Gray stepped off the curb, but hopped back when a long, black limo with blacked out windows almost hit him.  The brake lights flickered as the driver slowed even more. 

When the car finally passed him, he stepped off the curb and walked across the street.  He just couldn’t bear watching her walk inside that building.  Gray would find a place for her to stay tonight, and he’d make damned sure she had a place when she came back to town after her training.

“Michaela…” he said, dropping his hand on her shoulder.

She gasped and her body tensed.  Gray’s only warning was a clanking whoosh and a quick black flash before her handbag connected with the side of his head.  A gong-like sound echoed in his skull as he staggered back with stars dancing in his line of vision. 

He slumped against the brick wall, holding his throbbing jaw as he ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still in place.

“Oh, God—I’m so sorry!” she screeched as she walked up to him.  “You scared me.”  Her look of horror turned to anger when their eyes met.  “But it’s your own fault for following me. Why are you following me?”

Gray wished he had an answer to that question himself.  “Why are you staying at a homeless shelter?” he shot back, rubbing his aching jaw.

“I’m not, I’m, ah—visiting a friend,” she replied, her cheeks flushing.

“The same friends you’re staying with?” he volleyed, knowing a lie when he heard one.

“What business is it of yours?” she demanded, putting her hand on her hip.

“It’s my business because I need to make sure you’re a good fit for our office.  Right now, considering your penchant for lying and assault, I’d say I have reason to be concerned.”

Her face fell, and her hazel eyes filled with angry tears.   “If having you in my business is a requirement of the job, then I don’t want it,” she replied, lifting her chin.

“But you need it,” he countered, pushing off of the dirty brick wall to take her arm.  He nodded his chin toward the shelter.  “Come back to the hotel with me and I’ll get you a room.  Is there anything you need to get from inside?”

“No, and I’m not a charity case!” She yanked her arm away from him.  “I’m just…down on my luck right now, which I’m sure you wouldn’t understand, Mr. Armani.” Her lips curled as her eyes tracked down his suit to his Italian leather loafers.

“Why are you down and out, Michaela?” he asked, his heart twisting again.  “What’s going on here?  If you tell me, I can help you.” 

Why he cared or wanted to help her was beyond him, but he did.  He suspected he was feeling right now how Lou Ellen felt when she hired her.  The stray puppy syndrome.

Her lips puckered and her face flushed.  “It’s a personal family matter.”

“Family doesn’t let their members sleep in homeless shelters, Jersey.  Why are you really in DC, Michaela, and what kind of trouble are you in?” Gray demanded.

A strange popping noise distracted him right as the window at the front of the shelter exploded. Gray grabbed Mickie’s arm and shielded her from the flying glass as he pulled her against his body and hustled her into the alley next to the building.  His heart raced as he dragged her toward the other end of the alley. 

Another pop sounded and he flinched as a bullet ricocheted off the brick wall beside his head, sending mortar dust raining down.   He hadn’t carried a weapon in five years, but right now he’d give his left nut to have a pistol with him.

“Oh, God…I’m so sorry,” she whispered as he stopped outside of the alley to lean against the brick wall to look back.  His breath came out in a rush when he saw it was clear.  Grabbing her arm, he rushed her across the street toward a bookstore then pulled her into the dark alley on the left side of the building.

“What are you sorry for, Michaela?  Why are we being shot at?” Gray demanded, gripping her shoulders to turn her and put her back to the wall.

“I have no idea why we’re being shot at,” she replied, her eyes filling.  “I can’t give them answers if I’m dead, so it makes no sense for them to kill me.”

“Them who?” Gray pressed, his fingers digging into the soft shoulder pads of her suit.

“The mob. I owe them money…or my uncle did.” Her chin dropped and his insides froze. 

Gray’s hands fell from her shoulders and he stepped back.  He opened his mouth to demand the whole story, but heard an engine roar and took her arm again.

“We have to keep moving!” He towed her with him as he jogged toward the dumpster at the end of the alley.  Putting his hands at her small waist, he hefted her up to sit on top of the dumpster then hoisted himself up on top with her.  “I’m going over the fence, then I’ll help you,” he said, scrambling to his feet.

Unbuttoning his suit coat, Gray put one leg over the top of the fence, sat on the rail, then threw his other leg over.  As he slid his butt off the rail, he heard a loud rip and cursed as he lowered himself to the ground.  She owed him a thousand dollars, he thought, as he looked up to find her sitting on the rail.

“Throw that weapon down first,” he said, and she looked confused.  Gray nodded at the purse which she had strung over her neck and clutched tightly to her side. 

“Oh, my bag.” With a twist of her lips, she pulled the strap over her head and dropped the bag to the ground with a clattering thunk. 

Gray reached up to grab her waist and she put her hands on his shoulders. When he eased her down to her feet, she winced, leaned against the fence and bent her leg at the knee to inspect her right foot. 

“Did you get glass in your feet?” he asked, his eyes going to her tiny, bare foot.

“Yes, and I’ll probably get gangrene because who knows what’s on that street and in those alleys you dragged me through.” She picked a piece of glass out of the pad of her foot near her big toe and another in her heel, which must’ve been deeper because it earned a pained hiss.

“Where are your shoes?” he asked, looking at her purse.  Everything else she owned seemed to be in there, so maybe her shoes were too.

“I dropped them in front of the shelter,” she replied, balancing her foot on the heel as she bent to reach for her bag, but Gray beat her to it. 

He picked it up and unzipped it, then thought better about digging inside, so he shoved it into her chest.  He’d leave that to her, because he wouldn’t be surprised to find a bear trap inside. 

To his surprise, she quickly found a tissue and pressed it to her foot.  Shrill police sirens woke him up and apparently Michaela too, because with a gasp, she quickly shoved the tissue back into her purse. 

“We need to get out of here,” she said, her body shaking as she slung the purse strap over her shoulder.  She took a limping step, whimpered, then stopped.  Gray wondered if she was shaking from fear of the bad guys finding them, or the police.  As soon as they were somewhere safe, she was going to answer that question for him.

The bag, which probably weighed as much as she did, slipped down her shoulder and she pushed it back up.  After a deep inhale, she stiffened her shoulders and took another step.  Gray did not miss the choked moan when she took a second step.  With a curse under his breath, he strode to her and leaned down. 

“Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed, as he bent to slide his arm behind her knees and lift her into his arms.  She squirmed and he shot her a hot glare.  “Be still or more than your feet will be hurting when I drop you.”  Her eyes widened and she frowned, but stopped wiggling.

“I don’t need you to carry me. I can walk,” she grated, stiffening her body so he had to tighten his arms to hold her. “And I certainly don’t need you telling me what to do and ma—man—manhandling me.”  

“Well, Jersey, considering our situation, I don’t need you slowing us down.  We need to get out of here, so just cooperate if you want to stay alive,” he replied.  Her attitude-ridden gaze scorched the side of his face as he started walking toward the hotel. 

Gray kept to the service area behind the row of stores to remain hidden from anyone driving by on the street.  After a few blocks, the fence row ended, and his muscles strained as his eyes snagged on faded lettering on the brick wall that identified the store there as a pawn shop. 

He stopped, eased her down to her feet and rubbed the burn from his right bicep.  Leaning around the corner, he looked into the alley.  It was clear except for a dumpster against the wall surrounded by extra bags of trash, so he pulled her into the alley.

“Where are you going?” Mickie asked anxiously.

“I’m going to buy a pistol,” Gray informed, huffing a breath as he swiped at the sweat on his forehead with his wrist. 

At least then he’d be able to defend them then if the mobsters caught up to them.  Her chin dropped and her eyes narrowed, which told Gray he was in for a fight.  The look she wore bore a striking resemblance to a Lou Ellen look if he’d ever seen one.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” she said, tugging the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder.  “I don’t have a pistol, so if they show up while you’re gone, I’m a dead duck.”

“I can’t just carry you into the pawn shop,” Gray insisted, his frustration building.  “And we don’t have time for me to stand here arguing either, or they will find us.”

“I don’t need you to carry me, I can walk,” she insisted, stiffening her spine.

He lifted a brow.  “What about gangrene?”

“I have to die from something and I’d rather it be that than being shot.”  She shrugged, and lifted a brow.  “There’s a dollar store down the street where I can buy antiseptic, Band Aids, ointment, and shoes.”

“You don’t have any money,” Gray reminded with a sigh.

“Well, unless you want to carry me all the way back to the hotel, you’ll pull out your big, fat wallet and buy me some shoes, Mr. Armani.” Her beautiful head danced on her neck like a bobblehead doll while her hands conducted a symphony with her words.  She pointed to the end of the alley.  “I’m going to wait right there for you while you go into the pawn shop, then you are going with me to the dollar store to buy some shoes.  Capisce?” 

The way she inflected that word made him wonder if he was dealing with a female version of Al Pacino in the Godfather.  He felt like he was in an episode of that movie at the moment for sure.

No, what he was dealing with here was a petite, Italian Lou Ellen. 

And Gray must be a masochist, because he couldn’t say he didn’t like it.  Having dealt with their crotchety, but loveable, office manager long enough, Gray knew the only acceptable response to his marching orders too.  The answer which would assure he didn’t get a second helping of her handbag upside his head, or leave them arguing for an hour in this alleyway. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he acquiesced with a heavy sigh. 

She tiptoed to lay her hand on his cheek and stroke his beard stubble with her thumb, which sent tingles dancing along his jawline. 

“Good answer.” She smiled and gave him a saucy wink, then patted his cheek. “Now, hurry up so we can get out of here.”

What in the hell had Lou Ellen gotten him into?