Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how stifled he’d felt over the past few weeks.
It might have been a reaction to the adrenaline rush they’d all experienced when Rafe had faced off against a serial killer. Or maybe it was some lingering PTSD symptom.
Or, more likely, it was his inner need to be constantly occupied.
His childhood had been a chaotic mess. Even before his parents had been charged with investment fraud, they’d hauled him from town to town, their flamboyant lifestyle matching their temperamental natures. He’d existed in a war zone long before he’d ever joined the military.
In response, he’d developed a calm, cool, and always logical approach to his days. It was the only way to feel in command of his life. Unfortunately, in an effort to maintain that facade of control, he had to stay constantly busy.
“I’ll go,” he offered, as they reached Teagan’s recently remodeled ’69 Camaro Z28.
Teagan shook his head. “No need. I got this.”
“You’re more use in the office,” Max pointed out. “I finished up the last of my reports for our clients yesterday.” He’d been working around the clock to make sure his desk was clear for his vacation. “Until we get forensic evidence from Lucas to test I’m just sitting around with my thumb up my ass.”
Teagan arched a brow. “Aren’t you working on the shit we’ve collected on Hauk’s stalker?”
A familiar sense of frustration twisted his gut. “I’ve done all I can. Which isn’t much.” He’d gone over the threatening notes a hundred times. “But for now all I can say is that the paper came from Turkey and that whoever wrote the messages was smart enough to wear gloves. No fingerprints, no spit, no sweat, no stray DNA . . .” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Nada.”
“What about the satellite image?”
Max shrugged. “Anyone could have pulled it off Google. And whoever hired the courier company to deliver it to the office used a stolen credit card.”
Teagan grimaced. The computer whiz had run into his own difficulties trying to trace surveillance cameras in the hope of spotting the stalker.
“The bastard is clever.”
“Or watches CSI,” Max said in dry tones.
“True.” The dark eyes narrowed. “Eventually the son of a bitch is going to get sloppy.”
Max nodded. “Until then, you concentrate on playing your computer games and I’ll go watch Lucas’s ass.”
Perhaps sensing Max’s need to get out and do something, Teagan flashed a mocking grin. “I think he’d prefer the beautiful Mia watch his ass, but hey . . .” He reached up to punch Max in the shoulder. “Knock yourself out.”
* * *
Lucas was up and dressed long before the sun rose. Not tough to do when he’d spent the night tossing and turning.
His restless night had nothing to do with the narrow bed in Mia’s spare room. He’d slept on worse. No, his insomnia was entirely due to the knowledge that she was lying only a few feet away, wearing nothing more than that scrap of lace he’d seen in her room when he’d done his sweep.
Christ, the tiny negligee would cling to her with a mouthwatering perfection. The soft, rose-tipped breasts. The narrow waist. The lush ass.
His body felt fevered, burning up one minute and shivering with hunger the next. And worse, the walls were so thin he could hear each time she shifted on her mattress.
No, wait. Nothing was worse than the fact that the very air was saturated with her feminine scent. With every breath she seemed to seep deeper beneath his skin.
But even as he envisioned the pleasure of breaking down the thin wall and dragging her into his arms, he’d recalled her barely concealed frustration when she’d led him to his room.
She might hate him, but she wasn’t stupid.
The lurker had spooked her enough to make her accept she needed his protection.
That didn’t mean, however, that she had to like it.
Or that she was going to do anything in her power to make him feel he was a welcomed guest.
Thankfully, at six o’clock he’d received a text from Max saying that he was waiting for him in front of the house.
Slipping out the back door, he joined his friend long enough to tell him to keep an eye on Mia before he headed out. He needed time to clear his brain, which was clogged with lustful images.
Last night had only solidified his belief that Mia was in danger. Shit, if he hadn’t been there . . .
With a shudder he slid into his car and revved up the powerful engine. He needed to get his damned head in the game.
Confident that Max would do whatever necessary to protect Mia, Lucas drove around the neighborhood, looking for any sign of a black SUV. Then, stopping by her office, he punched in the alarm code he’d stolen from her phone that she’d left on the table, and easily dealt with the locks.
A quick sweep ensured that the place was empty and that there weren’t any hidden bugs or cameras that could be used to spy on Mia. Well, except for the camera that he installed in the corner of her office. He’d tell her about it later.
Much later.
Once he was finished he slipped out and reset the alarm. Then, returning to his car, he headed across the bridge into Shreveport.
Parking in front of the Caddo Parish Sheriff’s Office, he glanced at his watch. Seven o’clock. He climbed out of his car and headed toward the small diner across the street.
Detective Cooper struck him as a creature of habit.
For most cops that meant a cup of coffee and breakfast to start the day. It was usually the only meal they didn’t have to eat on the run.
He pushed open the glass door and stepped inside, instantly hit by the scent of coffee and bacon grease.
Clearly the diner had seen better days. There were half a dozen tables spread across a cracked linoleum floor, with a long counter at the back that had an open view of the kitchen. Two aging waitresses tended to the handful of customers, their pace slow but efficient.
Lucas smiled as he caught sight of the man wearing a dark suit and brown shoes sitting in the corner. If ever a man needed a wife it was Detective Cooper. Not only did he need someone to coordinate his suit and shoes, but he’d left his house with a dollop of shaving cream just below his ear.
Walking forward, Lucas waved away the waitress and took a seat across the table from the lawman.
Cooper remained intent on his breakfast, proving he’d been aware of Lucas since he’d entered the diner. Or maybe from the minute he’d parked in front of the station. It wasn’t like his Porsche was made for stealth.
Reaching for the Tabasco sauce, Cooper shook a few drops on his scrambled eggs.
“How did you find me?” he demanded.
“It’s the closest restaurant to your office,” Lucas said.
Cooper at last glanced up, his eyes hard with suspicion. “And how did you know that I don’t eat breakfast at home?”
Lucas shrugged. It seemed best not to pass along the info that Teagan had done a thorough background check on the detective that revealed he didn’t have a wife or kids. Which made it easy to assume he wasn’t spending a lot of time in his kitchen.
“Lucky guess.”
The detective’s lips flattened. Was he thinking about the gun that was holstered at his side?
Clearly deciding he couldn’t shoot a civilian, even if he was interrupting his breakfast, Cooper sat back in his seat.
“What do you want?”
Lucas got straight to the point. “There was an intruder at Mia’s house last night.”
“Intruder?” Cooper stilled. “Did you get a look at him?”
“No. We were standing in the kitchen when we heard footsteps on the back porch.” Lucas didn’t try to hide his frustration. “By the time I managed to get around the house, the person was running through the hedges. I lost sight of them.”
Cooper’s expression was impossible to read. “Person.”
“Yeah, person.”
“You’re n
ot sure if it was a man or woman?”
Lucas arched a brow. The detective was sharp. Until he’d pointed it out, Lucas hadn’t realized his mind had hesitated to place a gender on the intruder.
“No. I just caught a glimpse,” he admitted. “It could have been anyone.”
“Did you hear a car?”
“No, but I didn’t stay outside for long.”
Cooper narrowed his eyes. “I assume you called it in?”
“Call what in?” Lucas snapped. His temper was on a short leash. “A dark figure darting through the hedge?”
Cooper studied him in silence, processing the information.
“Then why are you sharing it with me?” he at last demanded.
Lucas scowled. “Because we both know she’s in danger.”
“We don’t know anything beyond the fact that the victim was holding her picture.”
Lucas surged to his feet. Enough. He didn’t have time to play power games with the man.
“Fine.”
He was walking away when Cooper called out. “St. Clair.”
Halting, Lucas glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
The detective’s bulldog face was hard with warning. “I can’t stop you from staying in town, but if I catch you poking your nose in my investigation we’re going to have words.”
Lucas made a sound of impatience. “Let’s not play games, Detective. We both know the only reason you’re on this case is because a St. Clair is involved.”
The man’s expression hardened. “What’s your point?”
“Let me make it easy for you. You’ve done a background search on me, so you know I have resources that can help.” His lips twisted. “Not to mention the fact I don’t have to follow the same rules that you do.”
“That’s my point,” Cooper growled. “If you go rogue there’s a good chance you’ll do something stupid that will either screw up any hope of prosecuting the perp, or worse, spook him into fleeing.”
Somewhere inside, Lucas knew the man was just trying to do his job, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to grab him out of the chair and give him a shake.
Mia was in danger. That’s all he cared about.
“I don’t know what you mean by going rogue, but I do intend to do whatever necessary to protect Mia,” he stated in firm tones. “Period.”
Cooper glanced toward the window, where a light drizzle had started to dampen the streets. “Shouldn’t you be doing that right now?”
Lucas shrugged. “I have a friend keeping an eye on her.”
“Shit.” Cooper grimaced. “Another one of you?”
“You’re going to love Max,” he taunted, giving the detective a wink before heading out of the diner.
He shivered at the cold rain that smacked him in the face, jogging across the street to crawl into his car and flip on the heater. Then, without hesitation, he pulled away from the curb and headed back to Bossier City.
He’d done what he wanted. The authorities would soon be aware that Mia was at risk. No matter what Detective Cooper might say, the lawman would consider it his duty to insist that the police department do a few drive-bys to check on Mia.
The more eyes keeping track of her, the better.
Stopping once to pick up coffee and Max’s bran muffins that looked like horse food to Lucas, he drove to Mia’s office and parked. Then, climbing into Max’s silver SUV, he took one of the coffees and handed the bag to his friend.
“Anything?” he asked, his gaze locked on the window that gave him a shadowed view of Mia seated at her desk.
Max leaned against the door, his smile wry. “A few lethal glares from your woman in the rearview mirror on the drive here, but nothing since she went inside.”
“No black SUV?”
Max nodded toward the main road. “A few that passed by, but none that parked in the area.”
Lucas sipped his coffee. He’d known it was too much to hope that the vehicle would follow Mia so they could get a plate number.
Still, not all criminals were the sharpest knives in the drawer.
Max demolished one of the muffins, his jaw shadowed with an early morning beard. He’d obviously driven all night to arrive in town at such an early hour. A knowledge that tightened something in Lucas’s chest.
“I didn’t have the opportunity to say it earlier, but thanks, man,” he said.
Max shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
“It is, but I hate like hell that I interfered in your plans.” Lucas studied his friend’s profile.
Max hadn’t shared his reason for traveling to Switzerland. Or whether he’d intended to travel there alone. And Lucas wasn’t about to ask.
The five men of ARES might be as close as brothers, but none of them pried into the intimate details of each other’s lives.
“Switzerland isn’t going anywhere,” Max said, his expression impossible to read. “I can reschedule for the new year.”
Accepting that the subject was closed, Lucas slipped his hand into his pocket to pull out a thin card. “Here’s the key to my hotel room.” He tossed the card onto the dash. “I’ll stop by later to get my stuff.”
Max glanced, nodding toward the window where Mia was currently standing, her arms folded over her chest as she glared at the two men.
“Are you sure you want to stay in the same house with a woman who looks like she’s contemplating the pleasure of slicing off your balls?”
Lucas felt excitement jolt through him at the sight of her dark, sultry beauty. Even giving him the stink-eye, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in fifteen years.
“She can’t stay mad forever,” he murmured.
Max snorted. “You don’t know much about women.”
Lucas couldn’t argue. There’d been a few relationships since Mia, but they’d been too transitory to give him much insight into the female brain.
He’d told himself he was too focused on his career to make room for a woman in his life. Now he knew he’d been waiting for the right woman.
“I know Mia,” he said with utter confidence.
Eating another muffin, Max took a sip of his coffee. “Just how well do you know her?”
“We dated in high school.”
“And that’s it?”
Lucas hesitated. He’d never been comfortable talking about his feelings. The St. Clairs were very much a family of stiff upper lips. But if he hoped to change things this time around, then he’d have to learn to . . . what was the word?
Share?
Some shit like that.
“No. I loved her,” he admitted. “I still love her.”
Max cleared his throat, as if astonished by the sudden heart-to-heart. Lucas smiled wryly. His friend wasn’t the only one shocked.
“Then what went wrong?”
“The St. Clair curse.”
“I’m sorry, man. Hit you kind of young, didn’t it?” Max drawled, a teasing glint in his gray eyes. “Still, they have little blue pills that can help . . . ow.” Max rubbed his shoulder where Lucas slugged him.
“Not that kind of curse, you prick.”
Max’s smile faded, his expression suddenly somber. “Tell me what happened.”
Lucas’s gaze moved to the battered pickup that pulled into the lot, closely followed by a car. Both vehicles drove past the office to the sheds at the back.
It was clearly time to start the workday at Ramon Landscaping.
“My family is . . .” His words trailed away as he tried to find a polite way of describing his parents.
Max released a short, humorless laugh. “Hey, my family is currently residing in prison. No judgment.”
Lucas nodded, his gaze monitoring the next car that pulled in the lot and headed toward the back. Until he was familiar with the employees, he intended to consider each of them a threat.
“My father’s a cold, distant bastard who barely acknowledged that he had children unless it was to express his deep disappointment in us,” he at last said. “My mot
her plays the perfect Stepford wife, aided by large doses of Prozac. And my older brother shot himself to escape the expectations that were dumped on him from the day he was born.”
Max sucked in a shocked breath. “Shit, man. I didn’t know that about your brother. I’m sorry.”
Lucas was sorry too. Not only that his brother was dead. But that he’d been gone before Lucas ever had a chance to get to know him.
“I hate to say it, but I barely remember him. He was ten years older than me.” Lucas had a vague memory of the house being shrouded and the servants speaking in whispers. Then his father had led him into his private office that no one was ever allowed to enter so he could explain Lucas’s role as the new St. Clair heir. “I had just turned five, but I was quickly taught that I was expected to fill his shoes.”
Max nodded. No doubt he’d been groomed by his own parents to maintain a facade of a perfect family.
“And Mia Ramon didn’t meet your parents’ requirements as your future wife?”
Lucas rolled his eyes. His parents had been obscenely horrified when they discovered that their son was dating the gardener’s daughter. It was one thing to bang her in the backseat of his car. That’s what rich boys did with unsuitable girls. But to actually be seen in public with her had been unacceptable.
“Not even close, but that wasn’t the reason I walked away,” he said.
Max arched a brow. “Then why?”
A bittersweet emotion clenched his heart. Being near Mia had been like standing near a raging fire after being locked in ice for years.
“Mia was always so passionate. So full of life. Like a beautiful red rose blooming in a field of white lilies.”
“That’s very”—Max cleared his throat—“poetic.”
Lucas shrugged. Mia made him feel poetic. His friends were just going to have to suck it up.
“There was no way in hell I was going to watch her become an emotional zombie like my mother,” he continued.
Max studied his grim expression. “What made you assume that’s what was going to happen?”
“I could already see Mia trying to change to please my parents. She bought new clothes and cut that glorious hair after my darling mother informed her that she looked like a homeless gypsy.” He shuddered at the memory of watching her walk toward him with her bland beige dress and her hair chopped off. Suddenly she hadn’t been his warm bundle of sunshine. Instead she’d been . . . muted. The knowledge he was responsible for the change in her had run like acid through his veins. “And that would only have been the beginning,” he muttered.