Deadly Lies (15 page)

His hands clenched into fists.

“She’s been clean for years, but it was a long, hard fight. My dad didn’t stay around for it. She lost most of her friends…
I guess she wasn’t as fun to them anymore.”

The day I fell into the lake…

“You can’t control other people,” she said after a moment. “You can’t make them do the things you want, even if it’s for their
own good.”

She’d been brutally honest with him. He could give her the same benefit.
Guess I am going back to hell tonight, for her.
“My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago. She went through the rounds of surgery and chemo, but nothing worked.”

He’d watched her wither away right in front of him. Every day, she’d just grown paler, weaker. “Quinlan… his own mother abandoned
him and I don’t think he could handle watching someone else disappear before his eyes.”
I sure couldn’t take it.

Quinlan had always been in his mother’s room. Watching her and talking to her as she slipped away.

“At first, no one even noticed what Quinlan was doing.” They’d all been so busy mourning his mother that it had taken them
a while to see the shape Quinlan was in. “I think the drugs must have numbed the pain for him, at first anyway. Then…” Then
Quinlan had just gotten to where he liked the rush.

Their gazes held.

“I’m not giving up on him. I won’t.” But he knew that she was right. He could send his brother to every program,
but if Quinlan just planned to start using the minute he walked out… Max ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to push
away that knot. “I’ll get him home, and I’ll do anything I can to help him get clean.” What else was there to do?

“It’s all
you
,” she whispered. “What
you’ll
do for him. What about Frank? What’s he doing?”

Frank seemed shaken now, like his world had spiraled away from him—and it had. Maybe he’d step up now and finally
see
his son.

Her head tilted. “How would you say Quinlan feels about his father?”

“He hates the old man.” And that’s what Quinlan always called him. “Frank is screwing his lover, so how do you think he feels?”

“I’d say there is animosity there.”

Yeah, too damn tame a word. But then Max understood. He advanced on her. “No, hell,
no.
Don’t even think it.” His back teeth clenched. “My brother is the victim here.” Had the woman been playing him just then?
Trying to make him feel close to her, trying to get him to let down his guard?

One of her shoulders lifted in what was probably supposed to be a careless shrug. “I never said he wasn’t.” Her stare didn’t
waver.

But for a minute, when he’d first gotten the call,
he’d
doubted. He wondered. Quinlan had wanted that money so badly and then just disappeared…

The doubt hadn’t lasted long, though, not with that prick on the line promising to hurt Quinlan. Then that damn package had
arrived.

His brother
was
the victim. “Get to sleep,” he ordered,
tired of the doubt and the worry. “It’s late, and we’re both going to be sharing the bed.”

Her eyes widened as she glanced at the bed.

“Part of our cover, remember?” Screw the cover. The grim truth was that he still wanted her. And the sick truth was that she
didn’t want him touching her.

You could run from your past. You could spend a dozen years trying to change, but there would always be people who looked
at you and saw the blood and guts of who you were.

A killer
. When Samantha looked at him, he knew what she saw.

She exhaled on a breathy little sigh. “I’m not here right now because I need a cover, Max.” Her hair looked soft and silky,
and her lips, bare of color, were plump and just inches away. “I’m here because I want to be. I told you about my past because
I wanted you to know
me
.”

What?

“You scare me,” she admitted.

Just great.
You scare me, too, baby.

“And I—I’m sorry about what happened to your mother. The cancer… and before. With her attack.”

She might as well have hit him again. He tried to hold on to his anger, but with her, it kept sliding away. “Got the story
verified, did you?” She must have called her agents when she was alone. He didn’t buy that she’d taken him at his word.

“Max…”

He brushed past her. “I’m going to bed. Do whatever the hell you want.” He ditched his pants. No boxers. Like she hadn’t already
seen him naked. “Stay up all night.” He probably would. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw
that severed finger and wondered where his brother was. “But don’t worry about me. I’m not going to jump you.”

If only. Frank had the right of it. Hard, driving sex was the way to shove the demons away.

The way to hold onto sanity until dawn came.

Hold on, Quinlan. Just hold on.

Max climbed into the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to shut her out. But he could hear her. Every soft move. Every rustle.

The bed dipped when Samantha eased in beside him. He caught her scent, light, flowery, and wanted more.

No.
You couldn’t always have what you wanted. He knew that better than others.

Silence.

In bed with him. Close. If he reached out, he could touch her.

He wouldn’t reach out. But, dammit, he had to ask. “Is he alive?” His eyes opened to darkness. “You know these bastards. Do
you think he’s alive somewhere, hurting and scared, or have they already cut him up?” His eyes struggled to adjust to the
dark as he waited for her answer. Not a bullshit response,
the truth.

Her fingers brushed his arm. Heat shot through him. “He’s alive.”

Max could almost believe her. Almost.

Her hand slipped over his chest, stopping just over his heart, and he knew that she had to feel the desperate drumming. “Wouldn’t
do that,” he warned. This was the only warning he’d give. “Not unless you want me to finish what you’re starting.”

Between them, there could be no innocent touches now. No comfort in the darkness. In the middle of hell,
he still wanted her. Fuck,
had
wanted her, every moment, even when rage bubbled in his chest.

His cock was hard, ready, because she was near. The temptation to reach out to her was strong because he knew she would make
him forget, for just a few moments, the nightmare he was living.

“I’m afraid of the way you make me feel.” Her words came again. In the dark, his Samantha was being honest. A surprise. But,
no, maybe she’d always been honest in the dark. Honest when their bodies touched and the need exploded.

The real her?

“I know I shouldn’t,” she said, her voice husky and seeming to stroke right over his cock, “but I still want you.” Samantha
rose a bit, turning on her side, and her breath blew over his cheek.

And he wanted her. If she didn’t pull back…

No more warnings.

“It’s wrong,” she told him softly, her voice sin in the dark. “The case, us. But… but I need to be with you one more time.”

He grabbed her and pulled her toward him. Her skin slid against his, and he wanted more. He’d have more.

“You don’t trust me,” she whispered, and her lips were less than an inch away.

And you don’t trust me.
But he didn’t say that. No need. They both knew it.

“You don’t—”

Max kissed her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulled her head down, and pressed his lips to hers. She moaned into his
mouth and arched toward him. Still wearing that damn dress when he wanted to feel her bare skin.

His hands snaked down her body. No preliminaries. No caresses. This was sex. Wild. Raw. Pleasure and climax, that’s what he’d
take.

She straddled him, placing one soft thigh on either side of his legs. The dress pooled around them. He caught the fabric and
shoved it up to her hips. One tug and he ripped her panties away.

Her mouth broke from his as she gasped.

Condom.
Christ, he needed the—

Hot, creamy flesh brushed against his cock. Ready for him, just as he was ready for her. No, he was damn near exploding for
her. His hand shot out and fumbled with the night stand. He hit the lamp switch, and light spilled onto the bed. He’d stashed
his wallet in the nightstand drawer earlier. One condom left.
One.

She leaned over him and opened the drawer. “Got it.” So soft. Her fingers tore open the wrapper. She took out the condom.
She touched him, and he shuddered. No, no, too close. When her hands were on him…

He rolled, pushing her back against the bed, leaving her legs spread, and the dress bunched at her waist.
Just sex.

That was all it had ever been.

The condom covered him.
Wanted flesh to flesh. Wanted that hot core, squeezing around me, nothing separating us.

His erection pushed against the entrance of her sex. She reached out to touch him again, but he caught her hands and pushed
them back against the mattress.

Just sex.

Her gaze seemed to burn right through him.

Fuck,
lost.
One look and he was… Max kissed her. The kiss should have been hard and angry, but it was more.
Desperate. Like he was starving for her, and maybe he was. Starving, addicted, so hungry for
her.

His cock thrust deep. She made that moan in the back of her throat, the moan that made him crazy, and he thrust faster, stronger,
and he kissed his way down her neck. Soft skin. So soft. He bit her flesh even as he thrust balls-deep.

She bucked beneath him, then whispered, “Harder.”

His cock stretched even more, and he gave the woman what she wanted.

Her hands were free. She’d pulled them from his grasp, and now her fingers were on him. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

He wanted her breasts. Wanted her nipples in his mouth.

She pushed against him, angled up, then swiped that small pink tongue over his nipple.

He groaned. And she laughed.
Laughed.
Her head tilted back, and she stared up at him. No fear in her gaze, just blind need.

A killer.
She knew what he was, but she gazed at him and seemed to see just a man.

Faster, deeper. The bed squeaked beneath them, and he didn’t give a shit who heard. The climax bore down on him, but he didn’t
want the pleasure yet. He didn’t want to stop. Her delicate inner muscles squeezed so tight.
Too good. Don’t end.

His thumb pressed over her clit. She had to enjoy it. Had to need the sex as much as he did. More. He caressed her and felt
her sex tighten even more around him as he drove into her.

She came, and he saw the pleasure wash over her face and darken her eyes.

Just sex. Just—

“Samantha!” He fought the release. Longer.
More
. Her sex contracted around him in a sweet ripple that had his body tightening. So close. He could feel her pleasure. Feel
her. Inside, out. Everywhere,
her.

He exploded inside her, the release a red-hot firestorm of pleasure that heated his blood and burned its way through his body.

Dammit, more.
More.

So much more than he’d bargained for.

“
Some people can’t follow simple fucking instructions.
” He stared down at the bound man, and rage pumped through him. “I mean, really, how hard is it to understand?”

The guy jerked at his ropes and grunted something behind the duct tape.

“Guess you’re gonna get a real piss-poor deal on this one.” He gave a long sigh and let his fingers tighten around the hilt
of the knife he held. “And just so you know… it’s gonna hurt.”

Moving fast, he ripped off the blindfold. Wide, desperate eyes stared back at him, and the guy shook his head, fast, over
and over.

But he just shrugged as he stared down at the helpless bastard. “Blame the family, man. They’re the ones who are doing this
to you. They are the ones who turned their backs on you.”

More muffled grunts came from behind the gray line of duct tape. He raised the knife and stepped closer to his prey. He caught
a flicker of movement behind him and knew that she’d come to watch. Just like before.

He liked it when she watched him work.

The blade traced down the guy’s face. A slow, careful trek. That bastard Briar had pissed him off, but this one? He almost…
liked him.

But he’d still slice the prick apart. “They should have just paid.” He shrugged.
Not my fault.
“I showed everyone what happens when you don’t pay.”
They knew the rules.

He’d left his message for the world to see. But still, they tried to screw him. Thought that they could outmaneuver him.

A last sigh slipped from his lips. “You
should
have been worth more.”

Sam didn’t wake screaming that night, but only because she didn’t sleep. She lay in bed next to Max, her heart still thudding
too fast, his arm across her stomach, and she wondered what she was doing.

Not really a new question.

She should move. Get up. Not feel so comfortable in bed with him. Not feel like his body fit against hers.

The darkness surrounded them. She didn’t have to worry about her emotions flashing on her face. Sometimes it was so hard to
hide what she felt. How many times had her mother told her, “
I know what you’re thinking, Samantha Jane! I can see it… right there on your face.
” Acting had never been her gift, but she was trying, as hard as she could.

Her fingers caressed his shoulder. He’d rolled onto his stomach, and his face was positioned toward her. She could hear his
breathing, deep, even, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping.

Together, but so far apart.

A soft chime pealed in the room, and she tensed.
Oh, no, not now, please.

But Max was already moving. He rolled away from her in a flash and stalked, naked, to pick up her phone. The dim light from
her screen lit his face as he read the message.

Not Quinlan. Don’t say they’ve found a body.
Max’s head lifted but shadows hid most of his face. “New development,” he said, voice rumbling. “ ‘
Problem.
Stay on guard.’ ”