Deadly Lies

by Cynthia Eden

  Sam took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. The thick carpeting in the hallway muffled her movements. She knocked on the door again. Harder now. Louder.

  She couldn’t hear any sounds from inside the apartment. “Max?” She pounded again. “I need to talk to you. Let me in.” The doorman had assured her that he was home.

  The minutes ticked by. Max was home, but not answering. Shit.

  She grabbed the door knob. Twisted it. Locked.

  “Hyde, I don’t like this.” Her heart drummed even as her fist thudded into the door. “I don’t like—”

  Glass shattered inside.

  Sam kicked at the door. Once, twice. The damn thing wasn’t opening. The wood was too thick. “Hyde, something’s wrong!” Max was in there. Too quiet. An image of Beth’s blood-soaked body flashed in front of her eyes.

  Sam kicked again, as hard as she could, and the lock shattered. The door opened with a groan, and Sam ran inside, her gun drawn.

  The first thing that she noticed was the broken balcony door. Shards of sharp glass glittered on the floor. “Max!”

  “S-Sam…”

  She saw him in the shadows. Max lay face down on the floor, and his outstretched arms were just inches from the broken glass.

  “Hyde, Hyde, get up here! Max is hurt!” She ran to Max, knowing Hyde could hear every word. She put her gun down and flipped him over. “Max, what happened?”

  But his eyes were closed and his mouth had gone slack. “Max!” Her fingers fumbled. She found his pulse. Slow. Her hands searched his body but she found no wounds. No blood. She eased back, and her foot brushed against something. A broken drinking glass. Understanding hit—drugged.

  Just like the other victims. They’d been drugged, and they hadn’t remembered…

  She caught his face in her hands. “Max, I need you to hold on, do you hear me? Just hold on. Help’s coming.” Fear had her voice shaking because she didn’t know what he’d been given. Something to knock him out, to immobilize him? Or something to kill him? “Stay with me.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. Their cry trickled through the broken door.

  Check the apartment. She knew that she had to secure the scene, but she couldn’t leave Max. Wouldn’t leave him. Sam reached for her gun and held it tight. She kept her left hand on Max—her fingers were over his chest so she could feel the slow thud of his heart.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Sam whispered, her grip on the gun never easing. “And you’re not leaving me.”

  Quinlan hurried down the street, hunching his shoulders as he sank deeper into his coat. Damn that bitch. He’d been so close… and then she’d come pounding at the door.

  He turned left and slipped into the alley.

  A police cruiser raced by. Dammit. Quinlan’s breath blew out and a small cloud appeared in the cold air.

  Somehow, Max had reached for that lamp. He’d grabbed it and sent the thing slamming into the fragile balcony door.

  Then the bitch had started screaming.

  He’d barely had time to hit the lights, plunging the apartment into darkness, before she’d gotten inside. Knocked the door down. Almost impressive.

  She’d run for his brother. The agent hadn’t even bothered to search the shadows, and Quinlan had just walked right out the front door. The door she’d left open.

  The bitch hadn’t seen him. But he’d seen her and her gun.

  Wrong time.

  He’d take care of her soon.

  Since she’d been there, he figured some of the other FBI pricks had been around, too. He’d run down the service stairs and slipped out the back exit, making sure to duck and avoid the security cameras. No cars had been within sight, and it had only taken about ten seconds to jump the rear fence, even with his injuries.

  He knew how to avoid the security at that building. He’d known that he’d have to take out big brother sooner or later, so Quinlan had made sure he could get in and out of Max’s building any time he wanted.

  Can’t fucking catch me.

  The chill night air bit into his skin. He wouldn’t be able to stay out there long, not with the cops likely to search all the nearby streets. Good thing he knew exactly where he was heading.

  • • •

  “Clear!” Luke shouted as he strode back from the guest rooms. “No one else is here, sir.”

  Hyde nodded grimly. “Did you see anyone when you entered, Kennedy?”

  “No, just… him.” Her fingers were wrapped around Max’s. He was still out. Not so much as a flicker of his eyelashes. The EMTs had him loaded on a stretcher. Kim had already bagged the glass on the bar and the shards left on the floor.

  “The guy at the desk downstairs ID’d Nathan Donnelley,” Ramirez told them as he stalked into the apartment. “Said Donnelly came in about an hour ago, and he never left.”

  “The doctor left all right. Just not through the front door.” A muscle in Hyde’s jaw flexed, then he said, “I want all the security footage from this place. I want to know when and how Donnelley and Quinlan Malone got out of this building.”

  The EMTs started to haul Max out.

  “Kennedy…” Hyde’s attention shifted to her. “Go start running the tapes. See what you can find for—”

  “No.” Her fingers tightened on Max’s. So strong, but right then, so vulnerable. Out like that, anything could happen to him. No way to fight back. “I’m going with Max.” Her voice came out, flat and certain, and she glanced up at Hyde. “I’m going with him.” Screw the case. He mattered to her.

  Silence. She felt all eyes on her. Even the EMTs’. “Move!” she shouted at them. “He needs to get to the hospital!”

  They moved.

  “Get me an APB out on Quinlan Malone and Doctor Nathan Donnelley.” Hyde’s sharp orders followed her out the door.

  Sam looked back, just for an instant, and found Hyde’s glittering stare on her. Sam inclined her head but never eased her grip on Max.

  I won’t leave you.

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  Nathan Donnelley had gone back to his motel, the shithole he’d been staying in since he left the Malone house.

  It took less than five minutes to toss his clothes into a bag. He grabbed his passport, shoved his wallet into his pants, and yanked out his phone.

  On the second ring, Quinlan answered.

  “Where’s my money?” Donnelly asked. “I need the account number.” He yanked open the motel room door. Juggling his bag and the phone, he hurried out. “Don’t screw with me,” he snapped when nothing but static crackled over the line. “I need—”

  “I know what you need.”

  The voice hadn’t come from the phone. Oh, fuck, no, it had—

  Quinlan stood in front of him. A white-hot pain drove into Nathan’s chest. Quinlan smiled and shoved the knife deeper.

  Quinlan’s left hand clamped around Nathan’s shoulder, and he pushed Donnelley back into the motel room. Donnelley’s phone dropped and thudded onto the floor.

  The knife left his chest with a long, slow slosh. Donnelley’s breath wheezed out as the suitcase slipped from his fingers.

  Quinlan smirked. “Missed your heart, didn’t I?” He kicked the door closed. “Better try again.” Then he lunged forward.

  Donnelley opened his mouth to scream, but Quinlan’s hand slapped over his lips and his knife thrust deep again.

  “Did I miss this time, doc?”

  When Max opened his eyes the next morning, he didn’t know where he was.

  White. The ceiling above him was white. The walls were white. The blinds—white. His arms jerked and something burned along his right hand.

  His gaze flew over and found an IV. What the hell?

  “It’s okay,” Samantha’s voice. Samantha’s hand touching his. His eyes met hers.

  “Why the hell…” His voice rasped, “am I in a hospital?” He’d tried to remember, but everything seemed so foggy. He’d been at his place. He’d been pacing, waiting, and then—

&nbs
p; Nothing.

  Her eyes searched his. “You don’t remember?”

  “No, I don’t.” He turned his hand, caught her fingers with his, and held on tight. “Baby, tell me what’s going on.” The words came slow and rumbled out of his dry throat.

  Instead of speaking, she leaned forward and kissed him. Samantha pressed her sweet mouth over his and dipped her tongue past his lips.

  He might have been in a hospital bed, but his body sure seemed to be in good shape. One part was very excited. His arms wrapped around her. Max ignored the burn of the IV. One kiss, one taste, and the hunger flared bright.

  Fuck the hospital, it was a bed, they could—

  Her mouth pulled away from his. A growl built in his throat. “Not fair to start what you aren’t finishing.”

  That stopped her. Samantha blinked at him. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him, and he realized that she had on glasses. Small, sexy glasses that made her eyes look even darker.

  “Don’t worry, I plan to finish.” Her palm slid down his cheek, and her fingers scraped over the stubble. “Once you’re out of here, you’re mine, Ridgeway.”

  Promises. He yanked the IV out of his arm.

  “Max! You can’t—”

  “I feel fine.” He swung his legs over the bed.

  “Trust me, you weren’t fine a few hours ago. You were dead to the world. You couldn’t talk. You didn’t know me—” She broke off and drew in a deep shuddering breath. “For a time there, you were gone, Max.”

  Max saw the dark smudges under her eyes and finally noticed her rumpled clothes. “You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”

  “All night.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you.”

  “Samantha…” He stood, and she tilted her head back to stare up at him.

  “When I found you,” she stopped, swallowed, “you weren’t moving. You were in your apartment, everything was dark, and, oh, damn, I was afraid I was too late.”

  His fingers curled under her chin, and he bent down to kiss her. A deep, open-mouthed kiss. A kiss to tell her that, hell, yeah, he was alive; she wasn’t too late. They weren’t too late. The need had his body tightening. A dull ache thudded behind his temples but he ignored it. Nothing would have made him release her then.

  Nothing.

  He drew her closer against him. Not like he could hide the arousal he felt in that paper-thin hospital gown, and not like he wanted to try either. When she was near, he wanted.

  His hands settled against her hips, and his fingers touched the soft swell of her ass. He loved her ass. Loved touching her. Being with her.

  She stayed with me all night.

  When was the last time anyone had done that for him? When was the last time anyone had cared?

  “Max…” She turned her head away. He pressed a kiss to her throat and heard the sigh of her breath. “Max, Nathan Donnelley is missing.”

  “Donnelley?” His hold on her tightened as he struggled to remember. “I… called him. Wanted him to come and see about Quinlan.” Because his brother hadn’t wanted to get checked out at the hospital. Quinlan’s wounds had started to bleed again, and he’d been worried, and—

  Nothing.

  “The doorman remembers Donnelley coming up to your place, and video footage showed him sneaking out.” Her voice seemed strained. “He took the stairs out, used the service exit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it looks like he drugged you.” Her brown eyes glinted with a steady fury. “His fingerprints were on the glasses in the den, and one of those glasses had trace amounts of Rohypnol in it.”

  His brows shot together. “Roofies? The bastard gave me roofies?”

  “Only your prints and his were on the glass. We matched Donnelley’s because he was in the system from his time in the military.”

  Samantha handed him a bag, one with fresh clothes inside. His clothes. Another agent must have brought them from his place.

  “The SSD believes all of the victims were slipped drugs, possibly roofies, by their abductors.”

  He dressed quickly as he tugged on the jeans and shirt. “You’re saying,” he spun back to face her after he shoved on his socks and shoes, “what? That Donnelley was involved in the kidnappings? In Quinlan’s kidnapping?”

  Her gaze never faltered. “You tell me. The man drugged you, he’s missing, and yesterday, he emptied out his bank accounts.”

  That bastard had been with his family for years. “He-he treated my mom. He-he found her… She’d taken too many pills…” Donnelley had been grief-stricken. Tears had coursed down the guy’s face. Tears. And now the guy was screwing them all?

  “Quinlan’s missing, too.”

  That froze him.

  “Hyde personally checked the videos. There was no sign of him leaving your building.”

  “He didn’t just vanish!”

  “No.” Her shoulders squared. “But I saw the position of those cameras, and if you wanted to get away without being seen, you’d just have to carefully time your movements.”

  His breath rushed out.

  “You said you called Donnelley to come and take care of Quinlan. Did the two of them talk alone?” she asked.

  The throbbing in his temples got worse.

  “Did they, Max?”

  “I can’t remember.” Oh, but he wanted to remember.

  “I was coming to your place, and the reason I was there…” Her hands balled into fists. “Beth Dunlap didn’t commit suicide. The ME said that both of her wrists were cut so deeply that the tendons were severed. She would’ve had no control over her fingers. That means she wouldn’t have been able to hold the knife, much less manage to slice her other wrist open.”

  Someone else had slashed her.

  “The room was staged to make it look like she’d gone crazy, wrecked the place, and then killed herself. But the wounds don’t match with that scenario, and the techs found drops of her blood in the hallway.”

  No. He knew where this was going.

  “The splatter angle indicates she was standing up, maybe trying to flee.”

  And someone had dragged her back into that room and killed her.

  “Your brother was at the scene when we arrived.”

  His eyes closed for a moment.

  “Max, your stepbrother told us that he’d just arrived back at the house, but two men from the bomb squad swear that when they checked out his car…”

  Max opened his eyes and stared at her.

  “His hood wasn’t warm. If he’d just arrived, it would still have been hot.”

  Dammit.

  “When Frank died,” she continued, “Quinlan stood to gain a fortune.”

  Max shook his head. No, no, there had to be another explanation. All those other men, the wounds on Quinlan’s body… “He was cut, slashed all over. His hand—”

  “Sometimes, you’ll do anything if the end reward is important enough.” She gazed into his eyes, and a soft sigh escaped her. “There’s something else you should know. We found unidentified blood in the alley where Veronica James was killed.”

  “And you think it’s Quinlan’s.”

  The faintest of nods. “Your brother refused to give us a DNA sample when he was in the FBI office.”

  Quinlan’s words seemed to echo in his head. What’s it like to kill a man? It was sure starting to look like little brother already knew.

  “We have an APB out for him now, and for Donnelley. Until we find them,” she exhaled, “you’re under 24–7 FBI protection. You and the surviving victim, Curtis Weatherly.”

  “You really think they’re going to come after me?” They—who were they? Some nameless assholes? Or his brother and Donnelley?

  “I think we got lucky at your place. And I think we need to be ready for anything.”

  Guess “anything” included his stepbrother trying to kill him.

  • • •

  “Thanks for working with us on this one Lake,” Hyde said, staring at the age
nt who’d left his job at the SSD just weeks before. Even before Kenton had turned in his request for a transfer, Hyde had known what the man planned. Kenton’s heart hadn’t been with the SSD any longer.

  Special Agent Kenton Lake inclined his head toward Hyde. “Don’t think I had a real choice.”

  Hyde let a brief lift curve his lips. “You didn’t.”

  “Figured as much.” Kenton paused. “What else do you need?” Kenton had already talked to the press more than a few times over the last couple of days.

  “We’ve got a press conference scheduled in two hours. I need you to satisfy the reporters and keep them out of my way.”

  Kenton nodded. Hyde knew he had been thoroughly reviewing the case files. “You got a suspect?” Kenton asked.

  “Two.” He tossed him the files.

  Kenton whistled when he saw the names. “You want me to say this on the air?”

  “I want you to let the bastards know we’re coming. Label them as people of interest, not suspects.” Hyde knew how to play the game. He’d been doing it for years.

  “People that should be approached with extreme caution, right?” Kenton asked.

  Hyde nodded. “And we could use another man in the field on this one. Sam… she’s protecting a witness.” He saw the surprise on Kenton’s face.

  Kenton closed the files. “Then she’s back to full duty?”

  Hyde remembered the fierce glint that he’d seen in Sam’s eyes last night. He wouldn’t have been able to drag her away from Ridgeway. Finally, that spine of steel. He’d been waiting for it to show. “She’s back.” And stronger than he’d ever seen her before.

  “Talk to Monica. Get her to brief you on the profile she’s worked up on the two suspects,” he told Kenton, because they were suspects. Not damn “persons of interest.” Sometimes covering your ass could be such a pain.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hyde hesitated. “And I hear… congratulations are in order.”

  A wide smile split Kenton’s face. “They are.”

  “You work fast.” The guy hadn’t been married long, but… “You’ll be a good father.”

  “Sir, I’m scared as all hell.”

  That brought a laugh from Hyde. “You should be.”