Kill Without Shame Read online

  “I’m really not that hungry.”

  He gave her fingers a small squeeze. “Indulge me. I get tired of eating alone.”

  Her heart lurched. Although she had her son and mother, she understood being lonely.

  “You’re not married?”

  “Nope.” With a last squeeze of her fingers he sat back in his seat, thankfully acting as if he was unaware that she was blatantly fishing for his relationship status. “Not now, not ever.”

  “A confirmed bachelor?” she asked.

  “Not by choice,” he instantly informed her. “I’ve always wanted a wife and family.”

  Her heart missed a beat. Was he serious?

  “Really?”

  He held her gaze. “It’s true. Unfortunately not many women want a husband who is a detective.”

  “I can’t imagine why not,” she said before she could halt the words.

  They were true, after all.

  This was the sort of man whom women wanted in their lives after they’d gotten over the whole “bad boy” phase.

  “My hours are crappy. My pay is even crappier.” He shared a teasing grin. “It might help if I looked like Charlie Hunnam, but I’m not delusional enough to think that’s ever going to happen.”

  Once again her words slipped out before she could halt them. “A woman who loved you wouldn’t care about any of those things.”

  Their gazes tangled, the noisy diner briefly fading away as a dangerous awareness pulsed between them.

  “You give me hope,” he said, a fierce intensity in the words.

  Taylor instinctively scuttled back behind her safe, emotional shields. Hope was a dangerous, dangerous temptation that she couldn’t afford.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I called,” she said in firm tones.

  “I’m just glad you did.” Brian continued to hold her wary gaze until he turned to smile at the approaching waitress. “Two of your specials and another coffee,” he ordered.

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “You don’t listen very well for a cop.”

  He shrugged. “Another failing, I’m afraid.”

  A part of her wanted to be annoyed. She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed a man to tell her what she should or shouldn’t want.

  In fact, her independence had run off more than one date by the end of the night. That and the fact she had a teenage son and dependent mother waiting for her at home.

  She swallowed a sigh.

  “Do you want to know why I wanted to get together or not?” she demanded.

  He sipped his coffee. “Tell me.”

  Laying her palms flat against the table, Taylor silently organized her scattered thoughts before she spoke. Her awkward flirtations with this man might be meaningless, but she was dead serious about keeping Mia safe.

  “I’ve been trying to remember anything that struck me as odd about Tony.”

  Brian was instantly all business. “You thought of something?”

  She wrinkled her nose, understanding that it was a long shot.

  “It’s probably nothing, but I stopped by his condo after Mia fired him,” she said.

  “Was there a particular reason?”

  “I delivered his last paycheck so he wouldn’t have a reason to come back to the office.” She grimaced. “Mia felt awful that she had to tell him he couldn’t work for her anymore. They’d been friends since they were both in grade school.” She accepted the cup of coffee the distracted waitress set in front of her before hurrying off to another table. “I didn’t want him to pester her.”

  Brian studied her with an odd expression. “Does she know how lucky she is to have you working for her?”

  “She’s not just my employer. She’s my friend.”

  “We should all have a friend like you.”

  Warmth spread through her heart as she poured a dollop of cream into her coffee. Did he sense how much pride she took in caring for those people she considered her family?

  The thought made her feel strangely vulnerable.

  “Anyway, when I arrived at Tony’s place he was already drunk as a skunk,” she continued in a gruff voice.

  She thought she heard him heave a faint sigh, but he didn’t press her.

  “From what I’ve heard about Anthony Hughes that wasn’t all that unusual,” he said.

  “No,” she agreed. “I don’t think Tony was an alcoholic, but he definitely used drugs and booze to self-medicate.”

  “What happened?”

  Taylor absently sipped her coffee, her mind drifting back to the brief confrontation.

  “I wasn’t nearly as close to Tony as Mia was, but I felt sorry for him,” she said, giving a shake of her head. “When he opened the door he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was a weird shade of gray, and to be honest, I don’t think he’d had a bath in days.” She gave a small shudder. “I asked him if there was anything I could do to help.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked me if I had a time machine.”

  Brian arched a brow. “Time machine?”

  Taylor had been equally baffled by the strange words.

  “I assumed he wanted to go back in the past so he could make sure he didn’t get caught with weed in Mia’s truck.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  She nodded. The words had returned to her at five o’clock in the morning, waking her from a restless dream.

  “He said the body refused to stay buried.”

  Brian stilled, his attention fully captured. “What body?”

  “I asked him and he started to babble about vipers in his bed.” She lifted her hands. “I assumed he was too drunk to know what he was saying, so I left.”

  “A body that won’t stay buried and the desire to change the past,” Brian murmured, his expression distracted.

  “It’s probably meaningless.” Taylor wrinkled her nose, more than a little afraid she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Tony had said a lot of stupid things when he was drunk. “But I thought you should know,” she muttered lamely.

  Brian leaned forward, a smile that could melt the Arctic curling the edge of his lips. “I’m glad you came to me, Taylor.”

  Her heart skipped, abruptly reminding her of the danger of spending more time with this man.

  “I should be going, I—”

  Her words came to an abrupt end as he reached across the table to grab her hand.

  “Stay, Taylor,” he said in low tones. “Please.”

  * * *

  Lucas stomped out of the house, barely noticing the sharp chill that edged the early morning breeze. He should be feeling on top of the world. After fifteen long years, he at last had Mia back where she belonged.

  In his bed.

  What could be better?

  But instead of waking to find Mia snuggled in his arms so they could celebrate their reunion with a few hours of slow, delectable lovemaking, he’d opened his eyes to find himself alone.

  Hearing running water, he’d put aside his disappointment and headed out of the bedroom. He wasn’t opposed to starting the day by sharing a shower with Mia. In fact, the mere idea of their wet, naked bodies pressed together as the hot steam filled the room was enough to make him so hard he hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

  But even as he was wondering how long it would take to get Mia ready, he turned the doorknob only to discover it wouldn’t budge.

  Mia had locked him out.

  Frowning in disbelief, he’d rapped his knuckles on the door, not entirely surprised when Mia ignored his knocking.

  For a crazed minute he’d actually considered kicking down the door. Not because he was angry. Okay. He was a little angry. But because he couldn’t bear the knowledge she was once again trying to put walls between them.

  Dammit.

  Thankfully the sound of his phone buzzing managed to distract him long enough to regain command of his senses. Mia obviously didn’t want him to join her.


  He would only push her further away if he forced his way into her private space, he grimly told himself.

  So instead he walked back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and a cream cable-knit sweater. Then, shoving his feet into a pair of leather loafers, he headed out of the house.

  Max was waiting in his silver SUV, which was parked in the driveway. Climbing into the warmth of the vehicle, Lucas glowered at his friend’s freshly shaved face and hair that was still damp from his shower. He looked well-rested and as fresh as a fucking daisy.

  “Morning, sunshine,” the younger man murmured, his lips twitching at the dark whiskers that shadowed Lucas’s jaw and his dark hair that he hadn’t bothered to comb.

  “This had better be good,” Lucas warned.

  “You’re a little testy,” Max teased. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Lucas narrowed his gaze. When did his friend develop a death wish?

  “Do you want your face rearranged?” he asked.

  Max chuckled. “Easy, amigo.” He shifted in his seat to study Lucas’s tense expression. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Belatedly realizing that he was taking out his frustration on his friend, he gave a shake of his head.

  “No. It’s going to take patience. Something I have in short supply.” With an effort he forced himself to concentrate on the reason Max had texted him. A task that would be easier if he didn’t keep visualizing a warm, wet, naked Mia standing in the shower. “What did Teagan find?”

  “He did a background check on Carl Greene.”

  It took a minute for Lucas to connect the name to the next-door neighbor.

  “And?”

  Max glanced toward the small house that was only a few feet from Mia’s.

  “Greene worked on the docks loading and unloading barges until he was injured on the job,” he said. “Since then he’s been collecting disability.”

  “No criminal record?”

  Max turned his attention back to Lucas. “Nothing that stuck.”

  “He was suspected of a crime?”

  “His girlfriend claimed that he tried to run her over with his car.” Max shrugged. “Nothing was proven and she dropped the charges before it was ever investigated.”

  Lucas gave a low whistle. Was it just a coincidence that someone had tried to run Mia off the road?

  It was difficult to imagine what the man could hope to gain by hurting Mia. Maybe she’d shot down his advances. Or maybe he was just a garden-variety psycho who liked hurting women.

  It was worth finding out.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  Max grimaced. “Over the years, more than one neighbor has complained that he’s a creeper who likes to watch pretty women. Unfortunately, as long as he stays on his own property that isn’t a crime.”

  The mere thought of the man peeking at Mia made Lucas’s gut twist with fury. “It might not be a crime, but I’m sure I can convince him that it’s a habit that’s bad for his health,” he said in dark tones.

  “True.” Max allowed a humorless smile to curve his lips. “And if he doesn’t get the message the first time, I’d be happy to do my own convincing.”

  The men shared a glance of mutual understanding. They were born protectors who wouldn’t hesitate to punish a pervert who was bothering an innocent woman.

  Lucas made a mental note to visit Carl Greene before the day was over.

  “Is that all?”

  “The Houston PD is still waiting on the official autopsy, but Teagan managed to hack into the inventory that listed Tony’s belongings when he was shot.”

  For once Lucas didn’t consider the risk his friend had taken. Teagan was going to do what the hell he wanted to do.

  Besides, Lucas would willingly break any law if it kept Mia safe.

  “Was there anything interesting?”

  “Beyond his clothing he had a wallet that had almost fifty dollars in cash,” Max revealed.

  Lucas frowned. “So this wasn’t a robbery.”

  “It doesn’t look like it,” Max agreed. “Although there weren’t any credit cards.”

  “Hard to believe a mugger would take the cards and leave the cash,” Lucas muttered.

  Max grimaced. “I agree.”

  “Any drugs?”

  Max shook his head. “Nope. Not even a joint.”

  “Weapons?”

  “A small pocketknife.”

  “Anything else?”

  Max gave a lift of his shoulders. “Keys to his truck, the paper with your name and address, and the picture of your woman.”

  “Shit.” Lucas balled his hands into tight fists. When he’d gotten Max’s text he’d allowed himself to hope that there would be a break in the case. Now frustration twisted his guts into a tight knot. “There’s nothing that can help tell us who killed him.”

  “Actually it’s what was missing that caught Teagan’s attention,” Max told him.

  “The credit cards?” Lucas wasn’t impressed. Tony Hughes came from a family who had probably never qualified for credit. Whether it was cards or a bank loan. “Not everyone carries them.”

  “No.” Max deliberately paused. Like some damned drama queen. “His cell phone.”

  Ah. Now Lucas understood Teagan’s interest. Tony might not have credit cards, but he damned sure had a cell phone.

  “Maybe he left it in his truck,” he suggested.

  “It wasn’t listed in the inventory,” Max said.

  Lucas tried to consider the various possibilities. He quickly decided there weren’t a lot of them.

  “So either he was shot and someone stole his cell, or he gave it to someone before he was shot,” he concluded.

  “That’s the theory,” Max agreed. “Teagan decided to do some poking around to see if he could find out if Tony had a phone and where it is now.”

  Lucas smiled. “Remind me to give Teagan a pat on the back when we return to Houston.”

  Max snorted. “Teagan will expect a twelve-pack of his favorite beer and a weekend at your parents’ home in Saint-Tropez.”

  Lucas released a sharp laugh. The thought of releasing Teagan on the hapless citizens of Saint-Tropez was an image he was going to savor.

  Then, with a shake of his head, he met Max’s amused gaze. “Did he find the phone?”

  Max shook his head. “Turns out Tony didn’t have a landline or a contract for a cell phone. Which means he probably used a burner.”

  Another dead end. Lucas released a hiss between his clenched teeth. He wanted to punch something. Really, really hard.

  Dammit, Tony, what were you into?

  “Shit,” he growled.

  “That’s exactly what Teagan said,” Max said in dry tones.

  “Tony clearly didn’t want anyone able to trace who he was talking to,” he muttered. “It has to be drugs.”

  “It gets better.” Max turned to the side, reaching into the backseat to grab a stack of papers. With a flick of his wrist he tossed them into Lucas’s lap.

  “What’s this?” Lucas automatically straightened the papers, skimming through the bank balances, tax returns, and car loans.

  “Teagan had them scanned and e-mailed to my computer at the hotel,” Max explained.

  Lucas lifted his head to send his companion a puzzled frown. “I assume these are Tony’s financials?”

  “Yeah.” Max reached over to pull out one of the sheets of paper. “Check out his rental payments.”

  Lucas studied the neatly typed receipts that were signed by the manager of his condo.

  “He paid in cash.” Growingly convinced that Tony was more heavily involved in the drug trade than anyone had ever suspected, Lucas pulled out his phone. He wanted to talk to Hauk. The older man was creating an extensive list of shady contacts who were willing to trade information for money, or occasionally for a favor.

  Before he could complete the call, however, Max reached out to grab his arm in a punishing grip.

  “Lucas.”


  Lucas jerked his head up, his senses on full alert. “What?”

  “Look.” Max nodded toward the black SUV that was pulling out of the narrow alley and shooting into the street with a squeal of its tires.

  What the hell? Had the SUV come from the empty field behind Mia’s house?

  Lucas’s heart squeezed with sudden fear.

  “Try to follow it,” he ordered his friend, pushing open his door and leaping out of the vehicle that Max had already shoved into reverse. “I’m going the check on Mia.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Something was wrong.

  Terribly, horribly wrong.

  Mia blinked, her coffee mug dropping from her suddenly lifeless fingers.

  It’d come on without warning. One minute she was leaning against the kitchen counter and feeling fine, and the next her mouth was dry and her head so fuzzy she could barely form a coherent thought.

  Was she having a seizure? Or worse, was it a stroke?

  Struggling to stay upright, she stumbled into the living room. Where was Lucas? She’d peeked into the bedroom after her shower to discover the bed empty. She assumed he would be in the kitchen, but he hadn’t been there either.

  Had he left?

  Not that she would blame him.

  Still, she needed to find her phone. Whatever was wrong with her wasn’t going to go away on its own. She needed a doctor.

  Managing to reach the middle of the room, she struggled to clear her vision. The sofa was no more than a blurry smudge. She turned, holding out her hands as she tried to find the wall. She could use it to lead her around the room to the side table where she’d left her phone.

  And hopefully it would help keep her from falling on her face.

  Trying not to panic, she inched her way to the side. She’d taken less than two steps when she heard the sound of the door opening and her name being called.

  Oh, thank God. Lucas.

  Turning toward the door, she tried to answer but her tongue wouldn’t work. Instead her knees gave way and she found herself tumbling forward.

  Crap. With a heavy thud she hit the floor, for once thankful for the thick carpeting she’d promised herself she would replace once she’d saved up the money. It might be butt-ugly, but it kept her from cracking open her head.