Cruel Lies (Lies 4)

It doesn’t matter if I believe him or not. I won’t let another man risk my child’s life.

“Prove it. Tell me everything about Corbin. Tell me where my son is,” I say. My eyes connect with Maxwell’s. I plead with him to stop hiding the truth from me.

“His name is Corbin Brown. He’s two years older than Waylon. He inherited his father’s drug smuggling organization and doubled it in size. While Waylon, being the much more charming and less evil of the two, decided getting law enforcement and government in his pocket was the best way

to help the business instead of handling the day to day organization. So he ran for office. They also had a third brother. He was the youngest. He was killed in a shoot-off with a rival organization just before his eighteenth birthday. And a sister, who I don’t think involves herself in the illegal stuff.”

I bite my lip, and my heart aches for Waylon. He had two brothers. One dead. The other a criminal.

“Both men wanted a way to increase their power and money so they would never have to worry about losing one of their own again. They heard of this legend from your father, Liesel. More money than they earned in the last decade. That kind of money would give them the power to never be threatened again. So they worked together to get you under their control. Waylon courted you, while Corbin took your son. You were the key to getting everything they ever wanted. With Waylon’s murder, nothing will stand in the way of Corbin doing whatever it takes in order to get you to give him the treasure. Nothing.”

The concern in Maxwell’s eyes feels real, too real. He’s either a good actor, or he truly is concerned for my son’s life. My son, who is perfectly safe. But if my son is with Beckett, whose child does Corbin mistakenly have?

“Why are you here telling me all of this? I’ve been trying to figure out who Waylon works with for months,” I say.

“Because I made a mistake working for them, and I want to help fix that.”

Langston scoffs, like it’s not possible.

“Tell me where Corbin is keeping my son,” I say.

Maxwell’s eyes water. “I don’t know.”

“You’re a dead man,” Langston says.

“No! He’s not.” I slam my hand down on the table, getting the attention of an older couple nearby who looks at me in disgust for my inappropriate outburst. I don’t care, though. My outburst got the attention of the two men.

“I don’t trust you, Max, but I haven’t sentenced you to death yet either. What did Corbin tell you to do?”

“My assignment is to convince you to trust me, that I’m on your side, and to keep you safe. To help you get the treasure and then convince you to give it to Corbin in exchange for him keeping your child safe.” His eyes lighten with the truth.

His words may be true, but are his intentions?

“You’re only helpful to me alive if you can help me figure out where my son is. Is that something you can do?”

“Yes, that’s all I want. I don’t want an innocent child hurt. I would never knowingly work for a man who would do that.”

“Killer,” I say, rubbing Langston’s arm, trying to calm him down. But the second my fingers graze his muscular bicep, I feel the zing of electricity. This time it isn’t attraction between us—it’s rage flowing freely off his skin.

“We are going to search him, find any bugs, any electronics he could be using to send back to Corbin. Then we are going to tie him up in our suite until we get all the information we can from him. Understood?” I ask Langston.

I’m not sure he heard me, but then Langston nods his head the slightest amount in agreement. I doubt he agrees with my plan. I’m sure he wants to kill Maxwell, but we have to keep him alive. We have no leads on Corbin. And he has a child hostage. I have no doubt that Atlas is my son, but Corbin is holding an innocent child thinking he’s mine. We have to do something to save the child and stop him from discovering Atlas. Maxwell is the only lead we have.

Langston digs some cash out of his wallet and throws it on the table.

“After you,” he says to Maxwell.

Maxwell and I both stand. Maxwell keeps his eyes on Langston. I turn my head back and forth between the two men, trying to get a read on either of them. They seem to be playing a silent game between themselves I don’t understand.

Without a word, we walk out of the bar. Maxwell in front, followed by Langston, and then me trailing them both.

Maxwell walks to the elevator banks and presses the up button, while Langston and I flank his either side. If he plans to run, we’ll stop him. I still have the gun I took from Langston’s car. I have no problem shooting this man.

The doors open, and we all step into the lift. Langston presses the fifth-floor button, waits for the elevator to rise, then presses the emergency stop button. Langston turns to Maxwell with his arms crossed as he stands in front of the door.

The corner of Maxwell’s mouth lifts, and then he starts pulling out his phone, gun, wallet, and watch. He flings each on the floor at Langston’s feet.

Maxwell raises his eyebrows. “Satisfied?”