Deadly Lies (Deadly 3)

Too damn big of a coincidence. “She’s part of the ring?”

“We think she was the bait.” Monica curled her hands around her files. “We wondered how the men were lured out—we know roofies were used. The two men who were ransomed couldn’t remember anything about even being in the bars.”

“Memory loss is common after Rohypnol ingestion,” Dante explained. “But because of the drug, the guys couldn’t tell us who led them out.”

“Now we have a suspect, one we’re looking for and one we will find.” Ah, finally some heat in Monica’s voice.

“Yes, we will,” agreed Samantha. “Max and I are going to hit the bars tonight. You promised him that he’d be part of the investigation, and he will be.”

Well, damn.

“No more sitting on our asses. We’re in this thing.” Samantha gave the agents a curt nod. “If you need us, you can text me, but we’re not waiting anymore.” She grabbed Max’s arm and headed for the door.

“The waiting’s hard, isn’t it, Sam?” Monica questioned quietly. “It reminds you too much.”

Samantha flinched. “I don’t need reminding. Forgetting—that never happened. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t forget.”

And what the hell was she talking about?

“Let’s get out of here,” Samantha muttered. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe here.”

Max knew the feeling. He pulled open the door.

“Wait!” Monica called out. “Sam… do you—do you trust him?”

Ah, shit, there it was. His past. Sure they had all the gory details in their nice, neat files, and they just needed to throw it in his face one more time.

“Doesn’t matter,” Samantha said. “I’m with him either way.”

Not the answer that he’d wanted, but one he’d take. He stepped forward and nearly slammed into another agent. A woman. Small, delicate, with fierce green eyes.

“Come on, Max,” Samantha said, grabbing his arm. “We don’t have time to waste.”

No, they sure as hell didn’t.

• • •

Monica took a shaky breath as she watched Sam and Ridgeway hurry away.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe here.

She’d caught Sam’s words, and she’d understood. Once upon a time, Monica had felt like the world was closing in on her, too, and it had been a struggle to push back the fear.

But she’d pushed and she’d pushed and she’d walled herself off from everyone else until…

“You okay, baby?” Luke’s voice whispered from right behind her. She felt his fingers skim down her arm.

Monica turned her head, just a bit. They were in the hallway, and too many eyes were on them.

But screw the other agents. All that they would see was two agents discussing an active case. So if she wanted to spend a moment with the man she loved, then she would. “I was worried about you.” Her confession was stark.

Luke blinked, and his expression softened.

She held up her hand, stopping him before he could speak. “Since you’ve moved in with me, things are—” More intense. Deeper. “Good,” she said instead, because it was the truth. “Better than good.” She was the happiest that she could ever remember being.

He caught her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “For me, too.”

“I’m afraid.” Her admission was hushed.

He shifted closer to her. “Of what?”

With him, she could always be honest. “Good things don’t always last long for me. My life isn’t about picket fences and happy endings. It’s not—”

“It can be,” he said, voice firm, as he cut across her words. “Your life, our life, can be anything we want.” His gaze burned with intensity. “I was going to wait on this but… dammit, I love you, Monica, and I don’t just want to live with you. I want to marry you.”

And she lost her breath.

“Dante!” Hyde’s voice cut through the hallway. “I need you to prep for the press conference. We’ve got to explain how the cops let Adam Warrant walk out of that bar. Dammit, we need Kenton Lake in here for this shit.”

But Luke didn’t move. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he told her softly. “You won’t lose me.”

And that was her fear. Ever since the Watchman case, she’d known that Luke was her weakness. When she thought about something happening to him, dark terror washed through her.

“Dante!”

She swallowed. “Go. We’ll talk—”

“Soon,” Luke promised, eyes glittering, then he walked away.

I want to marry you.

“Yes,” Monica whispered and knew that when the time was right, she’d tell Luke.

No more fear.

Frank Malone wasn’t used to being kept in the dark. And he sure as shit wasn’t used to being stuck in some eight-by-ten room while agents asked him the same damn questions over and over again.

Sweat beaded his brow, and he glared at the door. Five more minutes, five more, and he was getting out of there. The agents had been gone too long. They had already f**ked things up, and if he didn’t get his son back—

The phone on his hip vibrated. He hauled it up to his ear. “Look, I can’t talk now—”

“You’d better.” A soft whisper. Familiar.

Frank’s gaze flew to the mirror on the left-hand side of the wall.

“I know where you are, Frank.” Anger there, throbbing in that whisper. “And that makes me very, very pissed off.”

Frank swallowed. “Wh-wher—”

“Don’t talk, ass**le. Just listen. I don’t want them hearing what you say.”

Frank shut up.

“You gave me your money, every dime I wanted, but you screwed me over.”

Fear nearly choked him.

“Guess who’s going to pay for that?”

“Not—”

“Told you to shut up!”

His lips clamped together, and he turned away from the mirror, hunching his shoulders.

“Quinlan told me about you.” Low, grating.

Frank clenched his teeth.

“A real dick of a father, huh? Screwed around on his mom, his stepmom, and even screwed his girlfriend.”

Frank swiped a hand over his forehead.

“He thinks you’re gonna let him die.”

No, no, Quinlan was the only thing that he had in this world. His blood.