Lethal Lies

by Rebecca Zanetti

  A child would certainly bind Elton to her for the rest of his life. It also seemed a shame to waste Isobel’s intelligence; maybe she should pass that on to another generation like she had with Audrey. Through the years, Isobel had considered creating more children, but her secret hope had been to have one with the commander. That hope had only recently been destroyed by his death. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” Elton said.

  With some splicing and careful work, she might be able to create the perfect soldier using her own genes. Perhaps she should harvest several of her eggs.

  What would combining her genetic material with samples from one of her earlier creations do? Heath’s extraordinary reflexes, self-control, and raw size would be a nice combination with her intelligence. Elton could never know that her thoughts were going in that direction, however. “I’m very intrigued by your idea, Elton.”

  He smiled. “I thought you would be. Just think of the kid we’d have.”

  “I am,” she said softly, donning a sweet smile as her mind went to work. The new lead with Detective Malloy had her instincts humming and her spine straightening. Oh, she was so close to finding them.

  It was time. The Lost boys would be back home within the week. She just knew it. Codes started to stream across her screen. “It’s time to send a force to Snowville.”

  CHAPTER

  30

  As dawn tried to usher in the morning against the grim night, Heath prowled around the decoy office, making sure all the cameras were on and capturing the entire area. This was the last day his brothers could stay in town. Madison and Cobb would be closing in.

  So was the serial killer. He could just feel it. Sensors had been placed in the floor, so they’d know instantly if anybody breached the perimeter. The locks would then engage. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered. The walls started closing in, making it hard to breathe.

  The stairwell door opened, and Denver stumbled into the office.

  Ah hell. Heath took in the dark circles beneath Denver’s eyes. “What are you doing up?”

  “Can’t sleep,” his brother muttered, stalking over to his desk. “Thought I’d grab a drink.”

  “You’ve been drinking all night.” It was a guess but not a tough one. Denver’s eyes were bloodshot, and his movements were a little slower than normal. Oh, Heath would take a drunk Denver to cover his back over most men, but even so. “Dude. Your liver is going to start rebelling.”

  Denver rolled his eyes and yanked out his desk drawer. The pain gripping him wasn’t going to let him loose.

  Heath moved toward the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll join you.” It was time they talked. Ryker usually handled the emotional stuff, but he had his hands full with keeping Zara safe and now planning a wedding. What was a chocolate fountain, anyway? Heath grabbed two coffee mugs off the counter and approached the desk. His heart ached to see his brother hurting. There had to be something he could do.

  Denver pulled out a bottle of Jack to pour into each cup. “No talking.” He dropped into his chair.

  Heath rolled a chair over, frustration sharpening his movements. He was being a crappy brother, and he needed to help Denver now. “Wrong. There will be talking.”

  Denver sighed and tipped back his glass.

  Heath shook his head. “I’m barely holding on here, man. You’ve got to tell me what’s eating you up so badly.”

  “Nothin’. Just life.” Even after a full night of drinking, Denver sounded stone-cold sober. That had to be a bad sign. “I feel like a sittin’ duck here.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Heath eyed the walls again. “Yeah. I get that.” When the newspaper article hit the paper that morning, they would have all but sent an invitation to Sheriff Cobb to track them down. “We’re stronger than Cobb is, you know.” Together they were stronger than any enemy.

  “Yep.” Denver poured more booze into his cup. “Though monsters from your childhood always seem bigger in your mind.”

  “True,” Heath whispered. Denver could be the quiet philosopher when he wanted. Heath had always liked that about him. Heath took a sip and let the liquor burn down his throat, the feeling sharper than the guilt of letting his brother get to this point. “I’ve been lax.” Too caught up in his own issues.

  “You’re fine. We’re fine,” Denver said somberly. “Stop blaming yourself for everything.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Sure you do. Probably something having to do with your mom dying young.” Denver turned the cup in his hands, his gaze becoming thoughtful.

  Now even Den was a shrink. Heath opened himself to the possibility. “You’re probably right.” Yet he still owed Denver his best, and seeing the guy hurting slammed a helplessness into him that actually ached. He set his cup down and absently rubbed the scar on his palm. “Ryker and I were good friends before you showed up at the boys home.”

  “Yep.” Denver studied him.

  Heath shifted in his seat. “We became a family when you joined us.”

  Denver looked at his own scarred hand. At the line making them brothers. Officially. “I know.”

  Heath fought for patience. He could do this. “Are you regretting leaving Noni behind?”

  “Are you going to leave Anya?” Denver asked quietly, his shoulders slumping.

  Heath jerked back. “This is about you.”

  “Nope. I had to leave Noni. We’re not normal, Heath.”

  No, they weren’t. They’d seen the darker side of life—they’d embraced it and made it their own. Most people wouldn’t get that. “You’re right. Anya has no idea. I can’t take somebody that delicate on the run from Cobb and Madison. That’d be crazy.”

  Denver nodded. “So you get it. You’re wrong about her, but you do get it.” He scratched his chin. “Plus, you and I know we’re waging a war, and we’re going to try to keep Ryker out of the line of fire.”

  Heath blew out air. “Yeah. I know.” Ryker had proposed and was getting married. He needed to be protected for Zara. “I’m okay with it. Are you?”

  “Absolutely,” Denver said, his gaze flaring. “I want him happy. In addition, I want you happy and safe.”

  Heath’s shoulders jolted. “You’re not going after them alone. Don’t even fucking think it.”

  Denver remained silent.

  Damn it. “Listen. They have trained soldiers, and Cobb wants us dead, whether or not Madison needs us alive. Either way, it ain’t gonna be good.”

  “I know. That’s why I left Noni.” Denver took another slug.

  “If we beat them—if we end Cobb and Madison—are you going back for her?” Heath asked quietly.

  Denver stared into his now-empty cup. “I don’t know.”

  Yeah? Well, Heath sure as hell knew. If they lived through taking out Cobb and the psycho doctor, he’d kidnap both Denver and Noni and put them in a mountain cabin somewhere they couldn’t leave. Yeah. Good plan.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Denver muttered.

  Heath grinned. “Okay. Let’s go back to agreeing about Ryker, okay? He stays safe when we go.”

  “I have super-hearing, you dumb-asses.” Ryker strode into the room, bare chested and with his jeans unbuttoned. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes concerned. “I heard you guys.”

  Heath reached for his glass. He would’ve heard Ryker had the guy not gone stealth on them. “The downside of having superhuman, genetically altered hearing. Shit wakes you up.”

  “I’m not being left behind. Ever.” Ryker eyed the bottle. “You guys putting one on?”

  “No. Too much to do still before we invite a killer into our little nest.” Heath took another drink. “Just having a bit of a chat.”

  “Good.” Ryker scratched his whiskered chin. “You’re both dumbshits.”

  Denver set down his cup, and Heath jerked his head toward his brother. “Excuse us?” Heath drawled.

  “I’m done, Heath,” Ryker said, his gaze softening. “I have a woman in my bed muttering about place
settings, I have Denver here losing his ass in a bottle, and now I have you, the normally reasonable one, being dishonest with himself. Not to mention you two just made a tacit agreement to go after killers without me. Not happening.”

  Heath pushed his cup onto the desk and partially turned to face Ryker, his chest heating. “You’re gonna want to clarify the dishonesty statement, brother.”

  Denver pushed away from the desk, no doubt to intervene if necessary. Always the peacemaker, wasn’t he? Heath took note of Denver’s movements while keeping his gaze on Ryker, who did look like he was done. His chest was out, his chin was up, and his eyes said he was pissed. Even with interesting little scratch marks across his battle-worn chest, which showed he’d probably just gotten laid, his temper was clearly present and ready to go.

  “Cool it,” Denver said.

  “No,” Ryker said. “You love her. Stop lying to yourself and deal with it.” He partially turned toward Denver. “I’ll deal with you next.”

  Fire flashed in Denver’s eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

  Heath shook his head. “I just met the woman.”

  “Who gives a fuck?” Ryker snapped. “Time doesn’t really have constraints in our world, and you know it. There’s no reason to stop livin’ just because we’re being hunted. We’ve run long enough, and it’s time to end this. I agree it’s time to take the fight to Cobb and Madison.”

  “You’re prepared? You know what we have to do?” Denver asked.

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Ryker replied just as tersely.

  Heath breathed out. “Shit, man.” Yeah, he could probably put a bullet in Cobb without breaking a sweat. But Madison? A woman?

  “I’ll do it,” Ryker said. “I’m not asking you to.”

  No, he wasn’t. But Ryker couldn’t cold-bloodedly kill a woman any more than Heath could. Not even that woman.

  “Could go to Montana,” Denver said. “Go off the grid like the Gray brothers have.”

  Heath rubbed his chest. “There’s no off the grid. They’re safe now, but they won’t be forever. There’s no way they’re not having this same conversation on a regular basis, especially now that our brothers have taken in the next generation and started having their own kids.”

  Ryker nodded. “Exactly my point. There’s no future and no safety as long as Cobb and Madison are breathing. We want a future, and we have people to share that with. There’s only one way it can happen.” His gaze was stark. “It’s our only option, as much as I hate it.”

  “Fine. I agree that we’re all in if we go,” Denver said. “We don’t know where they are.”

  “We can find them,” Heath countered. “We can find Cobb, and I’m sure he’ll lead us right to Madison, even though he’s on sabbatical from his sheriff job.” He eyed Ryker. “You brought Zara into it, and we’re fine with that. But you should stay safe.”

  “No. We’re all in—together. Period.” Ryker reached for the bottle and tightened the cap. “I won’t let you guys down. I’m not distracted.”

  “Didn’t think you were,” Heath countered.

  Ryker cut him a look. “Really? Part of the reason you won’t go for it with Anya is that you don’t want to have your attention split when we rush into hell. I’m not better than you.”

  Huh. Heath frowned, his mind spinning. “I know, but—”

  “No buts. If you had a future, a good one, would you keep Anya?” Ryker asked.

  “She’s not a puppy,” Heath muttered.

  Denver snorted.

  It was a good question, though. Forget reality and timelines. Could he imagine a future without her? His chest hurt again.

  Ryker kept the bottle. “I say we finish this case and cut off the Copper Killer’s head. Then we take out Madison and Cobb.”

  “Aren’t we macabre tonight?” Denver asked, eyeing his bottle.

  “Yeah.” Ryker glanced toward the door to the stairs. “If that’s what it takes to protect Zara, I’ll do it.”

  Denver nodded. “Agreed. One case at a time, though.”

  The idea of anything harming Anya propelled Heath right back to the current issue. “All right. We have to get back to work. A serial killer is planning his next move, and everything in me says it’s gonna be soon.”

  The words hung in the air like an icy omen.

  Anya finished wiping up in the kitchen, her nerves almost frayed. Tension hung over the office, heavy and ominous. Ryker and Zara scouted outside as if they were going for a walk, Denver typed furiously on the computer, and Heath checked the motion sensors set into the office for about the millionth time. What if the trap sprung and locked them in instead?

  The waiting was going to kill her. Forget about the bad guy.

  Was it possible her impromptu news conference had been only last week? If so, that had given the guy enough time to scout Snowville and find a good killing spot. There were tons of abandoned barns throughout eastern Washington. “He should be getting antsy from seeing me cozying up with Heath.”

  Heath rubbed the back of his neck. “Agreed, but he’s smart. He may have a different victim already chosen, and he’s taking her while we’re waiting with a trap.”

  “Yeah, but Anya’s challenge would be hard for him to resist,” Denver said, not looking up from his computer.

  “Yeah. He’s locked on.” Anya placed the dishrag over the faucet. Denver had begun speaking more freely around her, and that warmed her thoroughly, even as Heath appeared to be more distant than ever. He hadn’t joined her in bed all night. She tried to make herself okay with that fact. They weren’t a couple in real life. This was make-believe for a killer. But one more night with Heath would’ve been nice to keep her mentally warm in the future.

  She ran her thumb over her naked finger where the ring had been—an obvious connection to Heath. It represented a feeling of security and protectiveness that she missed. Man, she had it bad.

  Why wouldn’t he trust her with everything about himself? She would be able to handle it. Trust was the only way they could go forward.

  If that’s what he wanted. Maybe he truly didn’t want more than right now.

  If so, after they caught the killer—if they did—she’d go on a cruise. Somewhere warm, all by herself, to figure out her life before she went back to work at the college. Then maybe—in the far, far, far future—she’d be able to forget Heath Jones and find somebody else.

  Yeah, right. Plus, she wanted to stay in touch with Zara. The former paralegal had an infectious laugh and such a brave way of facing life. They’d formed a good friendship already.

  “Anya?” Heath asked. “Did you hear me?”

  “No.” She turned and smoothed down her dark jeans. His eyebrows were drawn down. “Sorry. I was thinking too hard.”

  He waited a beat before speaking again. With his faded jeans and dark green T-shirt, he looked powerful and masculine. “You don’t have to be here if you’re scared. I can put you somewhere safe while we wait for this guy.”

  “That’s not the plan,” she said. Plus, wasn’t it the girl off being safe who always got kidnapped? Seriously. Had he never watched Buffy or Angel? “We agreed the guy has to see me in here working and going up to bed.” She frowned. “But he’ll see you, too. All of his victims were taken when they were alone.” Although . . . wasn’t that even more of a challenge?

  Heath nodded. “I’m betting something will happen to draw me away. This isn’t the type of guy to walk in shooting.”

  “Wish he were,” Denver said.

  “Definitely,” Anya agreed. “He shoots, we shoot back, and it’s over.” It definitely wouldn’t be that easy.

  She wandered over to her temporary desk, sat, and reached for a stack of files. Victim files. She filtered through them, rereading the killer’s moves, seeing the damage he’d created.

  So much blood, fear, and death. Her mind fuzzed while she tried to focus. Smart. She needed to be smart here. Taking several deep breaths, she opened the file she’d copied from
the profilers. “The profilers disagree. One thinks the killer is two men, while the other is sure it’s one brilliant psychopath.”

  Heath was using some handheld device while wandering around the room. Every once in a while, the box would ding in his hand, and he’d nod. “I read those. My guess is it’s one guy. Makes more sense.”

  Anya kept reading. “I still agree. Midthirties, white, highly educated but isolated.” Weren’t many serial killers in that demographic? She kept reading, not finding anything concrete to use in trying to find the guy. “I went through my notes and files again. I just can’t figure out who he is. How I met him.”

  Heath kept moving around the room. “If you met him. It could be somebody you passed on the street who formed an obsession. Right?” A low thread of tension was in his tone, and his energy rolled through the room, taking over the entire atmosphere.

  “Yes. These guys live in their own fantasy world.” Anya shifted her body on the chair. Goose bumps rose along her arm. She tried to calm her breathing and fight the sensation that she was about to crawl out of her own skin.

  Zara entered the front of the office with Ryker covering her back. She held several copies of the newspaper. “Well, you made the front page of the business section.” Dusting snow off her shoulders, she continued to Anya’s desk and dropped the business page in front of her. “With a full picture of Anya and Heath in their happy engagement glow along with clear directions to Lost Bastards Investigative Services.”

  Heath swore quietly but kept moving around the room with his device.

  Anya looked down at her friendly expression staring back as the new face of Lost Bastards. Heath had his arm possessively around her shoulder, and they looked happy. Well. That was that, then. “The reporter made a big deal about our engagement. Oh, the killer is going to take this as a slap in the face—and now with a countdown because I’m leaving town and he won’t be able to find me.”

  Zara breathed out, lines fanning from her eyes. “That was the plan, right?”

  Anya swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Yeah. That was the plan.”