What a Rich Woman Wants (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Steven had been about ready to call it a night. He'd sacked out in front of the television, halfheartedly reading through case files and doing paperwork. He'd made no other plans for this Saturday night. His workload was ridiculous, not that there'd been any increase in pay or additional staffing.

When he heard a knock, he knew who it was. Maria. She'd gotten on in the housekeeping department at the Willow Bay Beach Club for the season, working the four-to-midnight shift.

Steven opened the door and stepped back, sincerely hoping this would be the last time Maria Delgado would cross his threshold. She sashayed past and he had to admire her bravado, almost as much as he admired the swing of her hips. He tamped down the wave of lust she inspired in him. He refused to give in to the urge he'd had every time she'd been here: to take her up against the wall, use that lush body of hers. He liked to believe he'd learned some self-control these past few years. Maria Delgado could ruin him.

Perhaps that's what she has in mind
. He took a couple of careful steps toward her. She was watching him, no doubt trying to gauge his mood. He hoped he had successfully hidden his thoughts from her. She gave him a little smile as she stood there in her simple dress and her strappy sandals.

“I am very lonely since I am here,” she said, keeping her gaze on his.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Look, I've got something to tell you,” Steven began. He stopped and stared when she did something he didn't expect. With one motion she tugged the elastic neckline of the dress down to her waist, where it joined the elastic there, and she pushed the entire thing to the floor.

Steven's mouth went dry as she stepped away from the puddle of cloth. “I think you are lonely too,” she said softly.

“Maria, don't.” He nearly choked on the words.

“Is it so bad?” she asked, “if we make each other not lonely?”

“Maria…”

Her hand closed over his crotch, where his cock was already straining. He groaned. Her breasts were barely contained in a lacy black bra. He'd already had a glimpse of the matching black panties.

“Please,” she whispered. “I never forget you.” She drew the zipper of his slacks down and slid her hand inside his briefs. She knew exactly what to do because he'd taught her how to please him. On her knees now, she unbuttoned his slacks and they dropped to the floor. She drew his briefs down and looked up at him before she took him in her mouth.

“Oh, God.” He buried his fingers in her hair and let her pleasure him until he couldn't stand it anymore and he pulled back. He didn't even have to tell her. She lay back on the floor and removed her panties, tossing them in the direction of her dress. She lifted her knees and spread her legs. Steven drove into her. He didn't kiss her. Didn't fondle her breasts or suckle her nipples. Didn't even remove her bra. He only wanted this, a quick, hard fuck on an unforgiving surface, to use her body to find his own pleasure, and then he wanted her to go away.

When it was over, when he was spent, he rolled away from her and silently cursed himself. He cursed her as well, wondering what her game was. She knew her power over him, and Steven didn't like that. He hadn't liked it when it had been Lesley, and he didn't like it when it was someone like Maria. Especially since Maria had nothing to offer him except her body. No money. No influence. No powerful friends to fund his campaign. He'd be a senator by now if Maria hadn't ruined it all for him. If she hadn't seduced him, hadn't gotten pregnant. If she hadn't been the reason Lesley had kicked him out of her house, her life and access to her fortune.

He had to get rid of Maria somehow. Perhaps in this instance the truth would set him free.

He got up and barely looked at her sprawled there on his living room rug. “ Get dressed and come into the kitchen. I've got something to show you.”

He pulled his briefs up and put his pants back on, zipping them on the way to the kitchen. He filled a highball glass with ice and poured Crown Royal over it. He took a healthy swallow before he heard Maria's high heels on the tile.

She stopped on the other side of the counter and looked at him. He couldn't decipher her expression. Was she disappointed in his lovemaking? Had she expected hearts and flowers? A bed? He didn't know and didn't care.

He pushed the picture Lesley had given him across the counter. “Read it and weep,” he said.

“What is this?” She picked it up and studied it before she looked at him again.

“It's what we in the legal business like to call the complete picture, Maria. Something you should have had before you started spouting off about who your father is and what you're owed.”

Maria's brows knit together. “I do not understand. Who is this man?” She tapped the image of Bradley Robinson. “Where did you get this?”

“Lesley gave it to me. Apparently, she's a tad better at researching than you are. That,” he tapped Bradley's image as well, “is Bradley Robinson. Richard Robinson's younger brother.”

“I do not understand.”

“I'm not surprised. You never were the brightest bulb in the box.”

Maria's eyes narrowed at him, but whether she understood the metaphor he'd used, Steven had no way of knowing. “I'll spell it out for you the same way Lesley spelled it out for me, okay? This man here.” He tapped the photo again. “Richard Robinson? He is not your father. You see how this other man, Bradley Robinson, has his arm around your mother? That's your father.”

“No.” Maria shook her head. “Is not true.”

“Yes, Maria, it is. Bradley Robinson knocked your mother up, and when he refused to do the right thing by her, Richard Robinson stepped in. Bradley Robinson didn't want you, but it doesn't matter because he died before you were born. His brother Richard saw to it that you and your mother were provided for, but Richard is not your father. He's your uncle. And as such, he doesn't owe you anything. So you can stop thinking you're going to get anything out of him, or Lesley, or anyone—”

“No!” Maria shrieked. She advanced on him around the counter. “You are lying.”

She shoved at him and it pissed Steven off. He set his drink down and shoved her back against the counter. “I am not lying,” he told her through gritted teeth. “You've been lying to yourself. Nobody owes you anything, Maria. Richard allowed you to come here, to work in his house. He gave you a job and a chance, and you blew it—”

“No!” She shoved him again, harder, and Steven grunted when his lower back hit the counter behind him.

“Listen, you—”

She had whirled away to the end of the counter, pulling a knife from the butcher block on the way. She turned and waved it at him, her face contorted in fury. “They owe me,” she said in a guttural voice. “I am not some
puta
to be tossed aside.”

“Then stop acting like one, you little cunt.” Steven's own fury grew.

She slashed out at him with the knife at the same moment he gave her another good shove, wanting nothing more than to get her away from him before one of them did something really stupid.

“Augh!” She'd managed to slice his forearm with the knife before she skidded backward in her ridiculous heels, losing her balance and crashing into the wrought-iron frame of the breakfast table, sending it into the wall, where the glass top cracked before it fell through the frame and shattered into a million pieces.

Steven ran his arm under the faucet, keeping one eye on Maria in case she came after him again. She wasn't moving. He hoped she'd stunned herself good when she'd fallen. The knife had clattered across the floor. She didn't seem to be an immediate threat, so he dealt with his wound as best he could, wondering if he'd need stitches and, if so, how he'd explain such an injury.

He took a clean kitchen towel from a drawer and wrapped it tight around his arm, hoping that would be enough to stop the bleeding. Maybe he could get by with bandaging it himself later.

He looked once again across the room at the shattered table. Maria hadn't moved. While he stared, something dark and liquid began to seep across the tile. He watched in horrified, stunned surprise. Maria was bleeding.

Gingerly he stepped toward her, cradling his wounded arm next to him. He bent down, watching in sick fascination as a small pool of blood continued to spread out around her. Broken glass crunched under his shoes. He thought he felt her pulse flutter when he pressed his fingers against her throat, but then nothing.

Joy spurted through him before he could stop it. Maria Delgado was dead. She was no longer a threat to him.

Dread followed on joy's heels. Maria Delgado was dead. She was now a huge threat to him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Steven's arm throbbed, making it hard to concentrate. He looked at the blood he knew would stain the grout in the breakfast nook tile. No matter what he did, what cleaning product he used, traces of Maria's blood could still exist. If a crime scene unit came in and spritzed luminol on it, even microscopic bits of blood might be detected. Then there was the glass. His DNA. Hell, his fingerprints on the body. Carefully he backed away.

He hadn't asked for much, had he? He'd wanted to be somebody, be a political player. Marriage to Lesley had greased the wheels of that path. He'd been so close.

But Maria had messed up his carefully planned strategy. Maria, with her innocent eyes and her subservient behavior. Her willingness to please him.

He'd foolishly fallen into her trap. He hadn't seen the guile behind her eyes, hadn't suspected she'd set her sights high, just as he had when he'd married Lesley.

He'd screwed her, but she'd screwed him even better. If not for her, he'd be a state senator by now with his eyes fixed on Capitol Hill.

Even though he was six years behind schedule now, he'd thought all of that was still possible. Certainly the state senate. He'd started from scratch, doing what he had to as an assistant in the state attorney's office, paying his dues, glad-handing the assholes who would someday support his run. Once again, Maria was about to ruin everything for him.

Even if he called 911 right now and explained the accident, the taint of a dead body—a young, attractive Latino woman whom he'd had connections with in the past—was not something he could overcome. He wasn't related to the Kennedys nor was he part of the Robinson dynasty any longer. The political supporters who'd promised to back him would skitter away from him the way roaches ran from a light bulb. He might even lose his job.

They'd do an autopsy. They'd find his semen. He cursed himself for his lack of self-control. Hadn't he learned anything? With a shaky hand he poured more Crown Royal over the ice melting in his glass.

He had to think. Clearly. Quickly. At the moment it seemed neither was possible.

He'd already made the decision he wasn't going to call 911. Hadn't he? Yes. That meant he'd have to dispose of the body on his own. Somehow. Somewhere.

He'd have to clean up the mess. He'd have to point suspicion away from himself. As a prosecutor, he knew the best way to do that. Point it at someone else.

But who?

Steven thought of all the people he'd met in Willow Bay. He'd made a few enemies in his time. Rivals in his office certainly. Political opponents. Mostly, however, he'd done his best to survive by navigating the interconnecting spheres of his working and social life. He wasn't universally loved, of course, but he was usually able to keep his mouth shut and behave himself in and out of the office.

The last person who'd really gotten his goat was that cop Lesley had been dragging to every formal affair this season. Niko Morales. Morales didn't seem to remember him, but Steven remembered Morales. The deputy had pulled him over one night about a year ago.

Spring break, and the beach bars in neighboring Fort Dunne had been crawling with college kids getting drunk. Every year since his split with Lesley, Steven had found easy pickings there. He'd single out a girl, separate her from the herd and buy her a few drinks, and before long she'd agree to go home with him.

He'd been on his way to a cheap motel with a cute but pudgy blond when Morales had pulled him over. Steven hadn't panicked. He wasn't drunk, although the girl was well past the legal limit. She thought everything was hilarious and hadn't stopped giggling since they left the bar.

He hadn't been speeding either, so why a deputy had trailed behind him with his red and blues on until he'd pulled over, Steven couldn't imagine.

“Be quiet,” he'd hissed at the girl, which had only caused her to start giggling again.

He lowered his window as the deputy approached.

“Problem, Deputy?” he'd asked.

“Can I see a driver's license and registration?” the deputy asked.

“Certainly.” Steven extracted his wallet from his back pocket and reached into the center console for the registration. “What's the problem?”

“Hiya,” the girl said, leaning across Steven's lap. “Wanna join the party?” She hiccupped and then started giggling again.

The deputy used a flashlight to check the documents, taking his sweet time about it.

He flashed the light into the car at the girl. “She all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” Steven snapped. “Too much to drink is all. I'm taking her home so she can sleep it off.”

The deputy kept the flashlight on the girl until Steven said, “I'm a state's attorney, Deputy. I suggest you tell me why you pulled me over before I consider filing harassment charges.”

The deputy repositioned the beam so it was directly in Steven's face. Steven swatted it away. “Get that damn light out of my eyes.”

The deputy complied. “That girl of legal age?” he asked in a calm tone.

“Of course she is,” Steven spluttered.

“I'd like to see some ID.”

“You're overstepping your boundaries, Deputy.”

“As a state's attorney, I'm sure you wouldn't want anything untoward to happen to a minor. Bad publicity and all that. Spring break's big money for the tourism industry, isn't it?”

Steven did his best to hide his irritation. His anticipation of an easy lay was quickly turning sour. “You got ID?” he asked the girl.

Her head lolled back on the seat. “Sure do,” she said in a sleepy, slurred voice. She tossed her wristlet at him.

Steven opened it and her ID was right there. He looked at it in the dim light. She was nineteen. He extracted the Indiana driver's license and handed it to the deputy. “Happy now?”

Morales checked the license with the flashlight. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Reason I pulled you over is your driver's side taillight is out and I wanted to let you know. I'm going to write you up a warning. You have ten days to get it fixed or you'll be liable for the fine from the county.”

“Fine.” Steven seethed in silence while the deputy went back to his cruiser and wrote up the warning. Steven knew the deputy was also running his license and probably the girl's through the databases for any outstanding warrants or other red flags.

The girl was snoring softly in the seat next to him by the time Morales returned with the citation. He handed it, the IDs and the registration back to Steven. “Take care now. You have a good night.”

Steven had clamped down on the response he'd wanted to make. He stared at the signature on the citation. Niko Morales. It wasn't a name he'd planned to forget.

Perfect
, he thought now. If only he could somehow frame Morales for Maria's murder. Murder? Where had that thought come from? Steven hadn't murdered her. True, he'd wanted to be rid of her, and now he was. But he hadn't murdered her. Her death was an accident.

But that didn't mean her death couldn't be made to look like murder. Blunt force trauma to the head. Her body dumped in a place that would throw suspicion onto someone besides Steven. Someone who looked like he was on the verge of getting everything he wanted, and therefore had a lot to lose.

Someone like Niko Morales.

That damned community center that everyone was talking about. Niko Morales, a former gang member turned sheriff's deputy, had become the darling of the crème de la crème of the Willow Bay population. Not only that, he seemed to be Lesley's main squeeze.

The thought of Niko Morales stepping into his former place in the Robinson family made Steven sick. Although he couldn't quite believe Lesley would actually marry someone so far below her social rank, she could be unpredictable. He'd never expected her to adopt his bastard child either, but that's exactly what she'd done.

Yes. Niko Morales would be the ideal candidate to frame for Maria's death. All Steven had to do was figure out how to go about it. And soon.