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God, how she had loved him. His laughter, his voice, his big body and his temper.
She forced herself to breathe through the memories, to place one foot in front of the other and to walk away from her response to the man who uncovered those memories within her.
“Belle Malone.” A furious male voice sliced through her thoughts as she headed for the sedan she had been working on earlier, bringing her to a stop as she turned slowly toward the open garage doors and bit back a curse.
Ladies didn’t cuss, she reminded herself. No matter the provocation. And she was being provoked. God, why hadn’t she just stayed in bed this morning? Mike Conrad was a bull of a man. He’d been one of her husband’s friends, but now he was becoming a pain in her ass.
“Mike, we’re working on it.” She lifted her hand in greeting, praying he hadn’t been drinking. “I’ll have it ready in the morning.”
“That’s what that little bastard Rory has said for two weeks.” He stalked into the bay, ignoring the sign that warned customers to stay behind the dingy yellow line. “You said two weeks, no more.”
Sabella bit her tongue and reminded herself she couldn’t afford to piss him off too much. His bank held the note on the garage and on the house, and he had threatened more than once to make sure they foreclosed if she missed so much as the first payment.
Thinning blond hair was cut short, almost buzzed. Weak brown eyes were watering and bloodshot from liquor and his bloated, reddened face was twisted in rage. Great. She needed this like she needed the behemoth standing in her office right now.
“I still have today, Mike.” She pulled on patience she didn’t have. She couldn’t afford to piss him off; he could make paying off that loan incredibly difficult. Besides, he had been Nathan’s friend.
Kinda.
“Like hell.” His voice was surly, his broad, pitted face flushed ruddy red, as he neared her and the smell of liquor hit her in the face. “You finish that truck now, bitch, or you can kiss this business goodbye, you hear me? Wouldn’t Nathan be damned proud of your sassy little ass then? This garage was his pride and joy.”
Mike had definitely been drinking and his mood was as foul as any she had ever seen.
“Nathan is gone, Mike,” she reminded him, fighting for the calm she swore she wouldn’t lose. Mike had always seemed to blame her for Nathan’s death, for some reason. “How he would feel is beside the point.”
She drew herself stiffly erect, knowing her diminutive five-five frame had nothing on his six feet. He was stocky, his paunch had grown over the years, but the man Nathan had once called a friend had let the bottle and his own failures destroy him faster than her own pain had nearly destroyed the garage.
“Nathan should have kicked your ass out and put his place in dependable hands before he screwed up and got his ass blown away.” The cruel words struck at her heart, no matter how she fought to ignore them. “He should have known better than to trust a flaky little blonde to 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.”
