Love is Murder Read Free Page A

unforgettable silver buckle.
    Trust no one.
    Especially damsels in distress and leather. There were no coincidences in this business; his experience as a Bullet Catcher taught him that. She identified him this morning, got a good look at him and no doubt had the Boisvert informant tell her what train he’d be on.
    Of course, he could simply turn and take another before she even saw him.
    But that’s not what Lucy Sharpe demanded from her men. She wanted to impress the new client? All right, then. He’d deliver the diamonds and the thief. On time .
    He cleared his throat. “May I join you?”
    “I was hoping you would . ” A sultry and feminine American voice answered.
    He came around the seat back, his gun drawn, but not yet aimed at her. Let her know he had it and wasn’t afraid to use it. “Although I’d prefer not to have to kill anyone who’s chasing you on the way to Paris.”
    “On the contrary.” She lifted amber eyes and met his gaze, not even a flicker of surprise. “You’ve done your good deed for the day.”
    “So this is no coincidence?” Not that he thought it was for a moment.
    Her lips widened in a sexy smile. “I was on the platform and saw you get on board. I decided you were the type of man who would choose the back compartment for…privacy.”
    “So you’re just riding the rails for fun today.”
    She shrugged. “I did have to take an unexpected trip to Rotterdam, thanks to you giving me that chance to escape, but I easily made it back here on a return train. Going to Paris?”
    “I am.”
    “Then we’ll travel together.” Her smile was warm. No, hot . And inviting. “That guy is gone now, so you can put the gun away.”
    Not a chance. “I prefer to err on the side of caution.” He took the seat across from her—the one he would have taken anyway, because it allowed for a direct view through the doors and into the next car—and kept the pistol in his hand, resting on the seat next to him.
    “I’m Claudia Greenwood,” she said.
    “Donovan Rush.” No reason to lie. Obviously, she either knew exactly who he was—in which case he’d either kill her or deliver her to the authorities at the Gare du Nord in Paris—or she really was just a beautiful American on holiday or business in Belgium. Not too hard to guess which. “And who was your pushy friend in the station?”
    She exhaled a breath of disgust. “A bad choice from my past.”
    Yeah, right. “A woman who looks like you involved with a guy who looks like that? C’mon, I might be big and ugly, but I’m not dumb.”
    “You’re quite big—” she let her gaze slide over his shoulders and chest “—but you are definitely not ugly. Sadly, I wouldn’t be the last woman who got swayed by an impressive…bank account. What brings you to Belgium, Donovan?”
    As if she didn’t know. “Business.”
    “Business that requires you to carry a gun?”
    “It is Antwerp,” he said, as though that explained it. That would explain it to a diamond thief, which, he’d bet the entire pouchful in his pocket, she was. “And you?”
    “Business, as well.” Her fingers flicked the end of her scarf. “Fashion accessories. I’m headed to Paris for a trade show.”
    “Then we have a whole hour and a half to get to know each other.” And to see just how long it would take for her to make her move.
    She settled back into her seat with an alluring smile. “I can’t imagine a better way to spend my time.”
    * * *
    He had to give the woman a lot of credit. She never dropped character, chatting about clothes and fashion shows, her apartment in New York, her small business. All the while, the train careened through the autumn-washed fields of the Dutch countryside, bridges and farms a blur in Donovan’s peripheral vision. No one entered the compartment but a conductor checking tickets after they’d stopped in Brussels, and neither of them made a move to hit the restroom or get a drink for a full hour.
    But thirty minutes