Deadly Lies (Deadly 3)

Sweat coated his shoulders. Her moans filled the air. The bed started to squeak.

Her legs wrapped around him. Her ankles dug into his ass. Her eyes were open, on him.

Seeing me.

He erupted inside of her.

Max dozed, not long, and woke to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.

Awareness came instantly. He shot up in bed. “Running away again?”

Clad in her bra and panties, Samantha glanced back at him. “I can’t stay the night.”

Can’t. Won’t. Right. Just sex.

If he wanted a woman to stay the night, he had a drawer full of numbers he could call. Maybe he would. His jaw clenched, and he gritted, “You know the way out. Just go and—”

The phone on the nightstand rang. Who the hell was calling him this late? Shit, if there was a problem at one of his sites… Swearing, Max grabbed the phone. “Ridgeway.”

Samantha backed out the door. He wasn’t going after her. Wouldn’t stop her. Maybe it was time for the madness to end. This was going nowhere; it was—

“I have something of yours….” A gruff whisper.

“What?” Max blinked and then ran a hand down his face. “Who is this?”

“If you want him back, you’ll make sure I get my payment.”

“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but this conversation is over.” Too late for this shit.

Samantha stilled in the hallway. He caught the flash of her hip, the curve of her sweet ass.

“Don’t call again, got me?” Max started to drop the phone.

“How much is your brother’s life worth?” That same damn whisper taunted.

It took a moment for understanding to sink in. Brother. His spine snapped straight. “What are you talking about?” he barked.

Laughter. Mocking. Chilling his blood. “I have your brother, and if his old man doesn’t pay, I’ll send him back to you in pieces.”

No, no, this wasn’t happening. This was bullshit. Some sick joke. “You’ve got Quinlan?”

The door squeaked. Not closing this time; opening. Samantha slipped back inside. His gaze shot to her, and Max found her watching him with wide eyes and a pale face.

“If you want Quinlan to keep the blood inside his body, you’ll do what I say.”

Hell. “Let me talk to him, now!”

“You don’t give the orders.”

That drumming in his ears—nearly drowning out the bastard’s words—was that his heart? “You don’t have him,” he said with sudden certainty. Sick freak. “You don’t even know—”

“If you hadn’t been so busy trying to screw the pretty whore on the street, you might have even seen me take him from The Core. You were right there. You could have saved him.”

His fingers nearly smashed the phone. Watching. “Put my brother on the line!”

“No.” Again that twisted laughter. “Just be a good errand boy and do what you’re told. I’ll be sending the old man a message—and you’re going to damn well make sure he pays.”

Joke, had to be a joke—

“You go to the cops, you try to mark the bills, and the ME will be piecing your brother back together for weeks. Got me? Weeks.”

Then the phone went dead.

CHAPTER Four

Max?” Samantha stepped toward him. “Max, what’s going on?”

Very carefully, he set the phone back on the cradle. “You need to leave now.” Quinlan. Shit, how had this happened?

He’d read an article in the paper about that guy, Briar. The poor bastard had been nearly sliced apart and then left outside his parents’ house. But Jesus, that had been over in Maryland. Not in D.C., not—

Max jumped from the bed and started yanking on his clothes. “Leave, Samantha.” She couldn’t be here for this. He didn’t want her anywhere near the nightmare that was about to come calling on him.

Taken.

He had to get to Frank’s place. Hold on, Quinlan. Just hold on.

Max spun around and nearly slammed into Samantha. Her hands reached up and locked around his shoulders. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Family issue. That’s all.” Max pulled away from her. He hurried into the hall and scooped up her shirt, then he tossed it back to her. “Playtime’s over.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, and he knew he was being a bastard, but he had to get away from her. Can’t let this touch her. “The next time you’re looking for a fast f**k, baby, give me a call, but—”

“Stop it!” Red stained her cheeks. “I heard you. You know I did!” She took a step toward him, a furrow between her brows. Her voice lowered as she asked, “Someone has your brother? Someone has kidnapped Quinlan?”

He just stared back at her.

“What do they want?” Whispered now. Afraid.

That same fear was in his heart, twisting and turning along with a fury that flamed too hot. “I don’t know yet.” His mouth had gone bone dry.

Samantha pulled the shirt over her head. Her soft curls tangled around her face. “They’ll call you again, right? If we stay here, they’ll call…” She hurriedly finished dressing.

He shook his head. Wasting time. “I have to get to my stepfather’s.” He swung away from her. “The ass**le on the phone said there’d be a message….” But when would it come? And just what would he want?

Money, obviously, but how much? Frank Malone was worth so damn much money. Malone’s first wife had been one of those rich, old-money types, and when she died all of her fortune had gone straight to Frank.

No matter how much the bastard wanted, Max would make sure that Frank paid. Max wasn’t going to let his brother wind up like Briar. “I think it’s the same ones,” he muttered, not looking back. “Like that guy in the paper.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” her voice came with a fast, hard snap, and he stopped in surprise.

Samantha circled him, forcing him to stare at her. “You don’t know anything about these people. This could just be a hoax, a trick, somebody who saw the story in the papers and who wants to screw with you.”

If only. “The guy on the phone—he saw us at The Core.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

“He was there, baby. He saw you, he saw me, and he took my brother while I was so distracted by you I could hardly breathe.” He stared into her deep eyes, eyes so wide and open, and for a second, a dark suspicion twisted in his soul.