Kill Without Shame
Page 6
“Mia, let me stay,” he said in low, pleading tones. “Please.”
Chapter Five
Lucas knew he was pushing Mia.
As far as she was concerned he was nothing more than the bastard who’d broken her heart.
She certainly hadn’t taken one look at him and allowed the fifteen years to fade away. And she wasn’t desperately hoping to give their relationship a second chance.
But there was a ball of dread lodged in the pit of his stomach with Mia’s name on it. He needed to be close to her. At least until they discovered why Tony had been shot.
Perhaps sensing it was going to take far more energy than she currently had to dislodge him, she rolled her eyes and headed back into the living room. Minutes later she returned with her cell phone.
“I’m ordering dinner.” She sent him a challenging glare. “What do you want?”
Pretending he didn’t notice her blatant lack of enthusiasm, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“Is there any place that delivers a good po’ boy?”
Like any respectable Louisianan, Mia had the restaurant on speed dial.
“Anything with it?” she asked as she pressed the phone to her ear.
“Coleslaw,” he answered, heading across the linoleum floor. “Do you have any beer?” Opening the fridge, he smiled in satisfaction. A six-pack from a microbrewery. “Perfect,” he murmured, pulling out two beers and twisting off the tops.
He made his way back to Mia, handing her one of the bottles before taking a deep drink. He sighed as the crisp ale slid down his throat.
“Make yourself at home,” she muttered.
He took another drink before he set the bottle on the table and studied Mia’s pale face. He wished he had the right to demand that she crawl into bed and let him take care of her.
“I noticed a scratch on your bumper,” he said instead. He’d used a part of the long day to do a thorough inspection of the long sheds filled with equipment and the neat rows of greenhouses adjacent to her office building. He’d been impressed with the scope of her operations. He’d known she’d been doing well, but this . . . It wasn’t until he’d walked past her car that he’d seen the dent in her bumper. It looked recent. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Mia.” He narrowed his gaze. “Tell me.”
She took a drink of the beer. No doubt it was that or hitting him over the head with the bottle.
“An SUV swerved into my lane and tapped my bumper,” she at last informed him through clenched teeth.
“It was more than a tap.”
“Accidents happen.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Shit. A cold chill inched down his spine.
It wasn’t a coincidence. No matter what Mia wanted to believe.
“Did you get a license plate number?”
She cast him a glance of disbelief. “Of course not. I was trying to avoid the ditch, not playing detective.”
He ignored the jab. “Did you at least notice if it was from Louisiana?”
She hesitated, biting her bottom lip as she tried to remember.
“I think so.”
“Describe the SUV.”
“Big.” She shrugged. “Black.”
“That’s it?” he demanded.
“That’s it.”
He pulled out his phone, hiding his frustration with her lack of details as he sent a quick text to Teagan.
It wasn’t like she could have known she would need to describe the vehicle that rammed her. And anyone would be rattled by such a close call.
Still, a plate number would have given them their first tangible lead.
Sending the message, he looked up from the phone to meet Mia’s narrowed gaze. “Any other near accidents?”
She set down her beer, her face hardening with that stubborn expression he remembered when they’d just been teenagers.
“What are you doing here, Lucas?”
He pocketed his phone, unable to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a silky curl behind her ear. His fingers slid down her neck before lingering on the pulse beating at the base of her throat.
“You know why I’m here.”
“No.” She smacked his hand away, but not before he felt her pulse leap. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
“I’m worried you’re in danger,” he said without hesitation.
“Why would you be worried?” she pressed.
“You saw the picture—”
“No,” she interrupted in a hard voice. “Why does my safety concern you?”
Lucas frowned. “Is that a joke?”
“There’s nothing funny about this.” Her jaw jutted to an aggressive angle. She was spoiling for a fight he had no intention of giving her. “Fifteen years ago you walked away with some stupid note that said I was better off without you, and then nothing until you suddenly reappear in my office with the pretense of caring whether or not I’m in danger.”
Regret scalded through him. Not only for the pain he’d inflicted all those years ago, but for the realization that his past screwups meant she didn’t trust him.
It was going to be a constant battle to try and keep her safe.
“There’s no pretense.” He squashed his instinct to pull her into his arms. She was more likely to break his nose than snuggle against his chest. “I do care. I always have.”
She made a sound of disgust. “Are you trying to drum up business?”
He stiffened. What the hell?
“Business?”
“Am I going to get a bill from ARES Security for your services?”
“Shit, Mia,” he growled, stung by her accusation.
She hunched a shoulder. “It’s a fair question.”
It wasn’t fair. He’d dropped everything, including several lucrative contracts, not to mention a friend who was being harassed by a dangerous stalker, to rush to her side.
But maybe she deserved the opportunity to give one or two shots below the belt.
“I’m here because you’re important to me,” he said, reaching to grasp her shoulders as he leaned down until they were nose to nose. “And yes, I’ll use every asset that I can get my hands on, including my friends and their considerable expertise. But no, I have no intention of billing you.” He deliberately paused. “Satisfied?”
She pushed him away, color staining her cheekbones as she sucked in a deep breath.
His touch disturbed her. Good. It meant that she wasn’t as over him as she wanted to pretend.
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Are you staying with your parents while you’re in town?”
He winced. Another low blow. She better than anyone knew that he had a shitty relationship with his family. And since his return from Afghanistan it’d been nonexistent.
They’d assumed that once he was back home he would eagerly cash in on his brief moment of fame to demand a position in the State Department. When he’d instead chosen to open a security business they’d all but washed their hands of him.
Thank God.
“They spend December in Saint-Tropez,” he reminded her in soft tones.
Her blush deepened, something that might have been remorse darkening her eyes.
“Of course.”
His male instinct was to pounce while she was feeling guilty at having deliberately tried to hurt him, but his training as a negotiator warned him that he might gain a temporary advantage, but in the end lose the war.
An unacceptable outcome.
Instead he grabbed his beer and glanced around the kitchen. “When did you move here?”
He could see her visibly relax as she followed his lead.
“About four months ago. My father left me a small inheritance and I used it for a down payment on this house as well as the new office building.”
“I didn’t know he’d passed until this afternoon,” he said.
She arched a brow. “Were you running a background check
on me?”
His lips twisted. What would she do if she knew he’d been keeping a distant eye on her for the past fifteen years? He still wasn’t sure how he’d missed the death of George Ramon.
“Gathering intel,” he corrected, silently promising to make sure she never caught sight of the detailed report that Teagan had e-mailed just an hour ago.
She rolled her eyes. “Intel.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said in gentle tones.
She heaved a faint sigh. “Me too, but to be honest I lost my father years ago. He always drank, but after I took over the business he retreated from the world and into a bottle,” she admitted, an edge of pain in her voice. “In the past few years he wouldn’t let anyone come visit him. Including me.”
He took a swig of his beer. “Families,” he muttered.
They shared a mutual look of resignation. Their childhoods had been polar opposites, and yet remarkably similar.
A sudden knock on the door had Mia jumping and Lucas instinctively reaching for the gun he had holstered at his side.
He felt like a cowboy, but in Louisiana he didn’t have the necessary permit to carry a concealed weapon.
Then, giving a shaky laugh, Mia pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “That’s probably the delivery boy.”
“I’ll get it,” he muttered, taking a step forward.
Instantly Mia was standing in his path. “It’s my house. I can answer my own door.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “I’m wound a little tight right now, Mia,” he warned.
“So you get to be a pushy bastard?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
Just like that.
It wasn’t intentional. Hell, he’d planned to play it cool.
Like he was just an old friend in town to help out.
But the thought of her opening the door to some random stranger had triggered every male instinct he possessed.
Including the one that said this woman belonged to him.
And it was about damned time he claimed her....
* * *
For a crazed moment, Mia melted into Lucas’s kiss.
God, she’d missed this.
The sizzling heat. The leap of her heart. The flutters of excitement in the pit of her stomach.
No one else had ever managed to create such a frenzy of need inside her. No one had ever left her aching with a hunger that woke her in the middle of the night.
Her lips parted, allowing the tip of his tongue to dip in her mouth. He tasted of tangy beer and raw male lust.
A perfect combination.
Her hands lifted, her fingers sinking into the luxurious satin of his hair. At the same time, her body arched to press tight against his chiseled muscles.
Her toes curled in pleasure.
He was leaner, harder than he’d been at eighteen. And maybe an inch taller. Somehow the small changes only intensified her desire to rip off his clothes and do a more thorough inspection.
There was another rap on her door, yanking her out of her fog of passion.
Good God, what was she doing?
Yeah, Lucas could make her toes curl. But he also was the jerk who’d dumped her.
She pulled back her head, her heart missing a beat as his lips skimmed down the arch of her neck.
“The food,” she breathed, pressing her hands against his chest. “Lucas.”
She heard a groan wrenched from his throat before he was reluctantly lifting his head.
“You’re lucky I haven’t had a decent po’ boy in years,” he murmured, giving her lower lip a sharp nip.
“You’re lucky I couldn’t reach the steak knives,” she retorted, shuddering as he pulled away and headed out of the kitchen. Her heart continued to race and there was a throbbing deep inside her that she feared wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. “Dammit, Mia, get it together,” she muttered in a low voice.
Five minutes later, Lucas returned, spreading out the food on the table while Mia automatically moved to gather plates, forks, and two fresh beers.
There was a tiny voice in the back of her head that warned this was a very, very bad idea. Playing house with Lucas St. Clair was bound to stir up emotions that she didn’t want stirred.
There was another part, however, that wasn’t opposed to having company for dinner. Even if it was Lucas.
She was still shaken by the news of Tony’s murder. She didn’t want to be alone to think of the life he’d wasted. Or who might want him dead.
After they were done eating she would put on her big-girl panties and kick Lucas out.
Picking up his sandwich, Lucas took a bite and promptly heaved a sigh of pleasure. “Damn, I’ve forgotten how good food tastes in Louisiana.”
Mia picked up her own sandwich. Lucas was right. There wasn’t anywhere that made a better po’ boy. Fresh oysters drenched in cayenne-spiced cornmeal and deep fried before being piled on a buttery homemade bun with rémoulade sauce.
Scooping a second helping of coleslaw onto her plate, she ate with a surprising appetite, considering the circumstance. But even as she hoped that she could just forget about the shitty day and relax, Lucas was pushing aside his empty plate and studying her with a renewed sense of purpose.
Crap.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he abruptly reminded her.
“Which one?”
He leaned his elbows on the table. “Have there been any other accidents?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She rose to her feet. Dinner was over. Time to get back to reality. “Now, it’s late. So if you don’t mind I’d like to have a hot bath and get ready for bed.”
Shoving himself upright, Lucas squared his shoulders. “I suppose we might as well get this argument out of the way.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m taking your spare room.”
She blinked. What the hell? Did he just assume he was staying the night?
Staring at him in disbelief, she gave a sharp shake of her head. “No. No way.”
He folded his arms over his chest, his expression grim. “I use the bed in the spare room or we sleep together.” He held her narrowed gaze. “Your choice.”
“Forget it.”
“I’m not leaving you alone, Mia,” he insisted.
She planted her fists on her hips. “It’s not your decision, Lucas.”
His mouth parted, no doubt to insist he was going to stay, but the words died on his lips as there was a loud squeak on her back porch.
They both froze; then, reaching to his side, Lucas pulled out his small handgun.
Leaning down, he spoke directly in her ear. “Stay here.”
“No.” She touched his arm, a surge of panic clenching her heart. “Lucas, don’t.”
“It’ll be fine.” He brushed a light kiss over her lips. “Lock the door behind me.”
Chapter Six
Lucas gently tugged out of Mia’s tight grip, heading to the living room and quietly out the front door. Then, pausing until he heard Mia lock it behind him, he slid silently through the shadows along the side of the house.
He didn’t have the same skills as Hauk or Rafe, but he’d been taught to move with enough stealth to get a jump on whoever had been lurking on the back porch.
Reaching the corner, he pressed his back tight against the house and peeked around the edge. He narrowed his gaze, still trying to adjust to the darkness, when there was a rustling in the hedges that lined Mia’s property as the intruder made a swift retreat.
“Shit.”
Giving up on the hope he could sneak up on the bastard, Lucas dashed toward the hedge, discovering a narrow opening into the neighboring yard. He peered through, but he wasn’t stupid enough to walk into a trap.
Instead he headed toward the end of the bushes where he had a clear view of the yard.
No big surprise that there was nothing to be seen.
There were no lights on inside, but he’d been almost certain he’d seen a curtain twitch.
Yanking out his phone, he called Teagan. “I’m going to need some extra manpower,” he said, without bothering with social niceties. Someone had been either spying on Mia or trying to get into her house. He wanted to make sure he had someone watching her 24/7. Without hesitation Teagan agreed to send backup. “Thanks, man,” Lucas breathed, absently retracing his path. “Oh, and would you run a check on Mia’s neighbors?”
Jogging up the back steps, he knocked on the door, pleased when Mia cautiously peered through the window before she was turning the lock and pushing it open.
Lucas stepped inside, closing and locking the door before slipping his gun back into his holster.
Mia bit her bottom lip, trying to hide the fear that smoldered deep in her eyes.
“Did you catch them?”
He grimaced. “No. Whoever it was disappeared through the hedge.”
“You know, it could just have been someone cutting through the yards,” she said.
He didn’t bother to respond to the ridiculous suggestion. They both knew that a person cutting through yards didn’t creep onto back porches.
Instead, he shrugged off his jacket.
“Which room is mine?”
* * *
Max watched Teagan tuck his phone back in his pocket. The two had stopped at a local restaurant that looked like a dive, but served the best enchiladas in town.
“Lucas?” Max demanded.
“Yeah, he has a situation,” Teagan said, finishing off his beer, preparing to return to the office.
“And?” Max prompted.
Sometimes his companion had the communication skills of a caveman.
Teagan shrugged, rising to his feet to pull on his leather coat. “And he wants me to run a few names through the computer and then head to Shreveport to give him some backup.”
Max felt a surge of anticipation, grabbing his own coat as he followed his friend past the cramped tables and out the door. The damp night air felt chilly after the heat of the restaurant, but Max barely noticed.