Max nodded. “I get it.”
Lucas sucked in a deep, cleansing breath. The past was done. All he could do was try and change the future.
“I was an idiot. I walked away from Mia when I should have walked away from the St. Clair clan and taken her with me.”
“And now?”
“Now I fight,” he said without hesitation.
Max smiled. “Good enough.”
Chapter Seven
Mia was doing her best to be reasonable.
Lucas St. Clair was only trying to protect her, right?
That was why he’d returned to Shreveport. Why he’d bullied his way into staying at her house. And why he had some strange man following her to work.
Granted, she’d nearly gone ballistic when she found the small camera planted on the edge of her window frame. She’d even considered the pleasure of stalking out to the parking lot and zapping the intrusive bastard with Taylor’s stun gun.
The only thing that helped to ease her violent urge was that Lucas had made no effort to hide the fact that he was spying on her.
Still, by lunchtime, she was too itchy to pretend she was working.
She’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, so acutely aware that Lucas was sleeping in the next room she could barely breathe. Then she’d entered the bathroom, which was still filled with the scent of his soap and the unfamiliar sight of shaving cream in her sink.
She wanted to be pissed off, but instead she was aching with a need that made her want to scream.
At last deciding to channel her locked-up frustration into something more productive than staring out the window at the man who was currently driving her nuts, Mia grabbed her purse.
She avoided Taylor’s searching gaze as she headed out of the office with a vague promise she’d be back in an hour. Then, making a dash through the rain to her car, she covertly noted that the SUV was gone and Lucas was sitting alone in his car.
Starting her vehicle, she pulled out of the lot, doing nothing to try and avoid the Porsche that was tailgating her as she drove toward the mechanic shop outside town.
She might feel the need to be proactive when it came to discovering who might want her dead, but she wasn’t stupid. She needed someone watching her back. Hell, if she thought that Lucas wouldn’t try to forbid her from becoming involved in the investigation, she would have included him on her current mission.
Unfortunately, she knew him too well. If he even suspected she was asking questions about Tony, he would have her locked in her house.
At last reaching the shop that was built behind a pawnshop, Mia pulled into the muddy lot.
In front of her the long, metal building was overflowing with wrecked vehicles, used auto parts, and tires. The roof was a rusty mess and may have looked like a junkyard to a passerby. But Mia had gone to school with Pete Young and knew he was a wizard when it came to anything with a motor. Which was why she’d contracted him to take care of a wide variety of equipment.
Today, however, she wasn’t there to discuss her flatbed.
Sliding out of her car, Mia grimaced at the chilled rain that continued to drizzle from the overcast sky. She didn’t mind the cooler weather—it was winter after all—but she hated the gray clouds and damp air.
She was walking through the back door to the shop when the Porsche slid to a halt beside her car. She caught sight of Lucas pressing his phone to his ear, no doubt running a check on Young’s Automotive. He’d soon discover that she regularly did business with Pete. Which hopefully would give her time to do her questioning before he came in to butt his nose in what she was up to.
With a tug, she pulled open the door and stepped into the cramped office that held a couple of chairs and a long desk. Or at least she assumed there was a desk buried beneath the stacks of paperwork, empty coffee mugs, and greasy rags.
The walls were equally messy, with invoices stapled to warped wood paneling. Overhead, the drop ceiling was missing several tiles and at least one fluorescent lightbulb was burned out.
At her entrance, Pete glanced up from a stack of bills he was studying as if they were written in a foreign language.
“Hey, Mia.” He lifted his tall, skinny body out of the chair, flicking back his shoulder-length brown hair. “I thought I told Taylor it would be another week on the truck.”
“You did.” Mia smiled, silently wondering if Pete ever wore anything besides his worn jeans and the stained blue shirt with his name embroidered on the pocket. “I’m here to see Burt.”
Pete heaved a small sigh, glancing toward the door where the sound of hammering filled the air. “I told him to stay home, but he said he needed the hours,” he told her. “Penny’s pregnant.”
Mia blinked in surprise. Penny was twenty-five and already had six children.
“Again?”
“Yep.”
Mia shared a grimace with Pete before giving a shake of her head. None of her business.
“I just want to give him my condolences,” she said.
“He’s taking a break in the breezeway,” Pete said. “Tell him to take his time.”
With a nod, Mia made her way into the shop, ignoring the lingering looks as she made her way past the men working beneath the car lifts. After years of running a male-dominated business, she’d discovered that no reaction was the best reaction when it came to unwanted interest.
At last reaching the back of the shop, she opened the door and stepped onto the cement walkway that led directly to the pawnshop that was owned by Pete’s ex-father-in-law.
Seemed like an awkward setup to Mia, but whatever.
Thankful the walkway was covered, she stepped away from the door even as the dark-haired man turned around to face her.
All the Hughes boys looked alike. Big, powerful bodies with thick chests. Square faces with light brown eyes. And skin that easily darkened in the hot Louisiana sun.
“Hey, Burt,” she murmured in soft tones.
He tossed aside his cigarette. “Mia.”
She offered a sympathetic smile. “How are you holding up?”
He shrugged, blinking away his tears. “Shit happens.”
“Yeah, it does.” She reached out to lightly touch his arm. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I suppose not.” Burt clenched his jaw. “Tony was always wild, but I never expected . . .” He allowed his words to trail away.
“Me either.” She paused before gently asking the question that had been troubling her since learning that her friend had been shot. “Do you know why Tony was in Houston?”
Burt shook his head, regret etched on his face. “Like I told the cop, I haven’t seen or heard from Tony in months.”
Cop? Did he mean Detective Cooper?
“I hadn’t seen him either.” She grimaced. Would Tony still have gone to Houston if she hadn’t fired him? “I wish I’d done more to stay in contact with him.”
“Yeah, me too,” Burt muttered. Then, with hands that weren’t quite steady, he lit up another cigarette. Mia didn’t protest. Burt was clearly in pain. “When we were all young we were inseparable,” he abruptly said.
Mia nodded. “I remember.”
Her father had called the Hughes boys a bunch of hooligans.
“We didn’t have anyone but each other,” Burt continued. “But after Tony started going to that fancy school, he changed.” He gave a slow shake of his head, his expression unbearably sad. “I always thought it was because he thought he was better than us. He was always gone, you know. Hanging around kids who lived in the big houses and staying out all night.” He paused, his gaze shifting toward the lot behind the shop where they parked the cars waiting to be serviced. “But now I’m not so sure.”
Mia frowned. “Why not?”
“After talking to the cop I started thinking back.” He took a deep drag on the cigarette. “I realized that it wasn’t just that Tony pulled away from us. He became secretive. Like he was hiding something from us.”
&
nbsp; Mia nodded. She’d sensed the same thing, although she’d always dismissed it as Tony being Tony. Now that he was dead, she was trying to find answers to the doubts that had niggled in the back of her mind.
“His drugs?” she suggested.
Burt gave a decisive shake of his head. “Naw. He never hid his weed,” he said. “Not even when he was selling.”
“Did he deal a lot?”
Burt shrugged. “Just enough to keep himself supplied. Why?”
Mia chewed her bottom lip. She’d loved Tony. The last thing she wanted was to hash through his habit of breaking the law. But how else was she going to get the info she needed?
“He usually worked for me a few weeks out of the year, but that wasn’t enough to pay his bills,” she pointed out.
Burt gave a slow nod, his brow furrowed. “I asked a few times, but he never gave me a straight answer. I know that he must have had some extra source of income, and that it started in high school. Sometimes he would stop by Ma’s house with a wad of bills.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Everyone was so happy to know we would have food in the fridge for a few weeks we never demanded to know how he got the money.”
Mia could sense Burt’s guilt. As the older brother he no doubt assumed he should have done more to protect Tony.
Mia felt the same guilt.
“Could he have been dealing something more lucrative than weed?”
“I suppose it’s possible, but I really don’t know.” Burt made a sound of disgust, crushing his cigarette beneath the heel of his boot. “And now it’s too late.”
Realizing that she’d intruded into Burt’s mourning long enough, Mia got to the last point of her visit.
“Can I ask a favor?”
Burt nodded. “Sure.”
“Tony gave me the key to his condo when he moved in,” she said. “Do you mind if I look around?”
Burt raised his brows. “Look around for what?”
Mia wrinkled her nose. She didn’t know. It was simply the only thing she could think of that would make her feel like she was doing something.
“I suppose I want a reason for why he was in Houston,” she said, careful not to mention the picture that Tony had been clutching in his hand. She had no idea what she was allowed to say about the investigation. “It bothers me.”
“Knock yourself out,” Burt muttered before giving a sudden frown. “Wait. That cop said he was going to search the condo today, so you might want to wait until tomorrow.”
She nodded. Would the condo be sealed off? Surely not. It wasn’t a crime scene.
“Thanks.” She once again reached out to touch Burt’s arm. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Naw.” He heaved a deep sigh. “The funeral will be on Sunday.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
He flashed a sad smile. “You were a good friend to Tony.”
“I’ll miss him.” She stepped back. “Take care of yourself, Burt.”
“You too.”
* * *
Taylor stifled a yawn as she finished printing the billing invoices.
She wanted to blame her lethargy on the gray December day. Or even the fact that it was Friday. It had, after all, been a long, stressful week.
But if she’d learned anything from her wild-child years, it was that sticking her head in the sand was a recipe for disaster.
The reason she was tired today was because she’d spent the night fantasizing about a blond-haired detective with gentle brown eyes.
It was ridiculous. He wasn’t at all her type. She’d always fallen for the bad boys who were custom-designed to treat her like shit.
She didn’t do nice, solid guys who stuck around when times got tough.
Almost as if her dark thoughts had made Detective Brian Cooper materialize in front of her, the man stepped through the front door.
Taylor felt a sizzle of excitement race over her skin as he headed across the floor and settled in the chair that was set at the corner of her reception desk.
Once again he was wearing a suit jacket that was in need of a good tailor, with a crisp white shirt and blue tie. His shoes were scuffed and his hair was ruffled from the breeze.
He should have been completely unremarkable to a woman who liked leather and tats.
But the zing of awareness at his handsome, clean-cut features warned Taylor that he was far more dangerous than any other man she’d known. Including her jackass ex-husband.
Annoyed with herself, and even more annoyed with the man who was no doubt going to disrupt her dreams again tonight, she sent him a glare.
“You again.”
Brian arched a brow even as a small smile curved his lips. “I hoped for a warmer reception.”
“I hoped I would win the lottery,” Taylor countered in sweet tones. “Seems like we’re both doomed to disappointment.”
“I come bearing gifts.”
He held up his hand to reveal the small pink box from her favorite bakery.
Shit. Had he noticed the box she’d had on her desk yesterday? Clearly this man wasn’t only intelligent, he was dangerously observant. She’d be a fool to forget that.
She reached for the stack of invoices and efficiently began to stuff them in envelopes. “You think I can be bought with pastry?” she asked.
“I think you’re a loyal employee and a devoted friend.” He leaned forward to place the box in the center of her desk. “Both qualities I admire in a person.”
She hesitantly reached to flip open the top, already knowing what she’d find inside.
Maple cream donuts. Yep. Dangerous.
“You really are pulling out the big guns,” she muttered, frowning at him with blatant suspicion. “What do you want?”
He studied her for a long minute, his dark gaze unnervingly intense.
“Do you dislike me because I’m a cop, or because I’m a man?”
“I . . .” Her words trailed away. She wasn’t about to tell him that she disliked him because he was making her remember what it was like to be a young, vibrant woman.
“Taylor?” he at last prompted.
She reached to grab a donut, willing back her urge to blush.
“I don’t dislike you.”
“Good. I really am trying to help,” he said in soft tones. “Not only to find Tony’s killer, but to keep your friend safe.”
He was right. She was a selfish bitch not to be delighted such a dedicated detective was involved in solving Tony’s murder.
She grimaced, rising to her feet to cross to the counter that ran beneath the window. “Do you want coffee?”
“Yes, thank you,” he murmured. “Black, please.”
Pouring two large mugs of the coffee she’d made in an effort to survive the day, she returned to the desk and waved a hand toward the box.
“Donut?”
Sipping his coffee, Brian glanced over the edge of his mug, something dark and delicious simmering in the velvet depths. “Thanks, but sweets aren’t my weakness,” he said in a low voice that shivered down her spine. “I prefer my indulgences to have more substance.”
Oh. Was he flirting with her? It felt like flirting.
But what the hell did she know?
Her last boyfriend had considered romance a quickie in the back of his pickup.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” she demanded, nervously taking a bite of her donut.
He watched her lick the sticky maple from her lips.
“I spent the morning at Tony’s condo,” he finally said.
“Did you find something?”
His jaw tightened with frustration. “Nothing that would explain why he was in Houston. Or why someone would want to shoot him.”
Her brows drew tighter. She’d assumed he had some new lead that he was following. “Then why are you here?”
He smoothed his features to the polite mask that she was beginning to suspect was his “cop face.”
“Ms. Ramon said that Tony was a
part-time employee.”
“So?”
“Where else did he work?”
Taylor blinked in confusion. “I don’t know. I never heard of him working anywhere else.”
He paused, as if considering his words. “He didn’t do any extra jobs for your employer?”
“What are you asking?”
“You know.” He gave a casual shrug, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smile of faux innocence. “The sorts of jobs that are easier to keep off the books.”
Taylor stiffened, tossing aside the donut as she glowered at the aggravating man. “Are you accusing Mia of being a tax cheat?” she demanded.
His smile remained. “I’m just saying that a lot of landscaping businesses prefer to pay their employees in cash.”
“Not this one,” Taylor snapped.
“You’re sure?”
“That’s it.” She scooted back her chair, preparing to kick Detective Brian Cooper out the door. She didn’t give a damn if he was a cop or not. “I’ve tried to be polite, but I’m done.”
“Wait.” He lifted a hand. “Please, Taylor.”
“No,” she said, although she remained seated. As much as she longed to use her stun gun to prod him out of the office, she wasn’t going to let him get away with tarnishing her friend’s reputation. “Mia isn’t like her father,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “She’s done everything necessary to make sure she’s running a legitimate business. Even when it meant she had to take out additional loans to meet those stupid regulations for her nursery. She even paid a tax lawyer to go over her accounts to make sure she was doing everything right.”
An emotion that might have been regret softened his features. “Okay, I didn’t mean to insult Ms. Ramon.”
She sniffed. “Well, you did.”
“I’m just curious.”
She hesitated, well aware that his casual, good ol’ boy manner was all nothing more than an act. He was a master manipulator who was playing her like a fiddle.
Kill Without Shame Page 8