Moonlight Sins

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Looks like it to me,” he replied as he focused on the ghastly white hands frozen in time.

  “There is very little he could do that would actually surprise me, but hanging himself?” Gabe lifted a hand, dragging his fingers through his hair. “That’s not his . . . style.”

  Luc had to agree. It would be very unlike Lawrence to do them a solid and leave them all in peace. “Maybe it’s the curse.”

  “Are you serious?” Gabe cursed under his breath. “You’re starting to sound like Livie.”

  The grin returned as he thought of their housekeeper. Mrs. Olivia Besson was like a second mother to them, as much a part of this house as the very walls and roofs, but the damn woman was as superstitious as sailors on a stormy night. The grin vanished like a dream.

  A heavy silence fell between them as they both found themselves staring at their father. It was Gabe who broke it, and he spoke quietly, almost as if he worried he’d be overheard. “I woke up before Dev called me. I thought I heard someone on the top level.”

  The damn air halted in Lucian’s throat.

  “I went up there, but . . .” His brother’s chest rose with a heavy breath. “You know what you planned to do tomorrow? You’re not going to be able to now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?” he repeated with a shocked laughed. “You can’t leave the state the very next day after our father died.”

  Lucian didn’t see a problem with it at all.

  “Dev would go ape shit.”

  “Dev doesn’t even know what I’m doing,” he replied. “He probably won’t even know I’m gone. I’ll be back the following morning.”

  “Lucian—”

  “It’s important that I do this. You know that. I don’t trust . . . I don’t trust that Dev would’ve picked the right person. There is no way I’m just going to step aside and let him handle this.” His tone brooked no room for argument. “Dev can believe all he wants that he’s the one handling this. I don’t care, but I will have a say.”

  Gabe sighed wearily. A moment passed. “You better make sure your guest fully understands how important it is that she does not breathe a word of what has happened here.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, rising lazily from the chair. He wasn’t at all surprised by the fact his brother knew he’d brought someone home.

  This house had ears and eyes.

  Gabe started toward the door. “I’ll find Dev.”

  Lucian watched his brother leave and then turned back to the body of his father, searching for something, anything inside him. The shock he’d felt upon entering the room had faded before it fully formed. That was the man who raised him, hanging from the ceiling fan, and he couldn’t even find a kernel of sorrow within him. Twenty-eight years of living under this man’s thumb and there was nothing. Not even relief. Just an abyss of nothing.

  He looked up at the ceiling fan again.

  Did Lawrence de Vincent hang himself? The patriarch of the family would’ve outlived all of them out of pure spite.

  But if it hadn’t been him, then that meant someone did it and made it look like a suicide. Wasn’t impossible. Crazier shit had happened. He thought of the footsteps he’d heard. It couldn’t be. . . .

  Briefly closing his eyes, he cursed under his breath. This was going to be a long night and not in a fun way. Tomorrow was going to be even longer. As he left the room, he stooped down and lifted the edge of the rug, rolling the heavy material back from the reach of the fluid spreading across the floor.

  Chapter 2

  Lucian hauled ass up the shadowy stairs, taking them two and three at a time. His living quarters weren’t his first stop. He climbed the third flight and entered the enclosed hallway through the breezeway. Wall sconces lit the way, casting just enough light to see a few feet in front of him.

  Passing several closed doors to rooms that hadn’t been opened in years, rooms the staff refused to enter for various screwed-up reasons, he stopped at the end of the hall. Muscles all along his spine tensed as he stared at the off-white door.

  The handle was cold against his palm as he turned it. The door glided open, moving soundlessly along the plush carpet. The scent of roses surrounded him. A light was on in the room. One of those small bedside lamps with a pale colored shade. The figure lying in the large bed with the handcrafted bedposts appeared so incredibly diminutive and frail. Nothing like she’d been before.

  “Maddie?” he called out, his voice sounding abrasive to his own ears.

  There was no movement from the bed. No sound. Nothing that gave him any indication that she was awake or even aware of him. His chest tightened with the kind of pressure that no amount of drinking or screwing around could lessen.

  There was no way those footsteps could’ve belonged to her.

  He stared at the bed, at her, for a moment and then stepped back, closing the door behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he headed for the breezeway and went down a floor. He passed the empty corner guest room that was catty-corner to his.

  A different kind of tension crept into his muscles as he yanked open the door to his rooms. Stepping inside, he drew up short.

  His guest rose from the couch, completely nude with the exception of black fuck-me heels. Holy shit, his gaze moved down, following the red-tipped hand that slid between the swells of her breasts and glided lower, dipping between her thighs.

  “You were taking too long,” she said, and when he dragged his gaze back up, she bit down on her lower lip. “So, I thought I would get started without you.”

  Sounded like a great way to pass time to him.

  There was a part of him that wanted to kick the door shut behind him and forget the mess that was happening downstairs. Hell, he was a man, and that was a very attractive and very naked woman in front of him, playing with herself, but . . .

  Damn it.

  He couldn’t allow himself to take a trip down that happy little road.

  So he focused on her nose, thinking that was a safe place to look. “Honey, I hate to do this—”

  She pounced on him like a damn tiger in the wild. Fucking literally jumped a good foot or more across the floor.

  Out of shock, he caught her. There was no way he could let her hit the floor. He was a dick, but not that big of a dick.

  Long legs wrapped around his hips and warm hands clamped down on his cheeks. Before he could draw in a damn breath, her mouth was on his, her tongue thrusting between his lips like she obviously wanted him to be doing between her thighs.

  She’d apparently also helped herself to the bottle of bourbon.

  He could taste it.

  Grasping her slim hips, he peeled her off like a candy wrapper and put her down on her feet. “Jesus,” he grunted, stepping back. “Did you run track in college?”

  She came forward, frowning when he sidestepped her and bent down, picking up the flimsy pair of panties. She watched him grab her dress next. “What are you doing?”

  “As much as I appreciate the enthusiastic greeting, you’re going to have to leave.” He offered the clothing.

  She lowered her arms to her sides. “What?”

  Searching for patience he didn’t normally have, he drew in a deep, long breath. “I’m sorry, hon, but you’ve got to go. Something has come up.”

  Her gaze flickered to the door behind him, and he swore to God, if one of his brothers was standing there. . . . “What’s come up?” she demanded.

  “Nothing that’s any of your business.” When she didn’t take her clothes the second time, he tossed them on the couch behind her. “Look, I’m sorry about this, but I need you out of here now.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she made no move to pick up what he’d tossed on the couch. “There is no way you’re asking me to leave.”

  Was he speaking in a different language?

  “Whatever is going on, I can wait—”

  “You can’t wait, and I really do not have time for this,” he cut in, his tone hardening.r />
  She stared at him a moment and then her lips thinned. “You have got to be fucking kidding me? This is absolute bullshit.” Her tone pitched high, and Lucian realized he was getting an answer to his earlier question. Her beauty did not run very deep at all. “You drag me all the way out here, get me all worked up, and then you kick me out?”

  “Get you worked up?” He laughed. “Woman, I’ve barely touched you.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “You need to get your stuff together or not. Either you go naked as the day you were born or you put your damn clothes on. Personally, I don’t give a shit.” He stepped toward her, done with this conversation. “But I have the feeling the driver that I have waiting for you doesn’t want your naked ass on his seat.”

  Her cheeks flushed red as he stalked to the bar. “Do you even know my name?” she said.

  Oh hell’s bells.

  He poured himself a drink, knowing this was going to go downhill as fast as a ball on ice.

  “It’s Cindy, by the way, you asshole,” she snapped.

  Tossing the drink back, he was glad to know that he had been in the ballpark of guessing her name. Finished with the drink, he faced her.

  Cindy was shimming the black scrap of lace up her thighs. “Do you have any idea how many men would literally die to be in your position right now?”

  “I’m sure there’s a long list of them,” he replied dryly.

  Snatching her dress off the couch, she glared at him. “Oh yeah, you sound so genuine.” The material slipped over her head. “Do you even know who I am?”

  “I know exactly who you are.”

  “You didn’t even know my name, so I doubt that.” Grabbing her purse off the end table, she flipped blond hair over her shoulder. “But you’re going to know who I am when I’m done—”

  She gasped when he moved faster than he knew she expected. He curled a hand around the nape of her neck like he had earlier. “Just because I didn’t remember your name, doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly who you are.”

  “Is that so?” she whispered, lashes lowering.

  “You’re a walking, breathing trust fund who’s used to getting every damn thing you ever wanted from your daddy. You don’t understand the word no and have an absolute lack of common sense when it comes to self-preservation.”

  “And you’re so different?” She leaned in, wetting her lower lip. “Because it sounds like you’re discussing yourself.”

  He dipped his head, holding her hooded gaze as his grip on the back of her neck tightened. “You absolutely don’t know fuck about me if you think that’s the case. There is nothing you can do to me or my family that I can’t turn back on you three times worse, so keep your pretty little threats as thoughts unfinished.”

  Her hand landed on his chest as her eyes fluttered shut. “You sure about that?”

  Hell.

  She was turned on by this.

  Disgusted, he dropped his hand and let her stumble back. “You were not here. You were nowhere near this house tonight. If you give anyone the slightest indication that you were, I will ruin you.” He paused, making sure he had her attention. “And before you say whatever is on the tip of your tongue, I want you to take a moment to think about who I am and what I can do.”

  Cindy had snapped her mouth shut at that point. She got it and didn’t give him an ounce of trouble after that.

  Once she was safely ensconced in the car that was waiting behind the house, he joined his brothers in the main living room.

  “Took long enough,” Dev said, his gaze moving over him. “And yet you somehow couldn’t find the time to put on a pair of shoes or tuck your damn shirt in?”

  Lucian’s eyes narrowed as he stalked past his brother. “You do realize it’s nearly five in the fucking morning and I doubt anyone is going to be paying attention to the way I’m dressed.”

  “Lucian has a point,” Gabe said from where he sat perched on the couch, playing the middle man per usual. “It’s really late—or really early. It’s not a big deal.”

  Dev tilted his head to the side. “Did you check on her?”

  He nodded. “She’s the same as she has been.”

  Gabe tucked back a strand of hair. The ends nearly reached his shoulders. Their father hated that he kept it on the longer side, claiming it made him look like—what had he said—a ne’er-do-well? “What are we going to do if they start searching the house and they find her? Not even Troy knows about her.”

  “There’s no reason for them to search the house,” Dev answered. “Just as there’s no reason for Troy to know about her. It’s bad enough—”

  “What’s bad enough?” Lucian cut in, feeling a flash of anger light up his veins like a match to gasoline. “That she’s here? That she’s actually alive?”

  “I was going to say it’s bad enough that we basically had to fund the new office Dr. Flores has been wanting to build for the last five years to make sure he respects the discretion that is needed in this situation.” Dev’s tone was bland. No emotion. Nothing. “And who knows how much money . . .” His gaze flicked toward the entrance a moment before there was a knock.

  Dev had this preternatural ability of knowing when anyone outside the family was nearby. It was actually kind of creepy.

  Lucian sat beside Gabe as Dev left the room, and lifted his hands, dragging his palms down his face. “Fuck.”

  “Yep,” Gabe replied and that was all he said.

  Dev was back and behind him was Detective Troy LeMere. Troy looked like he’d been in his bed, happy with his new wife, when he’d gotten the call. The tan khakis were as wrinkly as Lucian’s brain felt. The light windbreaker didn’t conceal the gun at his hip.

  They’d encountered Troy one summer they were home from the boarding school they’d been shipped off to in the north. They would sneak off the property and end up at the courts a few miles down the road. That’s how they met Troy, and even though they came from backgrounds that couldn’t be any more different, a strong bond had formed.

  Their friendship had annoyed their father until Troy had gone into the police academy. Then, their father was all about that connection, because he saw how he could now exploit it.

  Sometimes Lucian wondered if that was why Dev still associated with Troy.

  “What in the hell, guys?” Troy asked, rubbing his palm over the close-cropped dark hair. No condolences. He knew better. “The whole way over here I thought this was some kind of joke.”

  “Why would we joke about something like that?” Dev asked. “At this time in the morning?”

  Lucian rolled his eyes as Gabe muttered something that suspiciously sounded like “fuck me” under his breath.

  Troy was used to Dev and basically ignored him. “So, he hung himself?”

  “In the old study.” Dev stepped aside. “You may as well come and see for yourself. I’ll show you the way.”

  Troy didn’t point out that he knew exactly where the study was, but as he passed Lucian by, he sent him a look. Lucian shook his head slightly.

  Gabe sighed heavily and rose as they disappeared down the hall that led to the study. “I better go change before Dev realizes I’m still not wearing a shirt.”

  He snorted. “I’m pretty sure he has realized that, but giving you shit isn’t his favorite pastime.”

  “True, but I’ll do it anyway.”

  Watching his brother leave the room, he leaned into the cushion and threw his arm along the back of the couch. Troy and Dev weren’t gone long. Maybe five minutes before they returned.

  Dev stood in front of one of the many fireplaces never used, arms across his chest and his expression as stoic as a statue’s. Troy looked a little shaken under his dark brown skin as he sat on the arm of the nearby chair. “I’m going to have to call in the ME, but we can try to keep this a small crew.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Dev replied.

  Troy eyed him a moment and then said, “Before everyone gets here and this turns into
a circus, what’s the story?”

  “What do you mean?” Dev frowned. “I told you already. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and saw that the light was on. I found him like that.”

  “Are you seriously telling me you believe that man actually killed himself?” Troy asked, brows raised. “I know your father. That bastard would survive a nuclear bomb just to—”

  “Don’t,” Dev warned, nostrils flaring.

  Troy’s eyes narrowed.

  Lucian intervened before the conversation escalated, like most conversations did with Dev. Except the escalation was always one-sided. “How can it not be what it looks like it?”

  His friend shot him a knowing look. “Where were you?”

  “I was at the Red Stallion. Came home a little after two I think.” He left out the info about his guest. Didn’t need to drag her into this. “I came downstairs when Dev called me.”

  “Gabe?” Troy took in the room. “Where’d he go?”

  “He left to put some clothes on,” he answered, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “He should be back down in a few, but I’m telling you, man, that’s how we found him.”

  Troy glanced down at the phone hooked to his belt and then refocused. “Look, you know you can trust me. When the ME gets here, they’re not going to just take him down and bag him. They’re going to check him over.”

  “I know.” Dev’s tone was flat. “Father was . . . he was having some issues lately, especially with everything that is happening with our uncle. He had a hard time dealing with it. You know how he was about his image.”

  Interesting.

  Lucian’s gaze flicked to his brother. Yeah, their uncle, the illustrious senator, was embroiled in one nasty scandal that involved a missing intern . . . or two, but their father hadn’t appeared all that worked up about it. Now, his father had gotten all kinds of bent out of shape over who was on the third floor, but that made sense.

  “Did you guys review the security tapes?” Troy asked.

  “The outside ones didn’t show anything suspicious. No one coming or going with the exception of Lucian coming home,” Dev explained. “The inside cameras stopped working ages ago.”