Kill Without Shame

  She licked her dry lips. “No, but it had to be within the last few weeks.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “The construction on this building wasn’t finished until the end of October.”

  Cooper tucked away the photocopy and scribbled in his notepad.

  “Was Tony angry that you fired him?”

  “Not really.” Mia abruptly stiffened, belatedly realizing what the man was asking. “Wait. You can’t think that Tony wanted to hurt me?”

  “It’s one possibility.”

  “Enough.” This time there was no mistaking the authority in Lucas’s tone. “Any further questions will be asked in the presence of a lawyer.”

  The detective flashed Lucas a glare of frustration before sliding his pen and paper in his pocket and pulling out a business card. Then, smoothing his expression, he cast Mia a reassuring smile.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he murmured, handing her the card with his name and number printed on it. “Call me if you think of anything, no matter how small. You’d be surprised how many cases have been solved by a clue that was initially dismissed as inconsequential.”

  “You don’t think he was killed because of a drug deal?” she demanded, unable to imagine Tony involved in anything more sinister than an encounter with a pissed-off junkie.

  Her old friend might have been a burnout who’d wasted what little potential he’d possessed as a jock, but he’d never been involved in serious crime.

  “I like to keep an open mind,” Detective Cooper said in noncommittal tones, giving a nod of his head. “Ms. Ramon. St. Clair.”

  She was vaguely aware of the detective leaving the office, and even the fact that Lucas was staring at her with an increasing concern, but she was lost in a heavy sadness.

  Poor Tony. He’d come from a crappy family who’d barely noticed he was alive unless he was on the football field. He’d never managed to find a purpose in life. Or at least, none that he’d shared with her.

  For the first time, she realized just how private Tony had been.

  Oh, he was always up for a party, but he’d never truly shared his thoughts or feelings. She didn’t know any more about him than she had when they were both six years old.

  “Mia?” Grabbing her by the shoulders, Lucas turned her to meet his worried gaze. “Talk to me.”

  With an effort, she pulled herself out of the dark hole that threatened to suck her in.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” she said, forcing herself to concentrate on the questions buzzing at the edge of her mind. She couldn’t change her friend’s death, but maybe she could help catch whoever was responsible. And at the same time, figure out who the hell had written that horrible message on her photo. “Why was Tony in Houston? And why did he have a picture of me?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I promise I’ll find out.”

  She stilled, studying his grim expression. “You said you weren’t working for the cops.”

  “I’m not.” A fierce smile curved his lips. “I’m better.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I see you haven’t lost any of your arrogance,” she muttered.

  “It’s not arrogance, it’s fact.”

  Stepping back, he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, extracting a gold-embossed business card he pressed into her hand.

  Mia read the elegant lettering with a lift of her brows. “ARES Security?”

  “It’s a company I started with a few friends. Trust me. We have the expertise and technology to find out exactly what Tony was doing.”

  Mia’s lips parted to demand what had happened to his career as a diplomat, only to hastily swallow the words. There was no way in hell she was going to reveal her seething interest in what he’d been doing since he’d returned from the Middle East.

  He’d cut her out of his life.

  So be it.

  “Why?” she instead demanded.

  His brooding gaze slid down to the stubborn tilt of her chin. “What do you mean?”

  “What’s your interest in any of this?”

  “Tony was coming to see me,” he said. “I want to know why.”

  “And that’s the only reason?”

  “No.” Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hands. “I’m here for you, Mia.”

  * * *

  ARES Security had chosen to open their business in a newly constructed office building in an upscale Houston neighborhood. The faded redbrick building with large windows and ornamental molding looked more suited for a financial service. Or a law firm.

  But Lucas had wisely argued that the sort of customers who would be able to afford their highly exclusive services would be comforted by the feel of Old World charm.

  It was a theme that was carried through the large reception area and front offices. The carpets were plush ivory, the walls were darkly paneled, and the furniture made of sturdy wood with crimson cushions. The hushed atmosphere, however, was decidedly absent on the top two floors. The second floor was dedicated to the high-tech lab where Max Grayson worked his forensic magic. The top floor had been claimed by Teagan.

  Unlike Max, who liked to work in brightly lit rooms with white tiled floors, Teagan preferred to keep the curtains pulled to protect his equipment. The series of darkened offices were filled with sleek computers, four separate servers, and a line of monitors that kept constant watch on the companies that hired them, as well as the area around their building.

  They were still hoping to catch the bastard who was leaving Hauk threatening notes.

  At the moment, Teagan was settled behind his massive desk, wearing a Henley that was tucked into a worn pair of fatigue pants, and his feet were covered by a pair of motorcycle boots.

  Entering the office, Max gave a slight shake of his head at the sight of the empty pizza boxes tossed in a corner and the garbage can filled with beer bottles. No one, not even the cleaning staff, was allowed in Teagan’s private space.

  Period.

  Teagan ignored his friend’s expression of disapproval.

  Max was a neat freak who bordered on OCD. Thankfully, he was also a brilliant forensic whiz who was constantly being badgered by the FBI to join their lab at Quantico. The feds didn’t seem to care that Max’s parents were currently lodged in prison for a Ponzi scheme that’d earned them millions of dollars before they were caught.

  Teagan didn’t care either. Hell, his own father spent more time behind bars than on the street.

  Max strolled toward the desk. Over six feet, he carried himself with a military bearing that was emphasized by his crisp white shirt and black slacks. His dark blond hair was cut short and brushed away from his chiseled face. His gray eyes were rimmed with black and were unnervingly piercing as they rested on Teagan’s face, reminding Teagan that he needed a shave after his long night.

  “What are you doing here?” Teagan demanded.

  His friend shrugged. “Hauk was busy with a client when he got your message.”

  Teagan frowned. Max was supposed to be clearing up his backlog of work so he could spend Christmas in Switzerland enjoying a long overdue vacation.

  “No, I meant what are you doing out of your lab?” Teagan asked. “You only have a week before you take off.”

  “I cancelled my trip when I heard that Lucas might need our help.”

  Boom.

  That was it.

  Someone needed him, so Max was there.

  It was the foundation of their friendship. And what’d drawn them together to open ARES Security.

  The time together in the Taliban prison had been the starting point, but that was only a small part of why they’d connected to form a family.

  “Lucas is going to kick your ass when he finds out,” Teagan warned.

  Max settled on the edge of the desk, his attention shifting to Teagan’s computer. “Tell me what you’ve got.”

  Teagan didn’t bother to argue. Max was calm, methodical, and stubborn as hell. Like a bulldog with a bone.

  He tur
ned the monitor so Max could see the birth certificate he pulled up.

  “Anthony Gerald Hughes. Thirty-three years old. Born and raised in Caddo Parish.” He clicked the mouse, pulling up a new screen. “Goes by the name Tony. The youngest of five boys. His father was a roughneck on an oil rig until he was injured on the job when Tony was ten years old. The seven of them survived on disability checks and whatever the boys could poach in the swamps.”

  Max leaned forward. “Abuse?”

  “More neglect,” Teagan said. He’d done a thorough check of all local hospitals and free clinics to see if there was a pattern of broken bones or mysterious injuries. “The boys ran wild, but there was no record of violence.”

  “Were they in trouble?”

  “Petty shit.” Another click of the mouse to pull up Tony’s rap sheet. “Trespassing, theft, recreational drugs. Nothing that earned them more than a few days in jail.”

  Max grimaced. They’d all hoped there would be a criminal link between Tony and his killer that would be easy to follow.

  “Did you find any connection to Houston?”

  “None.” Teagan leaned back in his chair, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. He needed to go home so he could shower and shave, but first he wanted to pass on what he’d learned. He didn’t doubt that Lucas would be calling for an update. “His car was found less than a block from his body.”

  “North or south.”

  “North.”

  Max gave a slow nod, his razor-sharp brain easily focusing on the pertinent revelation. “So if he was coming to speak with Lucas, then he must have arrived before four o’clock or he would have parked closer to the office,” he murmured.

  Teagan smiled. They’d all learned during the past months that parking was a premium in the neighborhood. If you didn’t arrive early you would be leaving your car in one of the community lots that were blocks away.

  “There’s no formal time of death yet,” Teagan added. He didn’t mention that he’d hacked into the Houston coroner’s office to see if there’d been a report issued. Sometimes his friends weren’t as willing to bend the rules as he was. “But I talked with a cabbie who did a pickup just down the street at three. He didn’t see anything then.”

  Max nodded. “So after three and before four.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Any security cameras?”

  “Nothing that I could locate.” Teagan shook his head in disgust. Tony had been shot in front of an expensive dress shop and a home decor firm. They both had cameras inside, but nothing aimed at the street. Worse, there wasn’t a damned ATM within three blocks. “I’m running a trace now on both Tony Hughes and any other murders in the area. I’ll have more tomorrow.”

  Max nodded, far more patient than Teagan. “What about the woman?”

  “Ah.” Teagan leaned forward to click on the mouse. Suddenly the image of a dark-haired beauty with soft brown eyes and proud features filled the screen. “Meet Mia Ramon.”

  Max released a low whistle. “Nice.”

  Teagan nodded in agreement. Mia was more than just a pretty face. There was a compelling sensuality in her features that promised all sorts of sinful pleasure.

  “She’s the daughter of George Ramon, the St. Clair family’s gardener,” he told his companion. “Now she runs her own landscaping business.”

  “Beautiful and smart.” Max glanced toward Teagan. “Married?”

  “Nope.”

  Max’s lips twitched. Of course they were sorry as hell that Lucas’s old friend was dead, but they were all fascinated by his reaction to the picture of Mia Ramon.

  Lucas was always cool and in control under pressure. The perfect diplomat. They’d never seen him so rattled.

  Certainly not when it came to a woman.

  “Interesting,” Max murmured. Then, folding his arms over his chest, he was all business. “Anyone want her dead?”

  Teagan shook his head. His background check hadn’t finished running, but he’d learned enough to know that Mia Ramon wasn’t the sort of woman to attract enemies.

  “She hasn’t filed any restraining orders and the only employee she fired was Tony,” he said. It would take time to finish his search on the employees, but no one stuck out as a potential suspect.

  “Any family drama?” Max asked.

  “Not the kind you mean,” Teagan said. Teagan and Max were both casualties of “family drama.” “Her mother died when she was ten. No siblings. At sixteen she started dating Lucas. He was her first serious boyfriend.”

  Max arched a brow. He didn’t ask how Teagan had uncovered the information about her relationship with Lucas.

  Wise. His hacking skills had once again come in handy.

  “Does she work with her father?” Max instead asked.

  Teagan shook his head. “He died a little over six months ago from cirrhosis.”

  “An alcoholic?”

  “Most likely,” Teagan said. His background search on George Ramon had been harder than expected.

  The older man had been a legal immigrant, but he’d clearly distrusted the government and lived off the grid as much as possible.

  That included avoiding hospitals and any doctor office that would have kept a record of his medical history.

  “Did he owe anyone money?”

  Teagan grimaced. Financial institutions were another thing that George Ramon shunned. He ran a cash gardening business that managed to elude the IRS, and he’d clearly bought his property without taking a loan.

  “I’m still trying to unravel the money trail,” he said.

  Max grimaced, his gaze returning to the image of Mia. “Being raised by an alcoholic father, with no mother, must have been tough on a young girl.”

  Teagan nodded. Mia had used the hurdles life placed in her path as stepping stones to success instead of an excuse to fail.

  “She didn’t let it halt her,” he said. “She started helping her father when she was just a kid, and by the time she was a teenager she was working almost full-time.”

  Max smiled. “I would have hired her to trim my hedges.”

  “No shit.” Teagan easily understood Lucas’s continued attraction toward the woman, although there was no obvious explanation for why he’d ever left her. “At the age of twenty-one she’d taken over her father’s customers and expanded to hire two extra employees. When she was twenty-seven she expanded again to purchase equipment and a large plot of land on the northern edge of Bossier City. She also hired three more employees.”

  “Damn.” Max arched a brow, looking suitably impressed. “Clearly she has a talent for business.”

  Teagan smiled, about to get to the good part. He’d been itching for hours to share what he’d discovered.

  “She does, but she had trouble acquiring a loan for her rapid growth from a traditional bank.”

  “Did she?” Max shifted his attention to Teagan, sensing his amusement. “I assume she managed to get her money from another source?”

  Teagan handed his companion a sheet of paper he’d printed off around four in the morning.

  “Shreveport Development Center approached her with an open line of credit.”

  Max frowned as he studied the copy of what looked like an official pamphlet.

  “A government program?”

  “That’s what I assumed. Turns out it’s a shell company.”

  Max stilled. A shell company always meant there was something dodgy going on.

  “Do you know who set it up?”

  “I do.” Teagan’s smile widened.

  “Who?”

  “Lucas St. Clair.”

  Chapter Four

  Taylor Price had done her best to squash her motherly instinct to hover over Mia. Her friend had shared what little information she knew about Tony’s death and the fact that he’d been clutching her picture in his hand, with a threat written on it. But she’d clearly not been in the mood to dwell on the tragedy.

  Or the fact that the man who’
d broken her heart was suddenly back in town.

  Taylor had respected Mia’s desire to concentrate on work, but by five o’clock she was done pretending that this was just another day.

  Clearing her desk, she headed into Mia’s office, finding her friend staring at the computer, although it was obvious that her thoughts were miles away.

  “Are you okay?” Taylor asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb.

  Mia jerked her head up, revealing the pallor of her face. “Yeah.” She grimaced at Taylor’s look of disbelief. “No,” she ruefully admitted. “But I will be.”

  Taylor believed her. Mia had endured the death of her mother, the abandonment of the boyfriend who’d claimed to love her, and a father who’d retreated into a bottle to avoid life. And still she’d come out on top.

  “Can I get you anything?” Taylor offered. “Coffee? Tea? A shot of bourbon?”

  Mia leaned back in her chair. “I might borrow your stun gun.”

  “Good choice,” Taylor said in approving tones, not at all opposed to the thought of the arrogant Lucas St. Clair taking a few volts to the ass. Then she abruptly sighed as she recalled the reason the man had returned to town. “Tony. God.” She gave a shake of her head. She’d never been as close to Tony as Mia, but it was still painful to think of him being shot to death. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I know what you mean.” Mia shoved her fingers through her hair, her hand not entirely steady. “I wish I knew what he was doing in Houston.”

  “And why he had your picture.” Taylor felt a shiver inch down her spine. She was genuinely worried for her friend. “I hate to admit it, but I’m glad that Lucas is back in town.”

  Mia blinked in surprise. “I thought you wanted him castrated?”

  “I do.” Taylor felt a pang of guilt. When Lucas had left Shreveport fifteen years ago she’d been so wrapped up in her own miserable relationship she hadn’t been able to offer Mia the support she should have. Now she intended to do everything in her power to help her friend. “He was a lowlife bastard who broke your heart. But if he has the skill to keep you safe, then he has my full approval.”

  Mia grunted. “I just want him to stay the hell away from me.”