Kill Without Shame

  “Damn,” Lucas muttered, recognizing the tall, thin woman with suspiciously blond hair that she kept twisted into a fancy knot at the back of her head.

  Vicky Fontaine.

  Max gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Is something wrong?”

  “Keep a watch on the door,” he commanded. It didn’t matter whether or not he had a nurse standing next to Mia. He wanted one of his brothers standing guard. “No one gets in or out unless they have a hospital ID.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To talk to an old friend,” he muttered, shrugging off Max’s grasp to jog down the hallway. Still, the woman he was chasing had nearly reached the elevators by the time he caught her. “Mrs. Fontaine.”

  The woman, who was wearing a dress that no doubt cost more than most people made in a month, slowly turned, revealing that she had changed remarkably little in the past fifteen years.

  Her long, thin face had a few more wrinkles than the last time he’d seen her, and he’d bet his considerable fortune she’d had work done on her nose, but she still looked a decade younger than her fifty-plus years.

  She might have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the gray eyes that were as hard as granite and the too-thin body that always made Lucas think of a praying mantis. He liked his woman warm and lush and filled with life.

  The stray thought made Lucas recall the sight of Mia lying so pale in her hospital bed. Fury stabbed through him, even as he pasted a polite smile on his lips.

  It was doubtful this woman would be involved in attempted murder, but for now everyone was a suspect.

  “Can I help you?” The older woman widened her eyes as she belatedly recognized him. “Lucas St. Clair?”

  “It’s been a long time,” he murmured.

  She allowed her gaze to take in his unshaven face and hair that was tangled from the times he’d shoved his fingers through it.

  “I didn’t know you were back in town,” she said. “Are your parents home?”

  His smile never faltered despite the subtle dig. The woman had to know that his relationship with his family was strained.

  Was she deliberately trying to annoy him or just being a bitch?

  “No. They’re still in Saint-Tropez.”

  “Ah.” She peered down the length of her long nose. “Is there something you need?”

  He managed to keep his smile intact. “I hope you aren’t visiting a family member.”

  “No.” She gave an elegant lift of one shoulder. “I’m on the board of directors for the hospital. I’m expected to make an occasional appearance.”

  “Of course,” he murmured.

  It was a perfectly legitimate reason for being there. And Lucas couldn’t detect anything in her demeanor that would make him suspect that she had any other reason to visit the hospital.

  Still, he wasn’t done with his questions.

  “If that’s all,” she murmured, her lips flattening with annoyance when he smoothly stepped between her and the elevators.

  “I spoke to your lawyer yesterday.”

  She arched a perfectly groomed brow. “Why would you speak with my lawyer?”

  “He was trying to pressure Mia Ramon to sell her father’s land.”

  He carefully watched her expression, but it gave nothing away. Botox? Or simply nothing to hide?

  “What business is it of yours?” she demanded.

  “Mia asked me to handle her inheritance for her,” he easily lied.

  There was the briefest hesitation before Vicky responded. “I see.”

  “Can I ask what you want with the land?”

  She lifted a thin hand that was shimmering with diamonds, including the outrageously large engagement ring that Paul had given her.

  The husband was gone, but she wasn’t about to toss away the pretty baubles he’d bought her. Not that Lucas blamed her. Paul Fontaine had always been a womanizing lowlife. She might as well get something out of her lousy marriage.

  “I intend to clean it up so it can be turned into a protected wetlands,” she said.

  Lucas didn’t bother to hide his disbelief. “Wetlands?”

  She shrugged. “I’m told they’re endangered.”

  “Philanthropy, Mrs. Fontaine?” he drawled.

  A cunning glint entered the gray eyes. “You know how people like us enjoy having our names attached to good works,” she said. “My grandfather built a library. My father added a wing on this hospital, and I’ll have a nationally registered park.”

  Once again her words made perfect sense. Did he believe her?

  Lucas wasn’t sure.

  Certainly his own parents gave obscene amounts of money to make sure their name was attached to fountains, gardens, buildings, and at least one petting zoo.

  He’d have Teagan do some digging. He could at least discover if it was feasible to turn Mia’s property into protected wetlands.

  “Impressive,” he assured her.

  She glanced at the watch strapped around her thin wrist. “Now I really must go.”

  This time there was no stopping her as the elevator slid open and she brushed past him to step inside. Lucas waited until the doors closed before he hurried to the nearby emergency stairs.

  Sprinting down the four floors, he waited in a dark corner of the lobby as the older woman headed out of the hospital. Predictably she had her vehicle parked in a handicap zone directly in front of the doors.

  Lucas grimaced. A green Jag.

  He’d had a ridiculous suspicion that she would be driving a black SUV.

  Turning on his heel, he was on his way back to Mia’s room when he realized that Vicky Fontaine didn’t ask why he was there.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mia was done.

  Well and truly done.

  There was, after all, only so much testosterone a woman should have to endure.

  First had been the doctor who’d adamantly refused to release her from the hospital. He’d insisted that she be monitored for twenty-four hours, despite the fact that she’d felt fine once the drugs were out of her system.

  Then Max had stood a silent vigil outside the door to her room no matter how many times she pleaded for him to go to his hotel room and get some rest.

  Next up was Detective Cooper, who’d spent over an hour grilling her on the who, the what, and the why someone wanted to kill her. She understood it was his job, but it didn’t make the ordeal any more pleasant.

  Then Lucas had arrived to take her home. Only he hadn’t taken her to her home. Instead they’d driven to an elegant penthouse suite that overlooked the river.

  His argument was that her house was a crime scene, but she knew he wanted her in a place that had 24/7 security. No one could get into the expensive building without showing ID to a guard. It no doubt cost a fortune, but Mia leashed her annoyance at his arrogant assumption he had the right to dictate where she lived.

  She truly didn’t want to return to her house. At least not yet.

  So instead she’d walked through the large penthouse. A part of her grudgingly admired the soothing shades of gray and the two walls that were smoky glass from floor to ceiling. The kitchen was a chef’s dream and there were two separate suites with private bathrooms attached.

  Entering the largest of the bedrooms, she’d discovered Lucas had spent the night moving her clothing and personal items into the penthouse. She also discovered that his own belongings were tucked next to hers.

  Not very subtle.

  But when Lucas had dared to plant himself in front of her and flatly announce that she wasn’t allowed to attend Tony’s funeral, she’d reached her limit.

  Standing in the middle of the bedroom that shimmered in shades of silver and gray as the late morning sunlight angled through the window, Mia planted her hands on her hips. “What did you say?” she demanded, her words a warning that he’d just treaded on her last nerve.

  Lucas looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. His silky hair was ruffled, his jaw was shadowed wi
th whiskers, and there was a hint of weariness in his dark eyes. Still, he managed to look stunningly handsome.

  How was that fair?

  “I said you’re staying here,” he growled. “And that’s final.”

  Mia judged the distance between them. She was pretty sure he was close enough for her to give him a black eye.

  Then, with an effort, she resisted her more violent urges.

  “I’m going to the funeral and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she informed him.

  A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “I can handcuff you to the bed.”

  A ridiculous thrill of excitement clenched her stomach before she was sternly trying to squash it.

  “That’s not funny,” she muttered.

  “No, but it is tempting.” He stepped forward, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck as he studied her pale features. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine.” She slapped his hand away. She couldn’t think straight when he was touching her. It was hard enough when his eyes were smoldering with a heat that made her blood melt. “You’re not going to change the subject.”

  “Good.” Without warning his arms wrapped around her waist and with one tug he had her pressed against his body. “I prefer not to talk at all,” he rasped, lowering his head to bury his face in her hair.

  She grasped his upper arms, swallowing her sigh of pleasure. For the past twenty-four hours she’d been so chilled she feared she would never feel warm again. No doubt a combination of her overdose and flat-out fear. Now she felt her muscles ease as the scent and heat of him wrapped around her.

  “You’re trying to distract me,” she complained.

  His lips skimmed over her brow and down her cheek. “You scared me,” he admitted in a hoarse voice.

  There was no doubting his sincerity. She could feel it in the tension of his body, and the rapid beat of his heart.

  He’d truly believed she was going to die.

  “I told you, I’m fine,” she assured him.

  He shuddered, nipping at her lower lip. “When I saw you collapse I thought I’d lost you.” He pressed a hard, almost punishing kiss to her lips. “Christ.”

  She instinctively found herself trying to pull out of his tight grip. “Lucas,” she breathed.

  He gave her another kiss, this one softer . . . a gentle persuasion that made her shiver with anticipation.

  “Just let me hold you,” he huskily pleaded against her lips.

  Silence filled the vast suite as he stroked his mouth over her cheek and down the curve of her neck. His touch was meant to be soothing, but as they stood in the middle of the room, Mia was acutely aware of the nearby bed. And just how much she wanted him to spread her over the silver comforter and make her forget the fact that someone was trying to kill her. The same someone who’d already murdered her friend.

  And if it’d just been sex she might have given in to the impulse. She’d had one hell of a week. Why not enjoy a few hours of consensual pleasure?

  But she could never have “just sex” with Lucas.

  That was the reason she’d scrambled out of bed . . . when was it? Yesterday morning. God, it felt like a lifetime. And why she’d locked the door to the shower.

  Just one night in his arms had already stirred up the emotions that she thought were buried and dead fifteen years ago.

  With a sudden motion she was pulling out of his arms, a sharp pang of regret slicing through her.

  “I truly am fine,” she forced herself to say, her chin tilting. “And I am going to the funeral.”

  The sinful warmth was leeched from his eyes as he studied her obstinate expression. “Someone just tried to kill you,” he growled. “Or have you forgotten?”

  She flinched. “Of course I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Then don’t fight me on this.” His breath hissed through his clenched teeth. “I need to know you’re safe.”

  “You expect me to hide in this place until they catch Tony’s murderer?”

  His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  “It could take days or weeks.” She gave a frustrated shake of her head. “This case might never be solved.”

  He held her gaze, the force of his sheer willpower sizzling through the air. “We’re going to catch whoever tried to poison you,” he said. “I promise.”

  Mia grimaced. She knew that she was making this more difficult for him. For whatever reason, Lucas had proclaimed himself her protector. The fact that he considered he’d failed in his duty only intensified his need to keep her locked in a safe place.

  Unfortunately for him, the mere thought of spending day after day trapped in this penthouse suite, no matter how elegant, sent her into a panic attack.

  She not only had to keep herself busy, but she needed to feel as if she was a part of the investigation. It was her life in danger, after all.

  If she was forced to sit around twiddling her thumbs, she’d go crazy.

  “I can’t put my life on hold,” she said.

  “Mia—”

  “No.” She interrupted his protest. “I’ve agreed to stay here, but I won’t be a prisoner.”

  He heaved a rough sigh. “Have you always been so stubborn?”

  She arched a brow. He had the nerve to call her stubborn? He could write the book on pigheaded obstinacy.

  “Have you always been so bossy?” she countered.

  As if realizing he wasn’t going to win this battle, Lucas reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.

  “Fine.” He typed in a swift message. “I’ll have Max take you to the funeral.”

  She blinked. She’d assumed he would take her. Now she had to hide her disappointment.

  “You’re not going?”

  “Today is for Tony.” He ran his fingers over his unshaven cheek. “Having a St. Clair attending the funeral would be an unnecessary distraction,” he said. Mia wrinkled her nose, knowing he was right. Tony’s family were simple people who would be self-conscious at having Lucas around. “I’ll go to his graveside later to pay my respects,” he promised.

  She nodded, studying his beautiful face that was lined with weariness. He clearly needed to spend a few hours in bed, but she didn’t believe for a second that he was going to stay home and take a nap.

  “And you have other plans?” she demanded.

  He shrugged. “I have a few things I want to check out.”

  “What?”

  He turned to walk toward the closet, pulling out his leather jacket. “We’ll discuss it over dinner.”

  Mia narrowed her gaze as she watched him smooth back his hair. “You’re hiding something from me.”

  He turned to study her with a lift of his brows. “Don’t you need to get ready?”

  She did. She needed to take a shower and tame her hair before finding something to wear. But she couldn’t help but worry that Lucas intended to do something dangerous.

  “We’re supposed to be partners,” she reminded him.

  He headed across the room. “We are. I promise we’ll talk later. Max will be here to take you to the funeral in half an hour.” He halted at the door, turning to send her a last warning. “Be careful.”

  Mia bit her lip, fear clenching her heart. “Lucas.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you get yourself hurt I’m not going to be happy.”

  There was a long, tense silence. Then, without warning Lucas was stalking back across the carpet and yanking her into his arms. Mia parted her lips in shock, unprepared for his fierce kiss that stole her breath and made her knees weak.

  Clutching the lapels of his jacket, Mia felt her entire body dissolve beneath the scalding pleasure of his touch.

  “I love you too,” he murmured against her yielding lips.

  Mia froze. Did he really just say the L word?

  Before she could process what’d just happened, Lucas released her and was heading out of the room. She was still standing in the center of the floor when she heard the outer door close.

>   What the hell had just happened?

  Had Lucas truly just confessed that he loved her? Or had he been teasing her to try and make her forget about her concern for his safety?

  And if he was sincere, how did that make her feel?

  She truly didn’t know.

  Joyous? Terrified? An intoxicating combination of the two?

  With a shake of her head, Mia forced herself to concentrate on preparing for the funeral. Lucas had been right about one thing. Today was for Tony. She would worry about everything else after the funeral.

  Taking a quick shower, Mia tucked her hair into a tidy knot at her nape and pulled on a black skirt and matching jacket. She took time to cover her pale face with makeup. It was inevitable that people would know she’d gone to the hospital, but she didn’t want to attract unwanted attention by showing up looking like she was on death’s door.

  Precisely half an hour later she pulled open the door to the penthouse, not surprised to discover an unknown man standing beside the door. Lucas wouldn’t have left her alone without making sure the penthouse was being watched by someone he’d personally hired.

  She was equally unsurprised to catch sight of Max casually leaning against the wall near the elevators.

  Although he couldn’t have had much sleep, he looked edible in his gray slacks and dark cashmere sweater. His blond hair was smoothed from the square face that was more compelling than traditionally handsome, and his gray eyes darkened to smoke in the muted overhead light.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She drew in a deep breath. Tony’s death didn’t seem real, which was only going to make the day more difficult. But she couldn’t hide in her penthouse and wish Tony was still alive.

  This had to be done.

  “Yes.”

  In silence they entered the elevator and rode down to the black-and-gold lobby. Crossing the marble floor, they waited for the uniformed guard to pull open the door.

  Max hesitated, glancing up and down the quiet street before placing a hand on her lower back and escorting her to the waiting silver SUV.

  Mia resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the sensation of being in a James Bond movie. It all felt so ridiculously unnecessary. Guarded doors. Companions with guns strapped to various parts of their bodies . . .