Deadly Lies (Deadly 3)

Beth blinked, his words slowly sinking in, too slowly. “Wh-what?”

In a flash, he spun her around, and his right arm looped over her body. Her back pressed against his chest. “You’re such a dumb bitch,” he whispered. “Did you really think I was going to stay with you? Did you think if the money was all mine today, I’d keep you?” His breath blew against her hair.

Real fear began to settle in Beth’s stomach. “Quinlan, llet me go.”

The bandaged hand, the hand that she tried not to look at, had her wrist in a too-tight grip.

“You’ve f**ked things up,” he said again. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

OhGodOhGod…

“I guess this…” He took the shard of glass and he slit open her left wrist.

“No!” The scream ripped from her as blood spattered onto the carpet. She shoved back against him, slamming her head into his. “No! Let me go!”

His hold eased. Her wrist and arm throbbed and burned. Quinlan? He’d been the one to bring her into the house. He’d set everything up so that she fit into his world.

He’d even been the one to tell her to screw Frank.

Beth stumbled away from him. He’d cut her deep, a long slash from the base of her palm nearly to her elbow. Her fingers curled in, the tips already numb, and a moan trembled on her lips.

“Did you think I loved you?” he asked softly, and Beth’s knees buckled as she fell to the floor. Her blood stained the gleaming wood, coating her fingers as she tried to crawl away from him.

“I loved you,” she yelled at him. And she had. From that first day, she’d wanted him. Wanted the life that he’d given her.

But he just stared down at her, and she wondered why she’d never seen the ice in his eyes before. Get up. No man would make her crawl. She shoved to her feet, stumbled again, and slipped in the blood. He stood there, watching her with his lips curved in a grin and the bloody glass shard held tight in his hand.

“I killed for you,” she threw back at him. Didn’t he understand? “Why did you—” The drumming of her heartbeat filled her ears. So loud. So fast.

“I needed you to keep an eye on the old bastard. To make sure there were no more changes to his will.” Quinlan glanced down at the bloody glass and his lips twisted. “And then there was the added bonus. Every time he screwed you, my father felt so guilty he could barely look at me.” A rough laugh. “I liked for him to squirm. He hated himself, and he didn’t pay any damn attention to me or the plans I was making.”

Her breath expelled in a hard rush, and the fingers of her right hand pressed over the pulsing wound. Her left hand felt totally numb, and blood was pumping out way too fast. “We can fix this,” she said, desperate. All that money. She’d worked for that money for so long. Screwed. Lied. Killed. The payoff was so close. “Y-you’re upset. You didn’t mean to—”

Quinlan laughed at her. “Beth, I meant to.” He took a step toward her, and Beth couldn’t help it; she fell back.

The money. She needed that money. Needed the new life it would give her. Not a whore’s daughter, not the girl everyone pitied. A new person.

“I’d always planned to kill you,” Quinlan said and took another gliding step toward her. “But I’d planned to wait until the cops weren’t watching my every move.” He lifted the glass. “Change of plans.”

“Bastard!”

He lunged for her. Beth spun away, running for the door and screaming as loud and as long as she could.

Someone had to be there. Donnelley. He never left. He’d be there. He’d be—

Quinlan grabbed her hair, but she kept running for the door. Blood droplets flew into the air, spraying from her wound.

“You’re making a damn mess,” he muttered, “one I’ll have to clean up.”

She twisted the knob and jerked open the door. Her feet sank into the thick carpet.

“Not so fast, bitch.” His fingers closed around her neck.

“Help me!”

“No one will,” Quinlan told her as he wrapped his arm around her and wrenched her tightly against him. He pulled her back into the room. She kicked and twisted but he held her too tightly. Why hadn’t she ever realized how strong he was?

Or maybe she was just getting weak. Because the room was starting to spin, and her face felt too hot, then too cold and—

A hot slice of pain burned her right wrist.

“Have to make it deep enough,” he muttered.

Beth blinked and shook her head. She glanced down at her wrists. Nausea rolled in her stomach at the long, thick slits. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. She was gonna have a big house. A driver. Everyone was gonna envy her.

Beth swung out with her hand. She tried to hit him, but her fingers wouldn’t work. The drumming in her ears was so loud. But not so quick now.

“You’re a fast bleeder, Beth.”

Her legs gave way.

“Wonder how long it will take for you to die.”

Tears tracked down her cheeks. “I-I… killed for… you.”

His smile broke her heart. “And now you’re dead, Beth.”

No, not yet. She pulled in a deep breath. Not yet. Beth kicked out with her leg, aiming hard for his knee.

The sound of sirens filled Sam’s ears. The shrill screams made her head ache even more.

“You all right?” The question came from Hyde. He was right beside her and driving too fast. Max was in the back of the SUV, quiet, tense.

Sam nodded then realized that she should speak. “Fine.” She’d had to fight the EMTs for her freedom, but no way was she going to miss this.

A caravan of FBI agents and cops raced toward Frank Malone’s residence. Going as fast as they could, shooting through intersections, racing over the streets.

“Why?” Max finally asked. It was the first word that he’d spoken since jumping into the SUV. “Why would Beth try to kill me?”

Money.

“The way I see it,” Hyde said, “you’re the only person standing between Beth’s lover and one hell of a lot of money.”

Sam glanced back at him and saw Max’s jaw tighten.

“Why’d she go after Scott Jacobson then?” he demanded. “He wasn’t standing between her and anything!”

“That’s a question I’m going to ask her.” The caravan made a sharp right turn. Hyde drove behind the lead car. “As soon as I have your stepfather’s assistant in custody.”