Ruthless Bastard

by Kennedy, Stacey

  Not that he understood her distance. She wanted him close. He saw her responding interest in the way her gaze ate him up. Christ, he swore he could damn near smell her pheromones running wild when he stood next to her.

  “Focusing on the dead might be better than the living at the moment.”

  Boone’s brain snapped back to its proper position in his head. He glanced at his lifelong friend and fellow detective, Rhett West. Dark haired and dark eyed, Rhett had always been an imposing guy, even as a kid. “The scenery is distracting,” Boone admitted.

  Rhett shook his head with a laugh. “You’re such a fucking goner.”

  Yeah, Boone was, and he knew it. Peyton had gotten into his head, and by all appearances, she wasn’t even trying. That one kiss had played on his mind constantly. He wanted more.

  He also became aware of the crowd outside being forced off the sidewalk by the yellow tape. Even from where he stood, he saw the concern on the faces he recognized outside. People he knew growing up. His high school principal was there. The lady who owned the flower shop a few blocks down. Even the receptionist from the doctor’s office was in the crowd.

  Stoney Creek was a small town. Everyone knew each other. And from experience, Boone knew that as soon as word got out that there was a murder, calls would start coming in about neighbors, old boyfriends, and enemies ratting each other out. But he also knew fear would run rampant in the town he loved and served to protect.

  Reminding himself of the job he needed to do, he gave Peyton one last look as she rubbed Kinsley’s back. His sister was sitting on the floor next to Peyton. Her head was over a bucket, her long chocolate-brown hair hanging over the sides. All of which didn’t surprise him. His baby sister had a weak stomach on the best of days. “Catch me up,” he said to Rhett.

  “Peyton opened the shop this morning. Kinsley was with her,” Rhett reported. “That’s when they found the body.”

  Boone turned his attention to the matter at hand. A few inches away from his boots lay a blond woman in a pool of her own blood. She looked in her mid-twenties, and by her body position, Boone suspected she had no idea the shot was coming. He couldn’t see any defensive wounds on her hands. Her clothes were all in place, making him believe the murder wasn’t sexually motivated.

  Doing what he did best, he surveyed the scene. The lingerie shop was narrow and long and set into one of the historic buildings on Main Street. The walls were painted hot pink, with blood spatter now. In the front of the store was a sales counter and white tables set out with the lacy garments, but the victim lay in the back storage room, where a small desk sat with a computer monitor on top. The back building door was closed, and nothing seemed out of place, except for the deceased woman.

  Behind the woman, the crime scene technicians were already processing the murder. “First thoughts?” Boone asked no one in particular.

  “I’d say it’s a robbery gone wrong,” the third member of their rat pack growing up, Detective Asher Sullivan, said as he walked in through the back door from the parking lot with latex gloves on his hands. His blond hair was styled and gelled, and his eyes were a bright green.

  They’d all become best friends in grade school—the three troublemakers back then, who all ended up in law enforcement one way or another, and now tended to work together often.

  Asher stopped near the body and gestured at the safe not far from the victim. “Broken into and emptied.”

  Boone squatted down, getting closer to the woman’s lifeless body. He kept his hands on his thighs, careful not to touch her, knowing full well if he did even with gloves, the medical examiner would serve him up for dinner. “A shot to the back of the head doesn’t shout robbery.” No, a shot where the victim wasn’t looking at the killer typically meant the shooter felt guilt, not wanting to look at the victim when the life faded from her eyes.

  Rhett peered into the safe, then turned around. “Why hit a lingerie shop? The petty cash can’t be worth killing someone over.”

  Boone agreed with a firm nod. He’d moved to New York City in his twenties and worked for the New York City PD for ten years. In those years, he’d seen crimes in the city that would always haunt him. A small, coastal Maine town like Stoney Creek didn’t have the gang violence or murders like New York City. Murders were few and far between here, with most being domestic, or resulting from organized crime in surrounding areas. Rapes were even less common. Minor robberies, thefts, and burglaries tended to be what Boone spent his days investigating. Which was a far cry from his time in the NYPD. The blood, the cruelty, the hate—Boone had seen enough death to last him a lifetime. He straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And why hit this shop with a busy club next door?” Kinsley’s jazz club, Whiskey Blues, would have cash on hand, and a lot of it, compared to what the lingerie shop had.

  Asher made a note on his pad, then clicked his pen closed. “I agree. Something about this one feels odd.”

  Anything odd was never a good thing, and the tension spilling out from Rhett and Asher mirrored what Boone felt too.

  The back door didn’t appear broken into, but the residents in Stoney Creek didn’t lock their doors. Boone couldn’t pinpoint what bothered him about what he was seeing here, but something made his skin crawl. And that sensation he trusted, telling him there was more going on here than first appearances.

  He parted his lips to say as such, when a high voice snapped, “Stop right where you are.” Marissa, the five-foot-one, short-haired brunette fireball medical examiner entered the back room. “You better not have touched a single thing.”

  With a smirk, Boone leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. Marissa believed in protocol with a capital P. Her compulsive disorder had served her well and made her one hell of an ME.

  “Is this still enough for you?” Rhett mused, grinning from ear to ear.

  She studied him, her thin lips pinching tight. “Your mouth is moving, so no.”

  Rhett laughed softly.

  Marissa placed her bag down near Boone, then waved them out of the back room. “Get gone.” She believed in spirts, in energies, and she needed quiet when she worked to allow the victims to speak to her.

  Boone never questioned her method, no matter that more than once he questioned her sanity. Marissa never missed a damn thing, and he’d seen her attention to detail send criminals to jail. “You’ll be in touch when you have your findings?”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Marissa flicked her hand at him again, solely focused on the victim now.

  Boone went to turn away, when the air in the room shifted slightly, becoming thicker, harder to inhale. It came as no surprise after a quick look back, he found Peyton staring at him. When they met that first night in the club, he’d been curious about the gorgeous woman who’d walked through the doors looking a little lost and edgy. But lately, for reasons he couldn’t figure out, his curiosity had gone from mild to hard-core all too quickly. She had this hold over him he couldn’t explain, even to himself.

  Needing answers that only she could give him, Boone headed Peyton’s way. She wasn’t the typical blond bombshell. There was an undeniable softness about her. A sweetness, even. Her long hair resembled the color of honey, and his fingers twitched to tangle in their strands. But the ghosts in the depths of her rich hazel eyes were what held him tight. Heartbreak was a pain he understood. And any sort of sadness on her pretty face made him damn near clamor to make her smile.

  When he finally reached her, he studied her calmness, surprised she didn’t look more rattled at finding a woman murdered in her shop this morning. “All right?” he asked.

  Peyton’s pink lips parted.

  “Hell no, I’m not all right,” his sister snapped, still sitting on the floor, head still in the bucket. “I just barfed my brains out.” She finally lifted her head, soft eyes meeting Boone’s. Her skin went sheet white and she smacked her hand over her mouth. “Nope. Not ready to talk yet. It’ll happen again.”

  Peyton knelt next to Kinsley
, rubbing her back, and said in a soothing voice, “Remember, think about something else—like that funny story you were telling me about earlier.”

  Boone watched the exchange closely. Every time he saw Peyton, she’d reveal a little more about herself. Which admittedly wasn’t much. All he’d gotten out of her was that she lived in Seattle before moving to Stoney Creek. But right now, he’d bet money that in Seattle she’d been in the medical field. She had the touch.

  A touch he desperately wanted.

  When Kinsley gagged, he glanced at his baby sister, and his chest tightened. Last night, Kinsley had been working behind the bar at Whiskey Blues. Far too close to this murder for his liking. “You’ll need to give your statements, but feel free to wait outside until then,” he said.

  “Thank fucking God.” Kinsley stood up, white faced, her dark hair a wild mess, and beelined for the door. One foot outside, she looked back at him. “I don’t know how you do this as a job. Seriously, Boone, it’s gross.”

  He snorted at his sister. Law enforcement was in his blood. Boone was a cop, so were his father and grandfather. Kinsley seemed to have skipped that gene.

  Peyton watched Kinsley leave. She finally turned to Boone and gave him the sweet playful smile she’d given him for a month now. “I guess I’ll see you later.” She turned.

  Yeah, right.

  Boone snagged her wrist gently and watched her closely. Like every time he got close, she inhaled sharply, an obvious shiver running down her spine. Her pretty eyes flicked to his. And held.

  He was blinded by the heat between them, wanting desperately to give her everything she wanted and more. Because he wanted all those same things.

  She finally blinked and those eyes became haunted. Instincts were 90 percent of being a good detective. Boone had honed his instincts through the ten years he’d spent with the NYPD—five as a beat cop and five more as a detective—and the last two years he’d worked in Stoney Creek as a detective. Those instincts told him now that this death had brought a memory of another death in her life. “Before you head out,” he murmured, unable to let her wrist go, “were there any signs of a break-in when you came in this morning?”

  She shook her head and licked her lips, taking a step toward him.

  Damn, he ached to close the distance. He stared at that pretty mouth, and he realized he stroked the inside of her wrist, earning him another shiver. He couldn’t fight his slight grin. If he could do that by a soft swipe of his finger, he knew he could make her shiver even deeper once he really touched her. Then he’d make her scream. His name, preferably.

  But like a vault door slamming shut, she took a step back, all the heat vanishing from her expression. “The front door was locked, nothing seemed out of place. I don’t know about the back door.”

  Boone gently released her wrist and shoved his hands into his pockets to ensure he didn’t reach for her again. “Do you know the victim?”

  Peyton shook her head. “I don’t know her personally. I think she works for DX Industrial Cleaning. They always come after I close up, so I never meet the person they send.”

  “Do they have a key?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I gave them a copy when I first hired the company.”

  “That’s good to know.” He took a mental note to ensure someone talked with the cleaning agency before moving along. “Have you seen anyone strange hanging around the shop or anything like that?”

  “No one. Nothing.” She dropped her head and sighed before addressing him again. “Do you think whoever did this will come back?”

  Boone considered. He didn’t want her to worry, but he never believed in sugarcoating things either. “Honestly, we won’t know anything until we investigate further.” Yeah, that was his bullshit standard cop answer, and she knew it, giving him a frown. To ease her worries, he added, “Right now, this looks like a botched robbery. It could very well be that, unless you have enemies—”

  “God, of course I don’t,” she sputtered. “I don’t even have people who dislike me. Seriously, my life in Seattle was boring as hell.”

  He doubted anything about Peyton Kerr was boring. “All right,” he said, glancing back at the blood beneath the victim. “The crime techs should wrap up everything by tonight. I’ll arrange for a cleaning crew to come in and get you back open tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,” she said with clear gratitude and gave him that sexy smile again.

  Christ. His cock twitched. What inappropriate timing. But that smile unraveled him. Every damn time.

  “Come on, Peyton.” Asher suddenly sidled up next to Boone. “Let’s go make sure Kinsley isn’t puking in your flowerpots. I’ll drive you both back to her place and take your statements there.”

  “Great,” Peyton said, all too calmly.

  At that, Asher’s brows furrowed. Boone understood perfectly. Her calmness wasn’t typical and that raised questions that needed answering. While he was pretty sure that Peyton had nothing to do with this murder, there was a dead body in her shop, and her reactions were unusual.

  She turned her smile onto Boone again. “Bye.”

  He nodded his goodbye, watching her carefully as she strode away, leaving a trail of her sugary-scented perfume. That scent. That ass. Those damn pretty eyes had him itching to slide one hand along her back and yank her tight to him, while the other tangled into her hair as he kissed her, until she went all soft against him. All of which was entirely inappropriate.

  When she reached the door, she turned and gave him a loaded look. Then she was gone, with Asher walking behind her.

  Peyton had secrets. Whether those secrets related to the murdered victim on the floor of her shop or not was something he would find out.

  Boone hadn’t had a cold case for over two years. He didn’t intend to break his record now.

  Acknowledgments

  To my husband, my children, family, friends, and bestie, it’s easy to write about love when there is so much love around me. Big thanks to my readers for your friendship and your support; my editor, Junessa, for taking on this book and helping me end this series perfectly; my agent, Jessica, for always being there; the kick-ass authors in my Sprint group for their endless advice and support; the entire Forever Yours team for all their hard work throughout the entire Dangerous Love series. Thank you.

  About the Author

  Stacey Kennedy is a USA Today bestselling author who writes contemporary romances full of heat, heart, and happily ever afters. She has published over fifty titles and her books have hit a number of online retailer bestseller lists.

  Stacey lives with her husband and two children in southwestern Ontario—in a city that’s just as charming as any of the small towns she creates. Most days, you’ll find her enjoying the outdoors with her family or venturing into the forest with her horse, Priya. Stacey’s just as happy curled up indoors, where she writes surrounded by her lazy dogs. She believes that sexy books about hot cowboys or alpha heroes can fix any bad day. But wine and chocolate help too.

  You can learn more at:

  StaceyKennedy.com

  Twitter @Stacey_Kennedy

  Facebook.com/AuthorStaceyKennedy

  PRAISE FOR THE DANGEROUS LOVE SERIES

  Naughty Stranger

  “A steamy and emotional romance with a generous dose of intrigue and suspense…The unpredictable twists and turns of this story will keep you on the edge of your seat and rooting for Peyton and Boone every step of the way.”

  —Frolic

  “An entertaining thriller hidden in a sizzling small-town romance.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “From the very first page, Naughty Stranger will have you hooked. Once I got started, I just couldn’t put it down. Its sultry and suspenseful story line and captivating characters drew me in and had me teetering helplessly from the edge of my seat!”

  —Reds Romance Reviews

  “I really enjoyed this story, and I loved watching two broken souls find hope, and love, in
each other. Especially amidst a crazy murder plot, and all their friends’ nosiness!”

  —Alpha Book Club

  Wicked Sinner

  “Wicked Sinner has sexy suspense, banter, friendships, and a second chance at the one. Ms. Kennedy provided a good balance between the romance, suspense, heat, and humor. Fans of J.S. Scott and Stefanie London will enjoy Wicked Sinner.”

  —Harlequin Junkie

  “A tantalizing mix of thrills, fierce friendships, and second-chance sexiness!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Second chance romance, small town, ruined wedding: Wicked Sinner delivers all of it.”

  —The Book Disciple

  “A lovely romantic suspense that is sure to leave you wanting more.”

  —Lovely Love Day

  “A powerful small-town love story about second chances and forgiveness. Asher and Remy’s story is heartbreaking and magical.”

  —Cocktails and Books

  “A great story about two people who get a second chance at love. Sweet and sexy.”

  —Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

  Also by Stacey Kennedy

  Dangerous Love Series

  Naughty Stranger

  Wicked Sinner

  Don’t miss the other books in the

  Dangerous Love series!

  Now Available from Forever Yours

  From USA Today bestselling author Stacey Kennedy comes a thrilling, sexy romance about a woman in danger and a small-town police detective who will do anything to keep her safe.