Lethal Lies

by Rebecca Zanetti

Zara glanced at the empty living room and then back at Anya. “You have to show him it’s okay to lose control and be himself with you. That he won’t break you.”

  Anya’s mouth gaped. She quickly shut it. “That totally makes sense. How would I do that?”

  Zara bit her lip. “Heck if I know.”

  Wonderful. Just wonderful. Anya cleared her throat, not wanting to push too hard. But she had to ask. “Is Heath in danger? I mean, I can tell he’s running from something or somebody. Is he in danger?”

  Zara studied her for a moment, her gaze intelligent and knowing. “Yeah. Danger is coming from several directions. Soon.”

  CHAPTER

  23

  Zara had been kind enough to cook a late breakfast for the brothers after they finished shopping, and now she’d disappeared into her bedroom. His belly pleasantly full, Heath glanced over at Ryker, seated with him at the small kitchen island. When was his brother going to pop the question? By the strained look on his face, he was trying to figure out a good time.

  The room felt empty without Anya. She’d gone into their apartment to shower pretty much the second Heath had arrived.

  Sweat dotted Ryker’s forehead.

  “Are you all right?” Heath asked, leaning back on his stool.

  “Yeah.” Ryker used his sleeve to wipe his head. “I’m fine.” His hand shook.

  Denver’s eyebrows rose as he stood near the sink on the other side of the island. “Dude.”

  “I’m fine,” Ryker snapped. He shook out his shirt. “Is it hot in here? It feels really hot in here.”

  Heath coughed away a laugh when Denver turned around, his shoulders shaking.

  “You’re dicks,” Ryker said without any rancor.

  Denver turned back around, his face in calm lines. “I don’t know what you mean.” His voice had risen a little on the last words.

  Amusement bubbled up again, and Heath burst out laughing.

  Denver joined in.

  Ryker took a deep breath and stopped shaking his shirt. “She’ll say yes again. It’s not like she’s waffling. I have no idea why I can’t breathe. She’ll say yes. Again.”

  Heath forced himself to stop chuckling. “Not necessarily. I mean, you are the ugly one.”

  Ryker glared at him.

  Denver nodded solemnly. “And the dumbest.”

  “That’s accurate,” Heath said sadly, shaking his head. “Maybe she’ll take pity on you.”

  “Plus, the ring is pretty,” Denver said, grabbing a kitchen towel off the counter. “She’ll like the ring.”

  Ryker breathed out. “You guys suck.”

  “See?” Heath asked. “What woman would want to be around such a negative attitude?”

  Denver bit his lip. “So true. I mean, that’s just true.”

  Ryker slowly turned his head. “Heath? Why don’t you stop worrying about me and go give your woman the fake ring. I mean, the real ring for the fake engagement. Let’s see how that goes.”

  Heath lost his smile.

  Denver snorted.

  Heath turned on Denver just as Ryker did.

  Denver backed away, hands up. “Hey. You’re the ring buyers.”

  Heath rolled his shoulders. “I’ve got this.” He needed to talk to Anya but had no clue what to say. “Thanks for breakfast.” He handed his plate to Denver, who’d offered to clean up. “Let’s meet in ten minutes in the war room to finalize the plan to go public later today.”

  His brothers failed to hide amused expressions—this time at him. Yeah, they all knew he was dragging his feet. He wasn’t good with the mushy talk, and Anya deserved all the gooey words.

  He steeled his shoulders and moved for the door, quickly leaving and heading back into his silent apartment. Victims and timelines were spread across the room’s northern wall. Anya had been busy.

  Making his way to the bedroom, he stopped short at hearing Anya singing quietly. What was that? “Any Man of Mine.” Interesting. He bit back a grin and moved into the room.

  She jerked in surprise and then finished making the bed. Apparently she’d already showered, and then she dressed in form-fitting jeans and a green sweater that matched her eyes. “Um, hi.”

  The woman looked good enough to lick inch by inch. His mouth watered. “You have a lovely voice.”

  She blushed a pretty pink. “Thanks.”

  The bed lay before him, big and inviting. She’d piled her rich hair atop her head, and with her freshly scrubbed face, she looked to be about eighteen. A purple mark on her neck caught his eye. “What the fuck?” He reached her in a second and grasped her chin.

  “Hey.” Her eyes widened.

  He slowly tilted her head to see the round bruise on her neck. Where he’d almost bitten her. “Shit.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a hickey. Apparently it’s a family thing.”

  Man, she bruised easily. He wanted to apologize, yet the sight of his mark on her filled his chest with heat. He straightened his shoulders at the primitive rush of possession that took him. He wanted to mark the other side of her neck. What was going on with him? “Did I bruise you anywhere else?”

  She pulled her face free and met his gaze. “Guess you’ll have to find that out on your own.”

  Moxie. The woman definitely had moxie. The challenge shot through him, hit all the erogenous zones, and landed in his heart. She was one of a kind.

  He grinned. “Is that an invitation?”

  Her gaze strayed to the bed and back. Then she shrugged. “Should we, ah, um, talk about last night?”

  Instinct ruled him, and he took her shoulders as gently as he could. “It was wonderful.”

  “But it doesn’t change anything,” she said quietly.

  “No.” Why did his chest hurt suddenly? “We’re working this case together, and then I’ll be moving on once we track down the killer. It isn’t safe to come with me.” Especially since his plan was to run right into danger and toward people who’d kill him if he didn’t give them what they wanted. Somebody had to die, and he hoped it wouldn’t be him. But it was entirely possible it would be.

  Her green eyes studied him. “I’m not saying I want to come with you, so don’t think that, but what about Zara? She’s on the run with you.”

  “She isn’t mine,” Heath said simply. “That’s Ryker’s decision, and I follow his lead with his woman.” Heath’s emotions were so damn jumbled that he wondered if he could make Anya his when he couldn’t guarantee even his own safety. He felt more for her than he should after knowing her such a short time. “I want to be honest with you.”

  She leaned in. “That’s fine, but you should be honest with yourself, too.”

  He drew back. Her words pricked and impressed him at the same time. Maybe it wasn’t just threats against him he worried about. Maybe it was just him. Was he afraid of the risk? Afraid of having her and losing her? Life was full of losses, and he knew that firsthand.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “For now, are you ready to go hear the plans?”

  She paled. “Yes. For a minute—a nice one—I’d forgotten all about the killer. So much for a relaxing day.”

  “Exactly. Are you sure you still want to do this?”

  Her chin snapped up. “You bet your ass.”

  Courage impressed him. He’d keep her safe, no matter what. With one last, longing look at the bed, Heath reached for her hand. “Then let’s go make a plan.” What was he thinking, letting her be part of this? As he moved through the living room, the faces of the victims taped to the wall taunted him.

  He’d failed at saving any of them so far. He led Anya from the apartment, fighting every basic urge he’d ever had. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable putting you in danger,” he murmured, pushing open the war room door.

  “I put myself there,” Anya said. Her hand felt small and way too delicate in his, even as her voice was strong. Determination darkened her emerald eyes. “And I’m not yours to worry about, remember?”

  His head jer
ked back, and his gut felt like she’d kicked him. “Yeah. I remember.”

  On the room’s walls behind its bank of computer monitors, Denver had set up whiteboards that held the pictures and timeline of the entire Copper Killer case.

  Heath whistled. The setup looked similar to the one Anya had created in their apartment. “Nice command room.”

  “Thanks,” Denver said, moving in from the room’s small kitchen. He looked at Anya. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said, releasing Heath’s hand.

  He clenched his fist, feeling empty. “Where are Ryker and Zara?”

  “Checkin’ out the decoy offices and installing the security measures. More of them, anyway,” Denver said, moving to another whiteboard with the words CURRENT OP at the top. “We did research.”

  Heath quickly read the notes. “All right. So we’re in play.”

  Denver nodded. “Yep.”

  “Play?” Anya asked, looking around.

  In the sterile room, she was all light and color. Heath fought the need to reach out and take her hand again. “That means we’ve started the op. Denver is hacking or has hacked into the state database as well as the county’s one, and we’re now a legitimate business with public records and an address. In other words, we’ve gone public.”

  “The decoy address,” Anya murmured, squinting to read the board. “We’re going to a cocktail party for new businesses hosted by the mayor tonight?” Her voice trembled on the last words.

  “Yeah, and Denver has probably already petitioned the state bar for my law license to be valid here?” Heath asked.

  Denver nodded. “Yep. Reciprocity is easy with Washington, so you’ll get it.”

  Anya started. “You’re a lawyer?”

  Heath grinned. “Sometimes. I went to law school and did pass a bar exam, but it was just for the background information for the detective agency. I don’t want to really practice law.”

  He sobered. By the time he was granted reciprocity, they’d be out of Washington State. Who would protect Anya then? Although the woman was resourceful and spunky. “We need to brush up on your self-defense skills. Keeping training fresh is important,” he mused. Yeah, that might be a weak excuse to get his hands back on her body, but he would feel better leaving her if she could kick ass if necessary.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Her phone buzzed, and she drew it from her pocket to read the screen. Her breath whooshed out. “It’s the FBI. Reese is back in town, and he said if we don’t meet with him, he’s going to put a BOLO out on both of us.”

  Shit, damn, and fuck. “I figured he’d be in touch again soon,” Heath said calmly before focusing on Denver. “Are our identities strong enough here?”

  Denver eyed the monitors. “Doubtful.”

  Anya gasped. “Why is that?”

  Heath naturally stepped in to explain Denver’s response. “Denver can keep adding to our backgrounds, but if the FBI decides to dig, they’re gonna see the problems. If they get suspicious and start to investigate us, we’ll need to leave town sooner than planned. It’s the FBI, you know?”

  “You don’t have genuine IDs?” she asked.

  “Not really. Long story,” he said.

  She shook her head, her lips thinning. “I’m sure, and I know you won’t share. For now, what do you want to do?” she asked, staring at the phone like it might bite her.

  There was only one option, really. “Call Reese and tell him we’d love to meet with him.” Heath didn’t need this complication. “Maybe we can appease him a little so he’ll worry about the killer and not us right now.” The need to run away hard and fast tensed every muscle in Heath’s body.

  Anya swallowed. “Before I call, I have to know. Are you wanted by the law? Is the real you, whoever you are, running from the law?”

  He winced and glanced at Denver, who shrugged like normal. No help there. “The FBI is not after us, and neither is any state agency,” Heath said. That was absolutely true. “We are being hunted by somebody who wants to kill us, and that person does have ties to the law enforcement community but has not to this point used those contacts. If, or rather when, he chooses to do so, we’re in trouble.”

  Denver pursed his lips. His eyebrows rose. “Nicely put.”

  “Yeah.” Heath relaxed. He’d told her the truth without putting his brothers in danger.

  The nearest computer dinged. Denver stilled and moved for it. “Wait a sec,” he said as Anya reached for a phone.

  Heath tensed. “What?”

  Denver sat on a rolling chair and started typing rapidly. “Anya just got an e-mail on her university account.”

  Anya stiffened. “You hacked my account?”

  “Yeah,” Denver said absently, hunching over the keyboard. He sat back. “Oh.”

  Heath moved to stand next to him and leaned down to see a series of pictures of Anya flash across the screen from different locations and during different seasons. Her hairstyle was different in some of them. The pictures probably spanned a couple of years of her life. His shoulders went back. “Anya?”

  She stepped closer to him. “That’s from last June,” she whispered, pointing to a picture of her laughing with a group of people at a café. All the color drained from her face and neck. “That one is from last Christmas—a year ago.” Her voice trembled.

  Heath looked at the Christmas picture. She was walking down an icy sidewalk with colorfully wrapped packages in her hands and snow on her pretty hair. Her eyes were bright, and her face was relaxed. She’d obviously had no clue somebody was watching her or taking her picture. How vulnerable she’d truly been.

  Heath put an arm around her. Fury rippled through him, tensing every muscle. The killer had stalked her for a very long time. He could’ve taken her right there and then. He only hadn’t because he wanted to play the game longer. Heath bit back a snarl.

  Then pictures of the Copper Killer’s victims flashed in between pictures of Anya.

  She gave a small sound of distress.

  Heath tugged her closer, his breath heating. “You don’t have to look at these.” He tried to turn her away.

  She held fast, her body shaking.

  The slideshow abruptly stopped. The screen went white, and black letters slowly faded in.

  SEE WHAT I’VE DONE FOR YOU? IT’S TIME FOR US.

  Then a picture of Anya at the diner from the night before flashed hot and bright, burning at the edges.

  “Oh God,” she whispered. “He’s here.”

  CHAPTER

  24

  Anya tugged her seat belt more comfortably over her chest as Heath drove through the billowing snow on black-ice roads. “We’re not going to argue about this.”

  His hands were steady on the steering wheel, and he handled Ryker’s truck as if he’d done so his entire life. “You’re right. No arguing.”

  She watched him from the corner of her eye. His rugged face remained stoic, his gaze concentrated, his body on full alert. He hadn’t said much after seeing the pictures from the e-mail beyond calling and letting the FBI know they were on their way in. “I need to know what you’re thinking. You’re too hard to read.”

  He didn’t so much as twitch. “I’m thinking about how to get you out of town and to safety without pissing off the FBI or alerting a serial killer.” His voice was even. Too even.

  A shiver tickled down her spine, and she hugged her arms to her body. “The pictures scared me, too.” The rock in her stomach wouldn’t stop aching. “To know he’s been watching me for a couple of years. Maybe longer.” One of the pictures had been from four years ago at a Halloween party. She couldn’t remember who’d taken it, and there was a chance the killer had just found it on the Internet. Or not. Had he been there?

  Heath finally glanced her way. “You’re safe, Anya. We’ll get you out of town.” His tone remained low and calm, while his eyes glittered a heated fury.

  “No.” She faced him fully and swallowed over a lump in her throat. Chills swept alon
g her arms. “This is what we wanted, right?”

  “No.” He continued to concentrate on the road, his tone firm.

  “Yes,” she countered, her hands too cold. “We’re here to draw him out.”

  Only a slight tightening of Heath’s jaw showed any reaction. “Well, he’s here. So no need.”

  “That’s not it,” she burst out. “Don’t you get it? He knows that we know he’s here. That’s part of the game.” Her throat hurt.

  “This isn’t a game,” Heath snarled.

  “I know.” She breathed out, trying to focus. Trying to think and plan when all she wanted to do was hide. “But this is a game to him—one that just got even more interesting because we’re here in Snowville. He thinks he’s smarter than we are, and the more we goad him, the more we act like we’re not frightened, the sooner he’ll make a move. The sooner he’ll make a mistake.”

  Heath took a left turn toward town. A vein pulsed down his strong neck. “Gee, Doc. That sounds textbook.”

  Anya reared back. “Sarcasm isn’t necessary.”

  Heath’s broad chest shuddered. “Sorry.”

  Anya’s temples started to ache, and she rubbed the right one. “Listen. I don’t want to face a serial killer. I really don’t.”

  “Good.” He was back to an even tone.

  She shivered from the anger just under the surface of that tone. “But he’ll just keep killing. He won’t stop, and now he’s making a move against me. Let’s let him come while we control the situation.” Her vision blurred. She had to find Loretta’s killer and make him pay.

  Heath turned down another road, this one busier than the rest. He glanced her way, one eyebrow rising. “You okay?”

  “A migraine may hit. Could go either way.” She pinched the pressure point between her thumb and forefinger. She sighed and looked back at him. “I’m right about this.”

  “Probably.” Heath eyed the gray sky outside. “You challenged him on television, and he has responded by following us here and sending you those pictures.” His knuckles turned white on the wheel.

  “Exactly.” Anya rolled her neck, trying to ease the pressure. “So we make a move, and he’ll have to respond.” She swallowed and tried to sound brave. “He’s a psychopath with a good side of narcissism. He won’t be able to help himself.”