled out.
He pressed the gun harder against her neck. She tilted her head back against his shoulder, and he maneuvered his hand down the side of her thigh and up the skirt.
“Stop touching her,” the sheriff yelled, and even she sensed his anger, his patience diminishing.
She took a deep breath as he showed off her bare thigh for all to see. Her breasts were definitely showing through the open blouse, and she panicked, afraid of what would happen next.
“I think you should let me go and give yourself up before you get hurt,” she told him.
He lowered the gun slightly so he could use that hand with the gun to push her blouse further open. He was staring at her breasts, licking his lips.
He chuckled. “Get hurt? By whom?” he asked as he slowly moved his other hand up her waist and cupped her breast. The man lost focus and she would use the opportunity.
The sheriff yelled out, the deputies were pointing their guns at him.
“By me.” She made her move.
Michaela maneuvered out of his hold, twisted his wrist around with one hand using a wrist control move Alonso taught her. She kneed him in the spine sending him down to his knees before taking his legs out from underneath him. She had the gun to the back of his head and him pinned to the ground with her straddling his legs, her skirt nearly up to her waist.
“Don’t move, Leonard, or we’ll see if this gun is loaded.”
The sheriff and the deputies were there in a flash, taking Leonard into custody as the sheriff helped her up.
She handed him the gun.
“What the hell did you think you were doing? You could have been killed,” he questioned as he held her upper arm and stared down at her chest and then her eyes.
This close, the sheriff was huge. She actually felt intimidated and tried taking a step back.
She pulled her arm free and then adjusted her blouse to cover her exposed flesh.
“I saw an opportunity and I took it before he could continue to molest me in front of an audience. Oh, and you’re welcome, Sheriff.”
She started walking away and noticed the other deputies looking her over and smiling. Some were shaking their heads as if they couldn’t believe what she just did. Then she heard his stern voice.
“Not so fast, miss. You were just involved in a hostage situation and I need some information from you.”
She turned to look at him.
“I was sitting here for over an hour waiting to be assisted. You can wait while I use a restroom and try to recover from what just went down. Then I’ll talk.” She stormed out of there hearing whistles at her temper, but she didn’t care. That damn sheriff was a jerk.
As she spotted the sign that indicated the right door, she pushed it open and headed inside.
She looked in the mirror and saw how red her cheeks were, and felt how fast her heart was racing. Now that it was over, she was coming down off the adrenaline rush and she began to physically shake.
She had let her anger, her frustration, and mostly her fear from the past make her decisions for her. She could have been killed if she hadn’t made that wrist control move so quickly. Michaela covered her mouth as she swallowed the cry that wanted to escape.
She wasn’t weak. She refused to have fear. She was alone in this world with no one but herself to count on, and that was the way it had to be.
* * * *
Sheriff Jake McCurran stood with his arms crossed, waiting outside of the ladies’ room. He was beside himself with shock at what just took place in his damn department. The deputy, a rookie, was being reprimanded by the sergeant while Jake waited to speak with the hostage. A woman he had surely never seen before and who also made quite the first impression.