Wild Mountain Men - Complete Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4 E-Book

Vale Vanessa

• Herausgeber: Vanessa Vale
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Lose yourself in Cutthroat, Montana! If you liked Bridgewater County, you don't want to miss this hot series full of wild mountain men!

Not only does each book have two possessive cowboys, there's a murder in Cutthroat. It's a 4-book steamy mystery!

Boxed set includes:

Book 1- Mountain Darkness

Book 2 - Mountain Delights

Book 3- Mountain Desire

Book 4- Mountain Danger

Leseprobe

Wild Mountain Men - Complete Boxed Set

Books 1 - 4

Vanessa Vale

Mountain Danger, Mountain Delights, Mountain Desire, Mountain Darkness - Copyright © 2019 & 2020 by Vanessa Vale

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from both authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design: Bridger Media

Cover graphic: Deposit Photos: EpicStockMedia

Get A Free Book!

Join my mailing list to be the first to know of new releases, free books, special prices and other author giveaways.

http://freeromanceread.com

Contents

Mountain Darkness

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Mountain Delights

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Mountain Desire

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Mountain Danger

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Note From Vanessa

Join the Wagon Train!

Get A Free Book!

Also By Vanessa Vale

About Vanessa Vale

Mountain Darkness

1

KIT

I stuck my arm out from beneath the covers and slapped at the top of my alarm clock to shut it up. God, it was too early. Even though the sun was peeking beneath my blinds, I wanted to snuggle deeper for a few more hours. Groaning, I kicked my legs out and sat up. Last night’s wedding had gone smoothly; at least the bride and groom had thought so. Erin and I had been able to sober up the groom’s uncle with two cups of coffee in time for family photos. They never knew the veggie medley on the sit-down meals hadn’t been a medley at all, but solo broccoli.

While the couple had a wedding day, and most likely night, to remember, mine had been less exciting. For my wild Saturday night, I’d picked up the daily lottery ticket for my mother on the way home, kicked off my heels by the front door, then fell into bed like a tree being cut down and slept until… the annoying alarm.

We had a breakfast meeting with our new—and biggest—client, and all this work was why I’d returned to Cutthroat, but a few extra hours of sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

I didn’t smell any coffee brewing, which meant Erin was still asleep. She’d scheduled the early meeting, so the least she could have done was get up first and get the caffeine injection ready.

Already grouchy, I quickly made my bed, then padded out of my room and down the hall, tugging my sleep shirt down. I made it as far as the couch in the great room, then stopped. Stared. Blinked. I wasn’t quite awake, my mind not firing on all cylinders, but seeing Erin sprawled on the floor, I went fully alert between one heartbeat and the next.

“Erin!” I shouted, dropping to my knees before her. Her blonde hair was matted to her head with blood. So much of it was soaked into the carpet. Her blue eyes stared up at me, vacant and empty. “Oh my god, Erin. Wake up!”

Rationally, I knew she was dead. Her eyes weren’t moving. Her lips were gray. The side of her head… god, it was bad. Irrationally, I lifted it onto my lap, brushed her hair back, kept telling her to wake up. When I realized I was smearing the blood, I stopped. I started to shake, to look around to figure out how she’d ended up like this. Help. She needed help.

Carefully, I laid her back on the floor and ran to my room, grabbed my cell from the charger. With shaky fingers, I tried to swipe my screen for access. “Come on,” I whimpered, but my fingers were covered in blood and it wouldn’t work. I wiped them on my sleep shorts and tried again.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“I… my friend… she’s dead. Oh god. You have to send an ambulance.”

“Ma’am, what is your address?”

I told her, then answered all the questions she tossed at me in her efficient voice. I stayed on the line with her until I heard sirens, then hung up and ran outside. Erin’s house was a custom build with all wood and glass, with more rooms than one person needed. It sat in a high-end enclave of homes with large lots and great views that would make a big dent in most people’s bank accounts, but not Erin’s. She was a Mills. I ran down the front walk in my bare feet to meet the fire truck and ambulance that had pulled into the circular drive and pointed toward the house.

“Are you hurt?” one of the paramedics asked, looking me over as the others went inside.

I shook my head. “It’s… it’s not my blood. I found her.”

I followed him back into the house where the other paramedic and three firemen stood in the two-story great room in front of river rock fireplace, but weren’t doing anything to help Erin. One was speaking into a walkie talkie, although I wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying.

I looked down at Erin by the couch, just as I’d left her. The responders weren’t doing anything because they knew she was dead. She looked dead, even wearing her familiar black yoga pants and white tank top, the shirt stained with blood on the right side.

“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?” a firefighter asked, taking in my appearance. “Did you get in a fight?”

My mouth dropped open. “What? No. I… I just woke up. I found her like that.” I pointed toward Erin.

“Why are you covered in blood?”

I spun about at the voice. It wasn’t any of the first responders, but someone else. Someone I knew, just by the deep tone of his words.

“Nix,” I whispered.

The man who’d starred in the bulk of my late-night fantasies stood before me in all his six feet plus glory. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt, a prized rodeo belt buckle about his waist. A service pistol was in a holster on his hip right next to the badge, and right next to that… his bulge.

I blinked, looked away. God, my roommate was dead, and I was ogling Nixon Knight’s package. But it was Nix. Everything about him was familiar, like coming home, even though I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Even though he was one of the reasons I’d left Cutthroat. Even though he had zero interest in me. That had me glancing away, my cheeks flushing. Not from being caught, but from the shame from last year. My wasted imaginings. My misplaced love.

“Kit,” he replied, reaching out and settling his hand on my shoulder and bending at the waist so his dark eyes met mine. “You’re not hurt?”

His gaze was shrewd, assessing, taking in every inch of me.

“No. This is all hers.” I lifted my hands, then dropped them. “I… went to help her, but… but there was nothing to do. I called 9-1-1.”

I wanted to run into his arms, have him hug me tight and make all the bad stuff go away, but he wasn’t here as a friend, or even past almost-boyfriend. He was working. I was his job.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said.

I bit my lip, glanced away from his scrutiny. “Um… last month.”

“You’re staying here with Erin?”

“Yes. I’m working with her at Mills Moments.” He looked confused. “Her event planning business.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I was saving up some money to get a place of my own. We’ve been really busy though, handling a few smaller events—like a wedding last night. Most of our time lately has been on a big client, handling all of the catering, the parties and marketing events for Eddie Nickel’s new movie. We were to meet him this morning.”

Eddie Nickel was a famous movie star, but had a house in Cutthroat. Had two kids. Shane, was a few years older than me, but Poppy had been in my high school class. Both of them grew up here with a nanny while Eddie had been in Hollywood or on location filming.

“On a Sunday?”

I shrugged. “They work every day when on location.”

“I’ll have someone get in touch with him,” he replied. Obviously, I wasn’t making that meeting. Neither was Erin. I swallowed hard, realizing how awful that was. Tears threatened, but I willed them back.

He walked toward Erin’s body, but not too close, squatted down, took in everything. I knew he was seeing things I couldn’t.

After a minute, he stood and turned to me. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know what happened to her. I… was sleeping and came out to make coffee. Found her, then called 9-1-1.”

“Where’s your bedroom?” He glanced around the space. The huge kitchen was open to the great room, a curving staircase was to the side of the fireplace.

I pointed down the hall and to the back of the house. “Behind the kitchen. Erin’s room is upstairs. The second floor is pretty much a huge master suite.”

He glanced the way I’d indicated, then back at me. “Why are you covered in blood?”

I looked down at myself, turned my hands palm up and saw how they were completely covered, then told him how I’d settled her on my lap, wondered how she’d hit her head, all of it. Which wasn’t much, the first responders quietly listening. Only the walkie talkie voice cut through the silence.

I shivered, crossed my arms over my chest when I realized I was standing in front of Nix and five other men in just a skimpy tank top—without a bra—and little sleep shorts. Glancing down, I saw my nipples poking against the stretchy cotton, but then I saw all the blood on me. The yellow color was stained, my hands were covered, my arms smeared. There was even some on my blue striped shorts and thigh.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

I glanced up from my BFF’s blood. “Last night, at the Red Barn. At the wedding we planned.”

It was a familiar reception spot that was out of town on ten acres of land, a beautiful old barn renovated for a variety of functions.

“I left before she did, said she had plans after,” I added.

“What were they?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. She didn’t share, but I’m guessing a guy.”

“Was the front door open?” He angled his head toward the currently-open entry. The morning was cool, like every summer morning in Montana, but it would heat up as the sun climbed higher.

I frowned. Thought. “No. I opened it when I heard the sirens.”

“Was it locked?”

“No.” I shivered again.

“I see an alarm pad there by the door.” He pointed to the high-end system. “It wasn’t armed?”

“She never set it that I know of. I don’t know the code. Can I… can I go get a sweatshirt or something?” The blood on my hands had dried, making the skin feel tight.

“I’ll go with you, but the crime scene team needs to do their job.”

“Crime scene?” I repeated.

His dark brow went up. “She didn’t trip, Kit.” He looked to Erin’s body on the floor. “She was murdered.”

2

NIX

Kit Lancaster.

Jesus, Kit fucking Lancaster.

Here. In Cutthroat. I’d wondered where she’d gone. Not gone. Fled. She’d literally left in the middle of the night, and I had no fucking idea why. One day she was coming over for dinner, the next she’d moved to Billings. No call. No text. Not even a fucking sticky note.

We hadn’t dated, since meeting for coffee to talk about the Policemen’s Ball didn’t count. And kissing? A peck on her cheek definitely didn’t count. I’d wanted so much more. Fuck, I’d wanted everything with her. I’d hoped she’d return to town because she was the one who’d gotten away. The one I still wanted, even after a year. Hell, she was The One.

And now? The woman of my dreams, of every one of my erotic fantasies, was mixed up in murder.

This morning, seeing Erin Mills dead on her living room floor had been a stunner, but seeing Kit covered in blood… fuck, I’d aged ten years seeing her like that, thinking she’d been seriously hurt. It had covered her hands, her forearms, even her sleep clothes and down her legs. I’d wanted to grab her, hold her, take her away from the horror she’d woken up to. But that was the last thing I could have done. I was a detective, and she was… in a fuck ton of trouble.

She’d been covered in evidence. Without realizing, she’d tampered with a crime scene when she’d gone to help Erin. Her DNA was not only all over the house since she’d been staying there, but all over a dead woman who’d been brutally murdered. It was my job to find out what had happened, to bring a criminal to justice. There was protocol. Steps to follow. One of them wasn’t hugging a witness—a potential suspect—and messing with evidence.

Fuck. That had been twelve hours ago, and I was still thinking of her. My shift was over, and I was driving toward the Mills Moments’ office. I didn’t dare tell anyone my head hadn’t been focusing on the victim, but the roommate. The co-worker.

Kit had been beautiful standing just inside the great room, even with her haunted eyes, the adrenaline surge of panic making her shake. Perfect. Her dark hair had been tousled from sleep. No make-up graced her round face. She’d looked girl-next-door perfect in her little sleep outfit. It had been sexy as hell, except for the fucking blood. The dead body. That was what had kept my dick from getting hard in front of the first responders.

I pulled up to a red light, shifted in my seat.

I’d been protective of Kit before, but now? Had someone meant to actually kill Erin Mills or had the murderer been there for Kit? Had Erin gotten in the way? Why hadn’t Kit heard anything? So many questions unanswered.

“Think she’ll be there?” Donovan asked, breaking into my thoughts. I had him on speakerphone, updating my friend on the case. As prosecutor in the District Attorney’s office, it would be coming his way. Eventually. Once we had an arrest. But he wasn’t asking after Kit because of the case. It was because she was back in town. Back in the middle of a total cluster fuck. After I left the crime scene team to their job at the Mills’ house, I’d called Donovan, told him what happened. Told him that Kit was back, that she was in the middle of it. He hadn’t known she’d been back in Cutthroat because he would have told me. We’d been waiting to get in front of her again. Get a chance to tell her how we felt, to make her ours.

That’s right. Ours.

I flipped my blinker, turned down Main Street. For a Saturday night in Cutthroat, the street was busy, filled with tourists and townies enjoying the spectacular weather. There was nothing better than summer in Montana, except for winter when the black diamonds on Cutthroat Mountain had epic powder.

I thought of Donovan’s question. Would she be at the Mills Moments’ office? “No way she went to her mom’s. As far as I know, Mrs. Lancaster hasn’t left her house in years.” Kit’s home life had been a fucking disaster. Her dad left when she was six, and it had done a number on her mom. Depression and anxiety turned into extreme hoarding and agoraphobia. Kit had pretty much raised herself and taken care of her mom.

“From what Kit told me last year, grocery delivery and online shopping has helped with that. Obviously, Erin’s a dead end.” I sighed, rubbed a hand over my face. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Donovan chuckled. “She could be at a hotel.”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “I checked with the hotels. No room in her name.” That was the perk of being a detective. “The office is left.”

I flipped my visor down, the sun blinding me as it sank low in the sky.

With the town nestled between national parks and endless backcountry people came to Montana to enjoy, Cutthroat was a popular town. Innocently named for the local trout in the river that flowed along the east side of town, it might have been small, but it had crime. What town didn’t? There was enough to keep me on the payroll. And busy. The last murder was back in 1984 when a woman killed her husband with a chainsaw after discovering he’d cheated on her with a nun from the convent on the way to Missoula. This case though, was different.

I’d put a request in for Erin’s financials, phone records, the usual data. I discovered the Mills Moments’ office was on the second floor of one of the historic buildings on the east end of town. Loaded with ritzy shops and outfitter stores aimed at the rich outdoorsmen, that address meant her event planning business was doing well. Well enough to need a partner in Kit.

After the paramedics took Kit to the hospital—to ensure she wasn’t hurt and to catalog her clothes and collect DNA samples—I’d waited for the crime scene investigators and coroner. It had taken hours to photograph the body, process everything, type up the reports, deal with my boss, the newspaper. News of a murder spread quickly, especially when it was Erin Mills.

The autopsy would take place tomorrow, and the evidence was being processed. There was nothing else to do tonight. Except find Kit.

“All I know is that they cut her loose from the hospital after a few hours,” I added.

“An officer took her to her car.”

“She was living with Erin, and she can’t stay there since it’s a crime scene. And with a murderer on the loose, it could be dangerous.”

“I have a deputy at Erin’s house keeping an eye on things.”

“You mean keeping an eye out for the Mills family going in and tossing Kit’s stuff to the curb for the trash pick-up.”

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “That, too,” I practically growled.

The Mills family was one of the richest in town with a house that looked like a Swiss ski lodge that could house thirty. It was nestled on a bluff with only the best view their money could buy. The Mills were founding members of the town back in the silver rush. Besides the McMansion, they owned a huge ranch outside of town, plus a few buildings on Main Street… including the one where Erin’s office was located. A Mills had been mayor back in the eighties. Hell, the family had even donated money for the cancer wing at the hospital.

I went to school with Erin’s older brother, Lucas, so I knew both of them had trust funds from their grandparents. Knowing Lucas, no one would think he had money, but Erin? Her fancy house was something I’d never be able to afford on a detective’s salary, even if I won the lottery. Not that I aspired to something so… big or blatant.

Giving Mr. and Mrs. Mills the news their daughter had been murdered—her skull bashed in by a glass Volunteer of the Year award… fuck, it had been bad. Not only were they distraught, but they were pissed. Out for blood. I had no doubt they’d rounded up their lawyers and began an investigation of their own because they doubted my abilities. I was born on the same side of the tracks as Kit. It didn’t matter I had a degree in criminology or years of experience.

I also had no doubt if they found the killer before the police did, they wouldn’t let the courts decide the case. They’d dish up some vigilante justice. This was Montana, after all.

Keith and Ellen Mills’ comments today when I’d told them the news only confirmed what I’d already known. They didn’t like Kit Lancaster. Never had. They believed she wasn’t good enough for their daughter, a “bad influence” because of her crazy mother. I didn’t doubt they’d railroad her for the crime.

Donovan had known Kit as long as I had. Middle school. Had wanted her just as long, too. Yeah, two twelve-year-olds eyeing the cute girl in braces. Total puppy love. We hadn’t done anything with her in high school though, not when our hormones were running wild and we got hard-ons just seeing her smile. She hadn’t given us the time of day. Not that she’d had any time. She’d gone to class and worked as a waitress at the local diner to make ends meet while dealing with her mom’s mental illness. After, she’d gone to the local community college, but both Donovan and I had left Cutthroat for the state school in Missoula. I’d heard she’d been dating Erin’s brother, Lucas.

Unlike his parents, he was a decent guy. Didn’t give a shit about being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I hadn’t worried about him not being good to Kit, but I’d wished it had been me instead. I’d been away at college and couldn’t blame either one of them.

But they’d broken up when he’d gone into the National Guard. Been deployed. When he finally returned, he hadn’t joined the family’s real estate empire like his father wanted. He’d done his own thing and returned to Cutthroat to run a non-profit, using his money to help others, but he and Kit hadn’t gotten back together.

I’d returned after graduation, got a job as a cop, but Donovan had stayed for law school. Only after he passed the bar did he return. Then, we started stopping into the diner to see her. We’d go together and on our own, sit in her section, talk her up.

We’d finally connected working together on the planning committee for the Policemen’s Ball. I hadn’t been thrilled with the task since a dance of any kind wasn’t my thing, but it had been a fundraiser, the event supporting families of officers who had died or been injured in the line of duty. We’d gotten to know Kit, hoping she’d warm up to the idea of two men wanting her. Until she’d fled town without any notice.

Maybe we shouldn’t have been so subtle. Or so slow.

Now she was back, and I wasn’t losing the opportunity again, even with a fucking murder investigation in the middle of it all. Her mother was no support at all. The one friend we knew she had in town was dead. For someone so fucking sweet, she had enemies in the Mills, and that meant people all over town would hate her. Kit needed both of us now. And we weren’t taking it slow any longer. We were letting her know how we felt. Tonight. Right fucking now.

I pulled into a parking spot, cut the engine of my police SUV, rubbed my eyes. “So far, she’s the prime suspect.”

“If it’s not a crime of passion, next up on the list of usual suspects is family.”

“I’m not telling Keith or Ellen Mills they’re prime suspects,” I told him, practically shuddering at the thought. “I’d be fired by morning. We’ll investigate them, but I’ll let Miranski deal with them as much as possible.” The other detective on the force hadn’t grown up in Cutthroat and didn’t know the players like I did. She could deal.

“Smart. You don’t fucking think Kit did it, do you?”

I was insulted he even asked.

“Fuck, no. I doubt she had the strength to dent a skull like that.”

The memory of Erin’s skull bashed in would stick with me forever.

“Erin was almost a foot taller than Kit. Unless Erin was sitting on the floor or Kit stood on the coffee table to hit her, the angle is all wrong.”

I’d been on murder scenes before, but it was hard to handle it objectively when it was someone I’d known most of my life. I hadn’t been friends with her, but being Lucas’s sister, we’d all pretty much grown up together. Cutthroat was small enough.

“It’s your job to find someone else.”

I sighed because he was stating the obvious. It was my job to find and collect evidence, discover motive and means, then find a fucking killer. It was his job to see they were found guilty and spent the rest of their life behind bars. The case was in my hands now, but would—hopefully—be in his soon. He was the one with the pressure of having the mayor for a father. I was content for my dad to be a plumber.

Climbing from the vehicle, I took the phone off speaker. “Getting there. First, I’ve got to get our girl, keep her safe. I’m out front of her office now.” I looked up at the second-floor windows. “Light’s on.”

“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes,” he said.

“I want to put a ring on Kit’s finger and get her in my bed. Get her between us. The way it’s looking”—I ran my free hand over the back of my neck—“I might have to put cuffs on her and stick her in a jail cell.”

“As you said, fuck no. She’s got us now. I want to put the cuffs on her and secure her to my bed.”

Abso-fucking-lutely.

3

KIT

Everyone in Cutthroat had heard about Erin. With twenty thousand people, it was big enough that I didn’t know everybody, but everybody knew Erin Mills, or at least the Mills family. Word traveled like a wildfire in a summer drought. Everyone was trying to get the inside scoop, the gossip. From me. They didn’t care that it was gruesome, that Erin was my friend, that she’d had her head bashed in.

After I’d been cleared from the hospital and taken to my car—with the stern instructions not to leave town until the detective was able to take my official statement—I’d gone to the office.

I had nowhere else to go. Living with Erin had been temporary. I’d wanted to save up a little money, since almost every penny I had would go to a deposit and first month’s rent. I didn’t have much stuff; my mother’s hoarding nature had taught me to be the opposite, keeping only what was vital. I had a TV and couch, even a bed, but they were in a storage unit until I found my own place. That wasn’t going to happen now, at least not anything halfway decent or safe.

“It’s all over the news.” Mom was anxious and that was not good. Her voice, usually wound up, had a shrill quality to it through the phone.

“Yes, I know,” I replied, pacing the space as I let her talk. I’d called to let her know I was fine, that she shouldn’t worry. Oh, she worried, but not about me.

“You don’t think they’ll come here, do you?”

I frowned. “Who? The murderer?”

She gasped. Shit, wrong thing to say. “I hadn’t thought of that. I am alone.”

I rolled my eyes. She was intentionally alone. Her mental illness didn’t allow for anything else. Her meds were balanced, but like a teeter totter, one tip in the wrong direction and she’d be in trouble. Her hoarding had gotten to the extreme where no one would even attempt to harm her since there was barely any way for someone to get to her. I didn’t worry about a crazed lunatic bent to bash her head in. I worried about fire.

“You’re safe. Really. It had to be someone who knew Erin and they had a fight.”

That’s what I was hoping for.

“The police won’t come here, right?”

“They have no reason to.”

“But you were there, you said.”

“Yes, I was.” I dropped onto the couch, tried not to let the image of Erin dead on the floor fill my mind. “Mom, nothing for you has changed, or will change.”

“Did you get my lottery ticket? What about the electricity bill?”

I blew out a breath as silently as possible. “Yes, to both. I’ve got to go. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” I ended the call, dropped my phone on the cushion beside me. Wondered how I was going to pay mom’s light bill without a job.

Obviously, I couldn’t stay with my mom. It hadn’t been an option since just after high school. Her anxiety was too great to have me in the house, and her hoarding had buried my bedroom in junk. I couldn’t risk setting her off. If a murder didn’t bring out her motherly instincts to have me stay at the house, then nothing would.

Reaching into the desk, I found a hair tie and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, sighed. Hell, would someone even rent to me? I hadn’t been questioned more than the few minutes with Nix at the house, but it was coming. I’d been just down the hall when she’d been killed. Why hadn’t I heard anything?

The ER had taken samples from me for DNA. Photos taken. I’d been looked over to ensure I really hadn’t been hurt beneath all the blood, then a kind nurse had led me to a shower and given me clean clothes. I looked down at the basic white t-shirt, sweats and flip flops. It wasn’t stylish, but it was blood free.

The office phone had been ringing all day. At first, I’d worried one of our events was in trouble, but quickly discovered it was everyone from Erin’s hair stylist to the city paper’s crime desk trying to get the salacious details.

After that, I’d left the phone off the hook and had myself a good cry. I was used to being alone, but this… god, it was a whole new level.

I’d crash here tonight, the leather sofa was comfortable enough—Erin wouldn’t have bought something that wasn’t comfortable—and figure out the rest tomorrow. I’d have to salvage what was left of the events we had on the books. If people still wanted to work with us.

Not us. Me.

Fuck. Erin was dead. It was her company.

I jumped a foot at the knock on the door.

“Kit, it’s Nix.”

My heart skipped a beat and I climbed from the couch, flipped the lock and let him in. He looked the same as this morning, his gaze still shrewd and assessing. Still handsome in that tall, broad and gorgeous sort of way. He had whiskers now on his square jaw and I wondered if they were soft or rough. God, how would they feel brushing against my thighs?

“You doing okay?” he asked, closing the door behind him. He looked me over, probably saw that I looked like total crap, that I’d been crying. At least I wasn’t covered in blood.

I laughed, partially from thinking about him going down on me, and partly because after the day I’d had, I was anything but okay. I sighed. “My friend is dead. I have no place to live. My paycheck is probably tied up in probate, and I’m definitely out of a job. The only way to make it worse is if you’re here to arrest me.”

His dark gaze held mine but he didn’t say anything.

“God, you are here to arrest me.” I licked my lips. Started to panic. While I’d been thinking about him going down on me, he’d been planning to—

“I’m not arresting you. But I’m not going to lie. You’re a suspect right now.”

I wanted to cry again, but I swallowed it down. No. “You’re here to take me in for questioning?” My voice was small, nervous. I didn’t have money for a lawyer.

He shook his head. “Tomorrow.”

“So no leads? No smoking gun?”

“Nope. Here. I brought you some of your clothes.” I recognized my small overnight bag he held out toward me. “I found this on the floor of your closet. I wasn’t sure exactly what you needed. This should hold you until the house is released and you can get everything.”

The thought of him digging around in my closet, god, in my panty drawer, had me blushing. Those big hands pawing through my silk and lace. None of it was fancy, and I always bought from the clearance rack, but I did like cute underthings.

“Thank you.”

“I’m also here to take you home.”

“I can just stay here. I’ve napped on the couch before. It’s comfortable.”

His shrewd gaze took in the space. “It’s not a crime scene, but we’ll be in here tomorrow working the case.”

I glanced around. “Oh.” Right. Of course. They had to investigate all aspects of Erin’s life. Her computer was here. Paperwork. It probably wasn’t good that I stayed here. It could only make things worse for me. Now what was I going to do?

Holding my hands in front of me, I said, “I’m not going to my mother’s. I talked to her, calmed her down. She was worried if I stay with her, people will call or come over. She can’t handle that. You remember what she’s like.” I downplayed it a bit because I didn’t need any more pity where Mom was concerned.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“She’s worse now. Her world’s a house of cards, or a house of old newspapers, online purchases and rooms stuffed to the gills with… stuff. One slight change in her routine and she falls apart. I’ve visited a few times since I’ve been back, but not more than a few minutes because it kicks in her anxiety. Our only interaction now is me paying her bills online and talking by phone.”

I saw understanding more than sympathy in his eyes. School had been rough, kids picking on me because I had a crazy mom, a crazy house. Nix had never poked fun, not once. “Not your mom’s. You’ll come home with me.”

I stared at him, mouth open. I’d have been less surprised if he’d said he was arresting me. “Home… with you?”

He nodded.

I frowned, then turned away, walked over to the window and looked down on Main Street. The world was going by, no problems, enjoying the summer evening, the restaurants and cute shops. The idea of going home with him… god, it had been a fantasy of mine for years. But no. No. I had to stop thinking about silly things like that or him eating me out. He didn’t want to go there not on me or any woman. There had to be a better explanation, one that made sense.

“You’re worried I’m going to flee, is that it?”

I heard him sigh. “The murderer is out there. I don’t want you here all alone.”

I spun so fast, the world tilted for a moment. Met Nix’s dark gaze. “You think… you think the person was after me?” I set a hand on my chest. Holy shit.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “We have no reason to believe so, but you were there. Hell, maybe he went to the wrong house. Until we know more, I want to keep you safe.”

He stepped close to me, too close, and tucked a stray lock of hair I’d missed capturing in my ponytail back behind my ear. A simple gesture, but not one a detective does to a suspect.

The idea of Nix keeping me safe was so appealing, I practically ached. I didn’t want to do this all alone. I would, I always had. I’d taken care of my mom instead of the other way around. I still did. But having Nix help me? Hold me? God, keep me safe and take away these troubles?

“Safe,” I repeated woodenly.

No. That wasn’t going to happen. Nix was a fixer. He solved problems. Made things right. That was his job. As detective, I was his job. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want just that. I wanted more from him. So much more. I’d had a crush on him in high school, practically drooled over him whenever he came home from college. We’d gone out a few times to talk about the Policemen’s Ball. Dinner. Coffee. He’d never taken me to his place, never even made out in a car. A kiss on my cheek at my apartment door was as far as we’d ever gotten, but I’d given him my heart—although he’d never known that. Unrequited love, at least on my part.

But I’d learned the truth, learned he’d never wanted me. I wasn’t his type and that had hurt. That had cut to the bone. Had pushed me to leave town.

While I appreciated his concern—I doubted he invited every suspect to stay at his house—I couldn’t accept. My heart couldn’t handle it. A year away should have lessened my feelings for him, but no. Fuck no. I still wanted those big hands on me. I wanted to feel the play of those strong muscles beneath my hands. Wondered what those lips would feel like against mine, other places.

Pure fantasy and I should have been over it by now. He didn’t want me. He didn’t want me—or any other woman—at all. I’d hoped the year away would fix my emotions, but no.

Pulling my mind from the gutter, I said, “I’m fine here.” I held my arm out indicating the couch. Erin’s wealth showed in how she’d decorated the office. Shabby chic all in creams and soft pink. Modern glass mixed with the old brick walls and exposed wood beams. She even had a drink cart in the corner. High end, just like Erin.

“Kit,” he said on a sigh, trying to reach for me again, but he must have seen something on my face because he let it drop. “That’s not the only reason I want you in my house. I—”

“How’s Donovan?” I asked, stepping back, cutting him off.

He frowned, clearly surprised by the question. “He’s fine.”

Donovan Nash was the other man who’d hit every one of my hot buttons. The opposite of Nix. Fair, built like a tank. Equally hot. And nice. And funny. And… lots of ands. He’d joined us on a few occasions planning the ball, but nothing had come of it, no matter how much I’d wanted it to. I’d been crazy to lust after two men. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and it was obvious why. It made me feel really stupid. Silly, for thinking not only one hot guy might be interested in me, but two.

“I can’t let you stay here.” I’d never seen him look at me like this before. Something dark and predatory. Possessive.

Still, it was misplaced and that was like a knife to my insides.

“I know you like to protect people—”

“I want to protect you,” he said, cutting me off. “I thought… I thought we had something going. Before.”

“Before I left town?” I asked, starting to get pissed. He was messing with me.

“Why’d you leave, Kit?” he asked.

As if he didn’t know.

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? You’re asking me that now?”

“You’ve been back five weeks and the first I learn of it… the first I see you is this morning covered in your friend’s blood.”

“Like I said, now?” I was tired, scared, panicked and all that bled over into frustration and anger.

“I thought we were friends.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I thought we were more than that.”

The office door opened and I jumped. Yup, scared. Nix turned and stuck his arm out, as if shielding me from whomever it was.

Donovan stuck his head into the office, grinned. My heart flipped. That panty-melting smile hadn’t changed a bit since I’d seen him last, an instant reminder of why I’d left town and that I wasn’t over him either.

I was interested in both of these men. Still. Crazy. Insane! One of the things I’d thought about during the year I’d been away. Why would I want two men? Why would I want two men who didn’t want me? Who wanted each other?

“Kitty Kat,” he said, coming into the room and pulling me into a hug. He felt hard… everywhere. Warm. Comforting. God, his scent. I thought I’d forgotten that, but no. It was engrained in my mind. And the nickname he had for me. None of it had gone away. “Nix said you were back, but Jesus, woman, when you come back, you don’t go subtle.”

He wasn’t smiling when he said it. Of course, he knew what had happened. Working in the DA’s office gave him direct access to whatever Nix and his team uncovered.

“I’m sorry about Erin,” he murmured, looking me over.

No doubt he could tell I’d been crying. I was wearing hospital-supplied clothes and looked a disaster. I hadn’t even been able to do more than finger-comb my hair after the hospital shower.

“Fuck, it’s horrible.”

He stepped back, stood beside Nix. The two of them—gasp!—together. One dark, the other fair. One serious, the other… playful. Nix had two inches on Donovan, but Donovan had the heft, the bulk of a college football player. Both of them had my heart and they were going to walk out the door, go off to the house they shared and leave me out of the middle. They didn’t want me there, didn’t need me. They had each other.

He tipped his head toward Nix. “He’ll find out what happened.”

“I know.” I did. Nix would discover the truth, would find the killer. “What are you doing here?” It was one thing for the detective on a case to show up and question a suspect, but the prosecutor? Oh. “God, do I need a lawyer?”

I looked to Nix.

“What?” Donovan asked, a little crease denting his brow. “Hell, no. I’m here with Nix to take you home. Let’s get going.”

“Going?”

“You’re coming home with us,” Donovan added, repeating exactly what Nix had said before he’d arrived. So they were living together now. Just great.

Yeah, that was never going to happen. I couldn’t stay under the same roof as the two of them. My heart couldn’t handle it.

“She hasn’t agreed,” Nix told him.

“Why the hell not? There’s a murderer out there. Fuck, just the thought of you sleeping just down the hall while he—” Donovan’s hands clenched into fists, but he didn’t finish his statement. He might be an attorney, but he wasn’t soft.

Anywhere.

“I was asking her why she left town,” Nix said.

“This isn’t an interrogation,” I countered.

“I think we deserve an answer.”

“Yeah, Kitty Kat, why did you leave?” God, when Donovan called me that…

I couldn’t look at them. They were too perfect. Too much for my heart to take. This day had been horrible. My life was a nightmare. It couldn’t get any worse by sharing the truth with these two. I didn’t have them. They weren’t mine and never would be. Saying it aloud wouldn’t change a thing. They’d leave, I’d settle into the sofa for the night. Finally, perhaps, let them go.

“Fine.” I turned, put my hands on my desk, stared down at the glossy surface. “I left because of you two.”

“Us?” Nix asked, his dark brows winging up. “You should have stayed because of us.”

Tears filled my eyes as I shook my head. “I couldn’t stay in town. I’d been stupid.”

“For wanting us?” Nix asked.

“Both of us?” Donovan added, sounding strangely hopeful about that.

I nodded, turned to face them. I tipped my chin up, met their gazes. “I wanted both of you, but you guys didn’t want me. You don’t need me. You have each other.”

The looked at each other, then back at me. “What the hell are you talking about?” Nix asked.

“You want me to spell it out for you?”

Donovan set his hands on his hips. Even though he worked in the DA’s office, he wasn’t wearing a suit, instead navy pants and a button-down shirt. Not quite a cowboy, but definitely not a city slicker. “Yes.”

“You’re in love with each other, not me,” I shouted.

4

DONOVAN

What. The. Fuck?

Kit thought we were gay? She thought Nix and I were together?

I stared at her.

Nix stared at her.

She was serious. Out of all the possibilities she could have come up with, this one never, ever, entered my mind.

“Kitty Kat, I don’t know if I should spank your ass or kiss you,” I said finally.

She was so damned pretty. She’d always been a tiny package, not even coming up to my shoulders. Yet she had curves. Lots of them. Even in the drab sweatpants and white t-shirt two sizes too large—which didn’t hide the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra—she was perfect. From her hot pink toenails to her wild hair and every soft inch in between. And it was those soft inches I’d fantasized as I rubbed one out. For years.

Her chocolate colored eyes were red rimmed from crying, but it was what I could see in them, the honesty, the truth behind her words. She’d wanted us, but somehow, in some fucked up way, got the idea Nix and I were into each other and not her.

Words weren’t going to work here.

“Fuck it,” I said, stepping up to her, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her. This wasn’t a sisterly fucking peck. Oh no. I devoured her, swallowed her gasp, claimed that hot, sweet mouth as mine. There was no fucking way she’d think we were gay now.

Nix growled, an animalistic sound I could relate to. I lifted my head, stepped back, watched Kit sway. Her eyes were closed, her lips red and glistening. Nix nudged me out of the way and kissed her next. Seeing my best friend with Kit didn’t make me jealous. It made me hard. My dick could pound nails. She’d been ours for so long and now we could finally prove it.

There was no confusion now. I’d wanted her for so long, I was beyond sexually frustrated. I was just frustrated. A misunderstanding of fucking epic proportions had driven Kit to a different fucking state. Even worse, she’d been back in Cutthroat for five weeks. Five. Fucking. Weeks. Neither Nix or I had known. More time lost.

And now… fuck, now she was mixed up in a murder? A prime suspect because she had no alibi. She’d been covered in Erin’s blood. Her DNA was all over the body. Nix had shared this much with me, but I didn’t need the details to know she was innocent. What would be her motive? Money? Did Kit want Erin dead to take over the business for herself? Had Erin made her a beneficiary in her will? Life insurance? Erin had been twenty-five, not seventy-five. If there had been a blip on any of these questions, no doubt my office would have heard by now and put Kit behind bars.

But I’d heard nothing from the Mills family. Nothing from my boss, who no doubt played golf with Keith Mills. As prosecutor, it was my job to see the murderer put behind bars. Using evidence. Motive. Means. It was Nix’s job to find all that, mine to make a jury believe it without a shadow of a doubt.

Getting involved with the prime suspect of a murder investigation? Not a smart move. Ever since my mom had been hit and killed by a drunk driver—ever since the guy had gotten off with a slap on the wrist and a few points on his license—I’d made it my mission to see bad guys get the justice they deserved. Everything I’d done since then had been to see that happen. It wouldn’t bring my mom back, but it might give others the peace of mind, the ability to sleep at night, that I didn’t get.

Besides all that, my dad would shit a brick if he knew I was getting myself in deep with Kit Lancaster. Since he was mayor, he was probably tugging at his shirt collar worrying that a killer in Cutthroat wouldn’t be found. That wouldn’t sit right with the voters. Oh, he loved having a son in the DA’s office—to him our two jobs were like peanut butter and jelly for keeping the town safe—but not one who fucked the prime suspect.

Regardless of her being called that, Kit was innocent. Sure, if she were on trial, being with her would be a disaster, not only for the case, but for my job. The defense team would cite anything from conflict of interest to tampering with the defendant. The case would be thrown out. I’d be fired. Hell, I’d probably be disbarred.

But Kit was innocent. This wasn’t some easy lay. Fuck, no. This was Kit Lancaster. I was marrying this woman. She wasn’t a murderer. She was mine. Ours.

She wouldn’t be arrested. She wouldn’t go to trial. There was no conflict of interest. Nix would prove she wasn’t involved, that she was innocent. That would come. Tonight? I was going to make sure Kit did. On my cock. On my tongue. All night long.

When Nix stepped back, he leaned down, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Fuck, yes.

“Nix!” she squealed as she pounded his back, one of her flip flops falling off, but he didn’t stop, carrying her out of the office and down the hall. “Your truck,” he called to me as he headed toward the stairs, not waiting. “And don’t forget her bag.”

Grinning, I grabbed Kit’s keys, the bag and the flip flop, turned off the lights, locked the door, then followed, shifting my dick in my pants so I could walk comfortably.

We didn’t say anything as we drove to Nix’s house, which was closer than mine. I wasn’t sure how long I could last with her soft scent filling the cab. Kit seemed stunned into silence by the kisses, by the truth behind them. I got harder thinking about how she’d react when we did more than kiss her.

Nix’s place was an old—as in serious fixer-upper—bungalow a few blocks off of Main, thankfully not more than a mile from the event planning office. He’d bought it a few years earlier and had been restoring it in his free time. The guest bedroom had no walls at the moment, which worked fine since we had no intention of using it. We’d be with Kit in Nix’s bed.

Nix opened his front door, and I took Kit’s hand, led her to the couch, tugged her into my lap.

“Donovan,” she breathed, trying to wiggle off.

I held her still with my hand at her belly, my fingers slipping beneath the t-shirt and pressing into the silky skin. Everywhere, she was soft, warm. So small, yet a perfect fit. “Kitty Kat, keep moving your ass like that and we won’t be talking.”

It was then she felt my dick pressing against her hip, hard and thick and ready to fuck, and stilled.

I wanted her. I wanted her naked and beneath me. Above me. Between me and Nix. But I wanted answers first. She’d thought we were into each other, and that meant we needed to get some shit straightened out.

Nix grabbed a chair, slid it so it was directly in front of us. Sat. One of his knees bumped her thigh. Penned her in so she couldn’t flee again. “Explain.”

I watched her swallow, look up from her lap to me, then Nix. Besides kissing her earlier, we’d never been this close before. Her eyes were dark, but a chocolate color. Freckles dotted her nose, her cheeks were flushed and her lips… I remembered just what they felt like now. Her hair, usually long and sleek, was a little wild. So were her emotions. Mine, too.

“Before I left, you invited me over to work on the Policemen’s Ball.”

Nix nodded. “I remember. Early December. We were on the committee together.”

“I… I was interested in you.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “A lot. Both of you actually.”

Hearing her say that had my dick throb. “Kitty Kat,” I growled.

“That’s why I volunteered, a reason to be with you. We’d met before for coffee and stuff to plan, but you invited me over… here.” She pushed an errant strand of hair that had escaped her messy ponytail away from her face, her elbow bumping my chest. “God, I was a mess. So nervous. I was going to tell you how I felt, that I was crazy because I was interested in both of you. I mean, two guys. I got here, went to the door and was about to knock, but I saw you guys through the window.”

She tipped her head toward the window to the right of the front door.

Nix frowned. “What did you see?”

She glanced up at me through those dark lashes. A hint of pain. Embarrassment. “You came out of Nix’s bedroom in just a towel.”

I thought back. Nix had called me, told me Kit was coming over. That it was the night to tell her how we felt. To hope she felt the same way. But she never came, and we never saw her again. Until now.

“I remember that,” I replied. “I helped someone with a flat tire on the way over. The weather had warmed up so the snow had melted some. It was sloppy. By the time I was done, I was muddy and wet. I got dirt and grease all over myself and my clothes. I took a shower to get cleaned up.”

“My guest bathroom was gutted then in the remodel,” Nix added. “He used the master.”

“But I saw you,” she said to me. “You said something to Nix. I couldn’t hear obviously since the windows were closed, but you were both smiling. Then you… you—”

“I what?” I asked, watching her blush furiously.

“You were hard. Even from the porch, I couldn’t miss it beneath the towel.”

I grinned. “I’m big, Kitty Kat.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled a little.

“I was hard for you. To finally tell you how I felt.”

“How we felt,” Nix clarified.

I sighed. “I’m sure we were talking about how we were going to get you naked and in bed. Which one of us was going to eat your pussy first.” Shifting my hips, I prodded her with my dick. “See? Just talking about it makes me even harder.”

“But then… then you went into the bedroom together,” she added. “What was I supposed to think?”

“That I pulled a pair of gym shorts and t-shirt from my clean laundry pile for him?” Nix asked.

I could see her mind starting to work, to doubt what she’d believed. “Besides that, there was the table.”

“Table?” Nix wondered.

She looked to him, pointed toward the dining room table. “Wine. Fancy plates. Like a date.”

“Exactly. Three place settings,” I said on an exhale, having set the table myself before I got in the shower.

“You invited me for chili!” she all but shouted at Nix, pushing off my lap.

I let her get up, let her pace. She was realizing the mistake had cost us all. I felt her frustration since it matched my own.

“Then there were candles! With Donovan in a towel and with a raging hard on, I thought you were into each other.”

I could see where she could have jumped to the conclusion.

“I figured you were going to tell me your secret, that you were… together. In a way, I was happy for you, that you found each other, that you were together, but sad because I’d misunderstood. I left because I felt like a fool, but also to give you space to do your thing.”

I glared at Nix. “I told you, fucker. Chili isn’t what you serve the woman you want to claim.”

Nix ground his teeth together. Took a moment before he spoke. “Donovan told me off about the stupid chili earlier in the day, that it wasn’t good enough for our first pseudo-date with you. He made me pull out the candles my mother insisted I have in the house. Donovan brought carry-out out from that Italian place you like.”

She looked between us. “Then you’re not… you don’t… you’re not gay.”

I grinned, pleased to see how relieved she was at the idea, that we knew now—from her very lips—that she was into both of us. Still.

“The only time I’m getting buck naked with Nix is if you’re between us.”

Her mouth fell open and she looked down at the two of us. Stunned. Happy. Something.

“Weren’t those kisses earlier enough proof?” I asked. We’d talked. We’d clarified. It was time to move on to more pleasurable things. My dick had been blue since the night she mentioned over a year ago. I’d wanted her then. I wanted her now.

She grinned then. So fucking beautiful. She shook her head. “No. I think I need more.”

Reaching out, I grabbed her hand, tugged her into my lap again, one of her knees settling on either side of my hips so she straddled me. “That can be arranged. Right, Nix?”

It was my turn to pick her up and carry her. This time to Nix’s room. To his bed. Nothing was going to keep us from making her ours now.

5

KIT

I hooked my legs around Donovan’s waist, crossing my ankles.

God, they weren’t in love with each other. They weren’t a couple. I’d been mistaken. So very wrong that winter night. But what I’d seen… it looked like they were a couple. But perhaps it was my insecurities about myself that had had me fleeing. I could have knocked, asked. I could have congratulated them on their relationship. Anything that would have given them a moment to clear things up.

But no. That hadn’t happened. We’d lost a year. God, I’d moved away!

I couldn’t think about that now. We were together now. Here. That was what I could focus on, and it was easy to do so when I was in Donovan’s arms. God, he felt good. So strong, so manly in comparison to me. He was hard muscled where I was soft.