Kill Without Shame

by Alexandra Ivy

  Naturally, she refused to listen to reason, brushing past him on her way up the narrow pathway.

  “The electricity is still on, so we might as well do it now,” she said.

  He clenched his teeth. Mia would no doubt claim that she was determined. He would say stubborn as a mule.

  Accepting he wasn’t going to change her mind, he hurried to walk at her side, his gaze scanning the gathering darkness for any hint of danger.

  “What do you intend to do with the land?” he asked.

  “First I need to have it cleared.” She waved a hand toward the piles of junk. “Later I might put up some new sheds to store my equipment and even expand my nursery.”

  “You aren’t tempted to sell it?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “No. This land isn’t much, but it was in my mother’s family for years.” A sad smile touched her lips. “It’s really about the only thing I have left that belonged to her or my grandparents.”

  Lucas was sharply reminded of how tough it’d been for Mia growing up. The death of her mother. Her father’s drinking. The stuck-up bastards who treated her like shit because she was George Ramon’s daughter.

  The fact that she’d become such an amazing woman was a testament to her sheer determination.

  They rounded the back of the house, the singsong sound of frogs filling the air.

  “It’s isolated,” he said, not at all happy with the thought of her using the land for her business. A young, beautiful woman shouldn’t be alone in such a remote location.

  “Yes,” she agreed, unaware he intended to do his best to halt her plans. “There used to be an old trapper who lived down the road. He died almost ten years ago.”

  “Who owns the land now?”

  “A nephew, I think.” Mia gave an absent lift of her shoulder. “I’ve never seen him out here.”

  Lucas frowned, glancing toward the tangled undergrowth and mossy ground. If Vicky Fontaine wanted a toxic waste dump, why didn’t she buy the neighbor’s land? It sounded as if no one was particularly attached to it.

  He pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Teagan to have him check out the neighbor. He was just finishing when he heard Mia’s soft gasp.

  Instantly he had the phone shoved back in his pocket and was jogging up the back steps.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The lock is broken,” she whispered.

  “Let me look around,” he commanded, pulling his gun out of the holster as he stepped into the house.

  Flipping on the lights, he made his way through the kitchen, which was little more than a stove, a fridge, a sink, and two cabinets. The living room was equally small, with the windows heavily covered by drapes, as if afraid that a peek of sunlight might manage to penetrate the shadows. He continued into the two bedrooms, which clearly hadn’t been used in years. He assumed that George had preferred to sleep on the threadbare couch in front of the ancient TV.

  Within a few minutes he’d assured himself there were no hidden intruders and returned to gesture to Mia that it was okay to come inside.

  “It’s impossible to say if anyone was in here,” he said. “Do you want to see if anything is missing?”

  “It’s doubtful,” she murmured, slowly walking through the kitchen and into the living room. She heaved a sigh at the meager belongings shrouded in dust. “My father didn’t have anything of value.”

  Lucas studied her tense profile, considering his words. He preferred not to admit that he’d had her father fully investigated.

  “He might not have expensive furniture or electronics, but I remember my mother always paid your father in cash,” he said. “I assume that’s how he asked most of his clients to pay him.”

  She nodded. “He was paranoid that the government was spying on him. Or at least that’s what he always claimed.” Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. “I think he wanted to avoid paying taxes.”

  “Which means that it was probably well known that he kept a large amount of cash in his home.”

  Her eyes widened, belatedly realizing the danger of a drunk old man living in the middle of nowhere with a ton of cash lying around.

  “True,” she breathed. She shivered, moving toward the couch.

  He watched as she pulled off the old cushions. “You said that he left you an inheritance?” He asked the question that’d been nagging at him since he’d entered the barren shack.

  It seemed impossible to believe that a man who lived in this place could afford to leave money to his daughter.

  “A few days before he went into the hospital he called Sonny and asked him to come out here to pick up the hope chest that he’d made for me when I was a little girl,” she said, her tone distracted as she unzipped the ratty fabric that covered the cushions and reached her hands inside. Clearly that was where George hid his cash. “When I opened it up I found fifty thousand dollars in cash.”

  Lucas released a slow whistle. “That’s a lot of money.”

  She jerked her head up, a flush staining her cheeks. “I declared it on my taxes before I used it as a down payment on the new office and my house.”

  He held up a hand, hating the fact that she felt the need to defend her morals. Yet another legacy that came with being the daughter of George Ramon.

  People like Vicky Fontaine could shrug off the scandal of having a husband who embezzled millions, but Mia would always have to prove her integrity.

  “I just mean that it’s a considerable fortune for a gardener to be able to save,” he said in soft tones.

  She searched the last cushion before returning them to the couch with a faint sigh.

  If there had been any money, it was obviously gone.

  “As you can see, he didn’t spend much on himself.” She shrugged. “And I think he said something about my mother having a life insurance policy. I assume that’s where most of the inheritance came from.”

  “Is there anyone who would know about the insurance money?” he demanded.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose the lawyer who set up my mother’s will and . . . oh.”

  Lucas moved forward as Mia suddenly bent over to pick up something that was half hidden beneath the couch.

  “What is it?”

  Mia held up the shiny object. “Tony’s lighter.”

  He stood close beside her, his brows pulled together. “You’re sure it’s Tony’s?”

  “Yeah.” She turned it over to reveal the ornate etching on the back. “It’s inscribed with his initials.” She lifted her head to regard Lucas with a somber expression. “He never went anywhere without it.”

  Lucas reached to take the lighter, slipping it into his pocket. He would have Max take a closer look at it.

  “Would he have a reason to visit when your father was still alive?” he asked when Mia obviously intended to protest his bossy behavior.

  She rolled her eyes, seemingly accepting she wasn’t going to change him.

  Smart woman.

  “No,” she at last said. “My father never hid his opinion of the Hughes brothers. He said they should all be locked up and the key thrown away.”

  “Which means he came here after your father’s death,” Lucas said, trying to imagine Tony slipping through the shack.

  Certainly he would have known that George kept money here, but it was doubtful he would have known about the life insurance policy. And if he had been looking for petty cash, why waste his time driving all the way out here on the vague hope there would be some lying around?

  It would have been easier to ask Mia for a loan. She would never have said no.

  “Probably,” Mia said, looking troubled.

  “So, the question is . . .” Lucas glanced around the cramped room. “Did he come here to look for something? Or to hide something?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mia was silent on the trip home.

  God. She hated to visit her father’s house. It not only brought back memories of her grim, lonely childhood, but it was a naggi
ng reminder that she couldn’t pretend that the mess would simply go away. At some point she had to actually take a few days off work to clean out the house and hire people to haul away the junk.

  Now she had to add in the baffling realization that Tony, and God knew who else, had been sneaking onto the property.

  What was he doing out there?

  Was he looking for money? Or hiding from whoever killed him? Or was he using the abandoned shack to conceal some mystery item that the murderer wanted to get back?

  The questions scurried around her brain like a hamster on a wheel, spinning faster and faster with no answers.

  It was a relief when they pulled into her driveway. She had to concentrate on jumping out of the SUV and digging through her purse for the key as they crossed the yard to climb the steps onto the narrow porch.

  Shoving open the door, she was firmly tugged aside so Lucas could enter the house in front of her. Ignoring her companion’s slow and thorough inspection of each room, Mia pulled off her jacket and tossed it on the couch along with her purse. At the same time she kicked off her shoes.

  It’d been a long day and she intended to make herself comfortable.

  Crossing the room, she was intent on discovering if she had any beer left in the fridge when Lucas wrapped his arm around her waist.

  “Lucas,” she breathed, shivering when she felt him tugging her hair out of the braid she’d used to keep the heavy strands out of her face while she was doing inventory.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, his lips skimming her cheek as his arm tightened around her.

  Was she? Mia found it impossible to think as his tongue traced the shell of her ear.

  All she knew was that the tiny tremors that shook her body were no longer from the chilled air. Or the aftereffects of being at her father’s house.

  Nope. They were entirely due to the lips that were pressed to a spot just below her jaw.

  “Not really,” she managed to mutter.

  “Good.”

  He brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could trail a path of kisses down the line of her throat. Another shiver raced through her. The feel of his lips brushing against her skin was setting off tiny explosions of pleasure.

  She swayed until her back was pressed against his broad chest, trying to remember why this was a bad idea.

  “Lucas.” Her mouth went dry as his hand slid beneath her sweater, skimming up the tense muscles of her stomach before he was cupping her breast. “Shouldn’t we be doing something?”

  He chuckled, pressing the thick ridge of his erection against her behind.

  “We are.”

  “I meant we should be looking for Tony’s murderer,” she tried to insist.

  His thumb found the tip of her breast, stroking it to an aching peak. Acute pleasure streaked through her. Did he remember how sensitive she was there?

  “There’s nothing more we can do tonight,” he assured her, licking the pulse that was fluttering at the base of her neck.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs as he blew a soft breath over the damp skin, his fingers moving to efficiently deal with the tiny clip that held her bra together.

  Instantly her breasts tumbled free, and she felt a tiny pang of panic.

  “The investigators will be done with Tony’s condo,” she forced herself to say, making a last stab for sanity. “We could go check it out.”

  With one smooth motion, he was skimming the sweater up and over her head. He had it tossed aside along with her bra before she could protest. Then, grasping her shoulders, he turned her to face him.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, his voice husky as his gaze moved over her face and down to her bare breasts.

  His fingers dug into her shoulders as his eyes darkened at the sight. She heard his low moan before he was slowly lowering his head, his lips closing around a pink nipple that was already beaded to a hard point.

  Her hands instinctively lifted to press against his chest as jolts of electric excitement threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Lucas,” she groaned, her nails digging into his flesh.

  Reluctantly lifting his head, he studied her flushed face. “Do you want me to stop?”

  Stop? She did, didn’t she? After all, she’d decided she wasn’t going to let this man get to her again.

  He’d hurt her. Betrayed her. Abandoned her.

  Of course, he’d explained he’d only been trying to protect her, the voice of temptation whispered in the back of her mind. And besides, this didn’t have to mean anything, right?

  It was just sex.

  Fantastic, mind-blowing sex with the one man who could make her burn with need.

  After the crappy few days she’d had, she deserved this.

  “I don’t know,” she breathed.

  Any other man might have been offended by her mixed signals. Or at least frustrated. But not Lucas. His wicked smile revealed the arrogance of a man who knew how to get exactly what he wanted.

  “Then let me see if I can help you make up your mind,” he murmured.

  Allowing his hands to slide down her back, he cupped her butt as he grazed her lips with a light, teasing kiss. Over and over he tormented her with the butterfly caresses, giving her a hint of paradise only to pull away.

  Frustrated, Mia wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips, silently urging him to deepen the kiss.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  With a slow, drugging perfection he consumed her. There was simply no other word for it. His kisses were hot, demanding, utterly possessive. In this moment he owned her, body and soul.

  Making tiny sounds of anticipation, she allowed herself to melt against his hard body. She didn’t know why it was only Lucas’s kisses that could set her on fire, but right now she didn’t care.

  She simply wanted to savor the heat curling through the pit of her stomach and the frantic beat of her heart. And his amazing ability to make her feel as if she was beautiful and desirable and gloriously alive.

  Time lost all meaning as he continued to kiss her, the troubles of the day temporarily forgotten. In his arms, the real world was far away.

  At last, his mouth moved to stroke over her flushed cheeks, allowing her to suck in a deep breath.

  “God, I’ve missed the taste of you,” he groaned, burying his face in her hair. “Your smell.”

  She blinked. “Smell?”

  “It’s like summer,” he whispered in her ear. “Rich earth. Sun-kissed roses.”

  She shivered as his warm breath brushed over her skin. “I was working in the sheds.”

  “No. It’s you,” he said. “Just you.”

  Skimming his lips over her cheeks, he captured her lips in a kiss that seared a path of pleasure to the tips of her toes. At the same time, he wrapped his arms around her so he could scoop her off her feet.

  Mia pulled her head back as he smoothly carried her across the floor and into her bedroom. That panic was once again fluttering at the edge of her mind.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she demanded.

  His lips twitched, a sinful amusement burning in the depths of his indigo eyes.

  “It’s been a while, but I think I can figure it out,” he assured her in low tones.

  She didn’t doubt that for a second. There was an unmistakable skill in the ease with which he lowered her onto the mattress and skimmed his fingers along the curve of her midriff to hook in the waistband of her slacks. With a gentle tug the silky pants were being pushed off her hips and down her legs.

  She was left wearing nothing more than her white lace undies.

  “This is going to complicate everything,” she muttered.

  His brooding gaze took a slow, thorough survey of her near-naked body, a hint of color highlighting his chiseled cheekbones.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She blinked in surprise, watching as he shrugged out of his coat and dropped it onto the floor.

  “What?”

  He held her wary gaz
e, unhooking his holster and carefully placing the gun on her dresser before swiftly shedding the rest of his clothing.

  “I know you want me to say this is just sex,” he said.

  She blushed, wondering if he could read her mind. “I didn’t say—”

  He interrupted her stumbling words. “You didn’t have to. I can see it in your eyes.” He moved to place a knee on the edge of the mattress, his hand reaching out to trail a finger along the top of her panties. “You want to pretend that this is nothing more than a meaningless hookup.”

  Mia licked her lips, silently studying his lean, beautiful features before her gaze moved down to his perfectly sculpted body.

  God. He was spectacular.

  The broad shoulders. The chest that was lightly sprinkled with dark hair that arrowed down his flat stomach. His hips were narrow and his legs were long and surprisingly muscular. Even his feet were flawless.

  She’d always been a bit amazed that such a man could be interested in her. Which was no doubt a part of the reason she continued to protect herself from his persuasive charm.

  What had Taylor said? O-O-M-C-Z? Lucas St. Clair was out of the comfort zone of any normal woman.

  She would be an idiot to believe she was more than a brief moment of madness.

  “I won’t let you hurt me again,” she said, more to reassure herself than to warn Lucas.

  He leaned forward, planting his hand on the mattress next to her head.

  “I intend to make you the happiest woman in the world,” he assured her.

  Against her will, her lips twitched. “You still have the arrogance of a St. Clair.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head, heat smoldering in his eyes.

  “Not arrogance, just a promise that I’m going to do everything in my power to please you.”

  Mia’s breath was wrenched from her lungs as his finger dipped beneath her panties. Instinctively she let her legs part, allowing him to explore the slick heat.

  “That’s a good start,” she rasped, her hips lifting off the mattress as he found her clit and teased it with feathery brushes of his fingertip.

  “Just good?” he demanded, his finger moving so it could slide deep into her body. “What about this?”

  Her body quivered with anticipation, the feel of his finger thrusting in and out of her unbearably erotic.