Kill Without Shame

by Alexandra Ivy

“Next time don’t hesitate,” he chided. “You can’t be too careful.”

  She rolled her eyes. There were occasions he was pure cop.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised. “What are you doing out here?”

  There was a long silence before she heard him heave a deep sigh.

  “I don’t know.”

  She frowned, sensing his tension. “Is something wrong?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders slumped. “Not really. It’s just been a long, frustrating day and I . . .”

  She studied his shadowed profile as his words trailed away. “And you . . . ?”

  He turned his head to meet her searching gaze. “I wanted someone to talk to.”

  A dangerous tenderness threatened to melt her heart. There was something extraordinarily flattering about a strong, successful male seeking her out just because he wanted to talk.

  Like she was special or something.

  “Why didn’t you knock on the door?”

  His hands dropped, his gaze moving toward the door she’d left open to allow the soft light to spill across the front yard.

  “Once I got here I realized that it was Sunday night and that you were probably enjoying a quiet evening with your family.”

  She studied him in confusion. “So you just decided to sit here in your car?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t make myself go home.” He hunched his shoulders. “Ridiculous, huh?”

  “No. It’s not ridiculous.” Barely resisting the urge to reach through the open window and smooth his tousled hair, she instead grabbed the door handle and tugged it open. “Come inside.”

  He slowly crawled out of the car, his movements stiff, as if he’d been sitting for a long time.

  “What about your family?” he demanded.

  “We already had our dinner together,” she assured him, wondering how he knew that she insisted they have a proper, sit-down meal on Sunday night. It was the one time during the week she could be certain they would be together. “Now my mother is at her weekly bingo game and my son is locked in his room. He’s very vocal in his assurance that he can only handle a limited amount of enforced ‘family time.’”

  The detective allowed his head to tilt back to glance at the upstairs window that glowed with the light from Justin’s computer game. “You’re sure?” he pressed.

  Was she?

  There was a part of her that warned her this was a very bad idea. Not because she was afraid of Brian. He was a hero, not one of the losers she usually attracted. But because he made her think about dreams and wishes that she’d thought she’d managed to put in her past.

  He remained perfectly still, allowing her the time to sort through her tangled thoughts.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m sure.”

  In silence she led him up the driveway and onto the porch. Then, stepping aside, she allowed him to enter first, closing the door behind them.

  With undisguised interest, Brian glanced around the small room with the worn couch and two recliners that were covered with blankets she’d crocheted when she’d been pregnant with Justin.

  The walls were paneled, and the floor was original hardwood, making it darker than Taylor liked, but it was ruthlessly clean and filled with pictures of a family who openly loved each other. And to add to the coziness was a small Christmas tree that she’d decorated with Justin earlier in the day.

  “It’s not fancy, but it’s home,” she muttered, suddenly self-conscious.

  She wished that she had taken time to brush her hair and change out of her jeans and oversized Tulane sweatshirt. She felt as frumpy as her house.

  “It’s nice.” He turned, meeting her guarded gaze with a shimmering intensity that made her mouth go dry. “Comfortable.”

  She cleared her throat. How long had it been since she’d invited a man to the house?

  Not since her horse patootie of an ex-husband had walked out.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she abruptly demanded.

  He tilted his head to the side, as if sensing her sudden unease. “What are you having?”

  “Hot chocolate.” She glanced toward the cabinet that held a couple of dusty bottles of whiskey. “But you’re welcome to have—”

  “Hot chocolate sounds perfect,” he gently interrupted.

  “Okay.”

  She waved a vague hand toward the sofa as she turned to scurry into the kitchen. She was anxious to put some space between them so she could regroup.

  Was there anything more embarrassing than acting like a giggly teen on her first date?

  But even as she crossed the linoleum floor, she felt the prickle of heat that meant Brian was only inches behind her.

  Clearly he hadn’t gotten the hint he was supposed to stay in the living room while she regained command of her composure.

  “Mmm.” He sucked in a deep breath, moving toward the pot set on the ancient stove. “Made from scratch?”

  Resigned to the fact that Brian intended to make himself at home, Taylor collected two mugs from the white-painted cabinets and moved to the stove.

  Without her needing to ask, Brian lifted the pot and poured out the warm cocoa. Taylor reached for the marshmallows that she’d put into a bowl on the counter, tossing them into the mugs before she was carrying them to the small table near the window.

  “My mother would consider it a blasphemy to use anything out of a package,” she told Brian, watching as he took his seat and reached for one of the mugs.

  “My mom’s the same way.”

  Sliding into her chair, Taylor cupped the hot mug in her hands and studied her companion’s face. His skin was pale, and there was a weariness etched into his features, but there was still a compelling vitality in the dark eyes and a steady strength in the hard line of his jaw.

  A man’s man, but with the protective instincts of a cop.

  Dangerous.

  “Does your mother live in town?”

  He shook his head. “No, my family is from Texas, but since most of us have chosen to go into law enforcement I decided to migrate to Louisiana to avoid any talk of nepotism.”

  “Your father’s a cop?”

  “And my mother and brother and two uncles.”

  She blinked, unable to imagine a whole clan of policemen and women. That had to make family reunions interesting.

  “Wow,” she murmured.

  “Yeah.” He grimaced. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “I think it would be wonderful to have a family tradition,” she swiftly assured him. “Justin’s father . . .” She halted, not wanting to discuss her ex with this man. “Let’s just say that my son doesn’t have the best footsteps to follow in.”

  Brian leaned forward, holding her gaze. “I’d say that he has the best footsteps in the world to follow in.”

  Heat stained her cheeks at the deep sincerity in his voice. She could go toe to toe with someone who tried to insult her abilities as a single mother, but she melted into a puddle of goo at any hint of approval.

  “You said you wanted to talk.” She hurriedly changed the direction of the conversation. “Did something happen with Mia’s case?”

  He took a sip of cocoa before answering. “Nothing I can share.”

  Taylor stiffened. “Okay.”

  He reached out to touch her arm, his eyes darkening with regret. “I really can’t, Taylor. Not without risking the case if we ever make an arrest.”

  Oh. It wasn’t personal. He obviously had a dozen rules and regulations when it came to his investigations.

  Brushing aside her momentary pang of hurt, she concentrated on her friend.

  “Can you at least tell me if you have any suspects?”

  There was a brief pause before he shook his head. “Not yet.”

  She shivered, hating the thought of her friend in danger.

  “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “We’re doing everything in o
ur power to keep her safe.”

  She allowed herself to become lost in the dark comfort of his eyes. The feel of his fingers seared through the heavy fabric of her sleeve, a delicious tension filling the air.

  Then, just as swiftly as the magical moment was created, it was shattered as her sixteen-year-old son strolled into the kitchen.

  The young man already topped six foot, but with a slender body that hadn’t yet filled out. His hair was a dark brown and damp from a recent shower, and his thin face held the promise of the sculpted beauty of his father. The only decent thing Danny had ever given their son.

  Clearly aware that there was a man in the house, Justin strolled nonchalantly toward the stove, shooting covert glances at Brian. “Is the hot chocolate ready?”

  Pulling her arm away from Brian’s hand, Taylor resisted the urge to jump to her feet. Why did she feel so weird?

  It wasn’t like there was anything going on.

  Was there?

  Waiting until her son had poured himself a mug of cocoa, she nodded her head in Brian’s direction. “Justin. This is Detective Cooper.”

  “I know you.” Justin blatantly inspected the male intruder, his expression unreadable. “You help with the Cajun Bombers.”

  Brian nodded. “When I have the time.”

  “Why are you here?” Justin bluntly demanded. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just wanted to spend some time with your mother.”

  There was a startled silence. Taylor couldn’t believe what he’d just said. Or what the words implied.

  Justin, on the other hand, allowed a slow smile to curve his lips. “That’s cool.” Sauntering back across the floor, he sent Taylor a wink even as he spoke to Brian. “You should have some pecan pie. It’s the best in town.”

  Taylor gave a slow shake of her head as Justin left the kitchen and the sound of his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs filled the air.

  What the heck had just happened?

  Not at all rattled by the strange encounter, Brian leaned back in his chair, his eyes dark with an unmistakable flare of desire.

  “Why didn’t I know there was pie?”

  Taylor reached for her mug and took a deep, scalding drink of her chocolate. Oh Lord. She was in trouble.

  * * *

  The early morning sunlight was streaming through the window when Mia woke from a deep sleep. She blinked in confusion. Then, as her eyes cleared, she blinked again.

  Was she still dreaming?

  What else was a woman supposed to think when she opened her eyes to find she was lying naked in bed with a gorgeous male who was equally naked?

  That was the stuff of fantasies, not real life.

  Reaching out her hand, she touched the wide chest that was directly in front of her face. It felt solid enough. And warm. Yummy warm.

  Her hand strayed over the silken heat, delighting in the hard muscles that tensed beneath her touch before she was stiffening in annoyance.

  What was wrong with her?

  She just woke up naked in bed with no memory of how she’d gotten there.

  She should be thinking about kicking the aggravating man off the mattress, not how much she wanted to explore every delectable inch of him.

  Planting her hand firmly against Lucas’s chest, she gave him a sharp shake. “Wake up,” she growled.

  “Hmm.” His eyes remained shut as he tightened his arms around her, tugging her against the searing heat of his body.

  A shiver of pleasure raced through her at the feel of his erection pressing into her lower stomach. Unlike her, he obviously had no conflicting emotions about waking up with a naked woman in his bed.

  “Lucas.” She gave a push against his chest. “What happened?”

  His lashes lifted far enough for her to catch a gleam of amusement in his astonishingly blue eyes.

  “Nothing yet,” he said in husky tones, tilting his head forward to brand a trail of kisses over her forehead and down her temple. “But that could change if you’re feeling better.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, instantly saturated in the delicious scent of soap and warm, male skin. Had he showered just before coming to bed? Once again she was nearly overwhelmed by the vivid fantasy of tasting his body with her lips and tongue.

  Curling her hands into fists to keep herself from smoothing them over his chest, she tilted back her head to avoid his kiss.

  “Wait,” she muttered.

  Denied her mouth, Lucas contented himself with grazing his lips up and down the arched line of her throat.

  “Haven’t you heard the old saying ‘to seize the day’?” he teased.

  Mia trembled. How was she supposed to think when his touch was wreaking havoc?

  “I don’t think it’s the day you want to seize,” she muttered.

  Scraping his early morning whiskers over her shoulder, he cupped her backside in his hands and tugged her even tighter against the hard length of his cock.

  “Busted,” he admitted with a low chuckle.

  Her toes curled and her back instinctively arched in pleasure.

  “Lucas, what happened last night?” she forced herself to demand, already feeling the urgency to shut out the world and drown in the sensations tingling through her.

  After all, she’d decided she wasn’t going to have sex with Lucas again, hadn’t she?

  He nipped the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. “I told you. Nothing.”

  She struggled to think through the fog of desire that was clouding her mind.

  He was so big and warm and delectable. And his lips knew exactly how to make her quiver as they stroked down the line of her collarbone.

  “I remember taking a bath and then nothing after that,” she managed to rasp.

  He smoothed one hand downward, grabbing the back of her thigh so he could tug her leg over his hip.

  “You fell asleep in the tub,” he explained, his lips twitching as she gave a tiny gasp at the feel of his arousal pressing against the point of her most intense pleasure. “I assumed you would be more comfortable in bed so I tucked you in and gave you a very chaste kiss on the forehead.”

  Last night’s kiss might have been chaste, but the openmouthed caresses he was spreading over the upper curve of her breasts now were anything but innocent.

  Her nipples instinctively hardened, silently begging for his touch.

  “You should have woken me up.” She fiercely forced herself to concentrate on the point she was trying to make.

  She did have a point, didn’t she?

  “Why?” Lucas asked, his tongue tracing the circle of her nipple.

  “I . . .” She nearly forgot what she wanted to say as he at last closed his lips around the tip of her breast. Heat streaked through her, clenching her lower stomach as she pressed against the welcomed thrust of his cock.

  “Yes?” he teased.

  Her hands lifted to tangle in his hair, the jolts of intense excitement making her toes curl.

  “I want to be a part of the investigation,” she managed to murmur.

  His sudden motion had her rolled flat on her back, pressing her into the mattress with the weight of his body.

  “You are,” he assured her, continuing to torment her nipple with tiny licks before he was sucking it deep into his mouth.

  A small moan was wrenched from her throat. No one but Lucas had ever realized just how gloriously sensitive her breasts were. And how quickly she could become aroused from the feel of warm lips against her nipples.

  Soon sanity was going to become a losing battle.

  “Then tell me what you found on the computer.”

  He turned his attention to her other breast, clearly not in the mood to chat.

  “Actually I’m not sure,” he muttered.

  Disappointment sliced through the dizzying desire, making her stiffen beneath him.

  “Dammit,” she snarled. “I knew you—”

  He pressed his lips to her mouth to halt her furious words, waiting
until she was melting beneath his kiss before he lifted his head to meet her angry gaze.

  “I’m serious, Mia,” he said in low tones. “Teagan muttered something about looking closer at one of the videos and then took off.”

  She stared up at his face, which was shadowed with an early morning beard and flushed with sleep. Even with his hair tousled he was still dazzlingly beautiful in the golden sunlight.

  “Does he think it’s a clue?” she asked, a small ray of hope flickering to life.

  Right now it was easy to forget the world outside and the fact that someone might very well be trying to kill her. But she couldn’t hide in the protection of Lucas’s arms forever.

  “Who knows?” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “The last I heard he was driving back to Houston so he could run the data through HAL.”

  “Hal?” She furrowed her brow. Was that another ARES member?

  “HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey. That’s what I call his computer setup at our office. It looks like something out of the future,” he explained, leaning down to press a light kiss to her lips.

  Almost as if he couldn’t keep himself from touching her. The thought made her heart clench with a joy that should have terrified her.

  “He must have told you something,” she breathed.

  He traced his hands down the curve of her waist and over her hips. At the same time, he shifted his weight so he could settle between her legs.

  “Teagan is a closet drama queen,” he said, his lips skimming over her cheek. “He disappears with a vague promise of discovering new intel and then reappears with answers that always manage to dazzle us.”

  Her breath tangled in her throat as he kissed his way down her neck and into the valley between her breasts.

  “I hope you’re right,” she choked out. She didn’t know much about Teagan, but if he was anything like Lucas, she could at least be certain he wouldn’t be satisfied until he achieved his goal.

  “Haven’t you learned by now that I’m always right?” he demanded, continuing to move down her body as he pressed searing kisses against her responsive flesh.

  Mia squirmed beneath him, allowing her legs to part as he feathered kisses over the clenched muscles of her stomach.

  “Do you want me to answer that?”

  “Probably not.” He tickled her belly button with the tip of his tongue. “There’s nothing we can do but wait for Teagan to return.”