Deadly Lies

by Cynthia Eden

  Time for Monica to take that promotion.

  “Stay on guard!” Monica called out as the agents slipped into the elevator. It was a warning they didn’t need. But Dante looked back at Monica, and his green eyes softened.

  “This isn’t right,” Monica whispered. “Donnelley doesn’t fit the profile of our lead kidnapper.”

  Hyde agreed. He’d read Donnelley’s file. Drug use. The guy was lucky to still have a medical license.

  But Donnelley had been working privately for the Malones for years. You could learn a lot of secrets when you were that close to a family. Secrets worth killing for.

  “Quinlan is the one we need,” Monica said, her voice calm and certain, even if her hands had clenched into fists. “The links all circle back to him.”

  “Then we’ll find him.” The phone on Kim’s desk rang, a long, low peal. Sam. He hurried forward and grabbed the phone. “Hyde.”

  “He’s gone!” A rough edge hardened Sam’s voice. “Max is going after Donnelly, and I’m not letting him go alone! I’m—”

  “Sam, we’ve got Donnelley’s location. He’s in a motel on New Curtis. Dante and Daniels are on their way to apprehend him now.”

  “If Donnelley is there, then there’s no way he’s watching us now.” Soft, muttered, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I’m going after him. I’m not letting Max get caught in the crossfire.”

  Hyde’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Turn on the GPS in your car.” Instinct and fear drove the demand. “In case we lose phone contact, make sure we can track you.” Because he’d be damned if he ever lost her again.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Kennedy?”

  A door slammed in the background, and he knew she was already on the move. “Sir?”

  “Keep him safe.”

  Max’s rental car raced out of the garage. Good thing Samantha had gotten another agent to bring it by early that morning because he really hadn’t been in the mood to steal a ride.

  His phone vibrated before he’d even reached the street. Swearing, he glanced down. Different number, one he didn’t know. He picked up the phone.

  “Max…”

  “I’m coming, okay?”

  “Put the bitch on the line.”

  Ice froze his blood. Not watching, not yet, or he’d know—

  “She’s not with you.” Anger snapped in the whispered words.

  “No, she’s not, and you’re not getting her.” Max braked the car, heard the squeal of tires, and demanded, “Now tell me where the hell you are.”

  Silence.

  “Where are you?”

  “Get on the highway.” A whisper. “Go West.”

  Max drove forward.

  “Take the second exit ramp.”

  Max’s teeth were clenched so tight that his jaw ached. How had it come to this?

  “You’ll pay for not bringing the whore.”

  His foot slammed on the gas. No, you’ll be the one who pays.

  Sam wrenched open her car door, jumped inside, and revved the VW’s engine. In less than three seconds, she was out of the garage. Just in time to catch the flash of Max’s taillights. Hurry.

  Her heart thundered in her chest, and her sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel. She wouldn’t lose Max.

  The VW flew out onto the highway, and Sam realized they were heading the wrong way. New Curtis was toward the east, just a few moments away.

  But Max was heading in the opposite direction.

  “Max.” She fumbled with her phone. This was wrong. A setup. She had to warn the other agents.

  His phone rang again a moment later. Max still had it gripped in his right hand. He punched the screen. “What?”

  “4219 Willow Way.”

  His breath hissed out at the familiar address. The agents wouldn’t have searched that old cabin because it wasn’t Frank’s; it was his. Left to him by his mother.

  “Now roll down your window and throw your phone out.”

  He hesitated. It would be so easy to just call the Feds, to call Sam and tell her the address.

  But if he did, would the guy be long gone before he arrived?

  “I can see you….”

  His gaze swept around the highway. All he saw was a swirl of cars. Was the bastard watching now? Or lying again?

  “Throw the phone out.”

  Max hit the button for the automatic window. It lowered with a whir of sound, and he tossed out his phone.

  The maid was shaking as she unlocked room 203 at the Highline Motel. Luke grabbed her arm and pulled her back the second that the door squeaked open.

  “Federal agents!” he yelled. “Nathan Donnelley, we’re coming in!”

  He kicked the door open the rest of the way and went in with his gun drawn. Moving soundlessly, Kim was right at his back.

  And Donnelley was waiting for them.

  Sam’s phone rang just as she was preparing to call the SSD. She grabbed the phone, not even looking at the screen as she kept her eyes on the rental car. “Hyde, did you get—”

  Max was turning again. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

  “Throw your phone out the window, bitch.” The rasp made her breath choke out.

  Her gaze shot to the mirror. Sam caught sight of the dark truck with tinted windows that was closing in on her.

  Following us.

  She glanced down at her phone. That wasn’t the number she’d seen for Donnelley. The asshole had switched phones.

  “Do you want him to die? It will be so easy to kill him.”

  Sam lowered her window. Wind whipped into the car and sent her hair flying.

  The phone dropped onto the pavement. Shattered.

  Luke stared at Donnelley’s face. Pale and still. A red smile had been cut into his neck, a grin that stretched sickeningly from ear to ear. And the bastard’s chest had been carved open.

  Luke inhaled the stench of death and spun around, the phone already at his ear. “Hyde! We’ve got a problem. Yeah, yeah, we found the phone.” Tossed next to the corpse. “And Donnelley.”

  “Get him in here. I want him to tell us—”

  “Sir, he isn’t going to be talking.” Luke threw one more fast glance at the body. “Not to anyone.”

  So Donnelley damn well wasn’t the one who’d made the call to Ridgeway. “Can you get Sam? She’s got to know what’s happening.”

  The pause on the line stretched too long, and Luke knew Hyde was trying to connect with Sam on one of the SSD’s other lines. Then Hyde said, “She’s not answering.”

  What? No, shit, she—

  “But don’t worry,” Hyde continued, “she’s showing us exactly where we need to go.”

  Sam’s hands had a death grip on the steering wheel. The black truck had disappeared, veering away minutes before. Just a few miles down the road, she could see the trunk of Max’s car in front of her. Had he seen her yet? She’d stayed back at first and tried to keep other cars between them.

  The VW jolted when she hit a pothole. Woods surrounded her, and the old road had sure seen better days. Traffic had thinned quickly. No one else was traveling on this deserted stretch as she drove farther from the bustle of the city and into the thick woods of the countryside. No one else was there—Max had to see her. No place to hide now.

  Virginia. They’d crossed the state line at some point. As the road snaked deeper into the woods, Sam wondered where this chase was leading them.

  She lost sight of Max for a moment when she rounded a curve, and fear spiked her blood. The VW pushed forward, taking the sharp curve too fast, and Sam glimpsed the glittering water of a river. The river waited on the left, narrowing up ahead as it flowed hard and fast under a metal bridge. The sunlight hit the surface of the water, reflected back, and made the waves look gray, not black as—

  Something slammed into the side of her car. Sam screamed, and her head whipped to the right. The black truck. It had shot out from a dirt road—a road almost completely hidden b
y the thick pine trees—and plowed right into her.

  Glass shattered around her, and metal screeched. She slammed on the brakes as she fought to control her car. The VW was shaking, sagging, and the passenger side air bag had exploded out, blasting white and blocking her view of the truck as it reversed—

  And then lunged forward, hitting her again. Metal screeched once more. She screamed, and the truck’s motor revved as the horsepower kicked in. The truck started to push her car toward the edge of the road.

  “No!” She fumbled, trying to unsnap her seatbelt. Glass rained down on her, cutting her hands, her face, and the blood made her fingers slick. The VW shuddered as the truck forced it closer to the water.

  The seat belt popped free. Sam reached out to shove open her door.

  Too late.

  The VW rolled over the edge of the road and sent her tumbling inside the car. Her head slammed into the ceiling, and her body twisted. Her back rammed into the windshield, and her knee hit the gearshift. Sam felt something pop.

  Roll. Roll. Roll.

  Another loud screech filled her ears as the front of the car scraped past the edge of the bridge. Then the car crashed into the river. Water came flooding in through the shattered windows. The car filled up fast.

  Cold. So cold. Holding her down. Killing her.

  Sam opened her mouth and screamed as the water rose.

  Max’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror. He thought he’d caught a flash of red moments before. Red… Samantha’s car was red….

  Would she have followed him? Hell yes.

  As he cleared the bridge, his gaze drifted to the river. After a moment, he glanced back in the mirror—and saw a nightmare.

  A black truck plowed into the side of a red VW—Samantha’s car. The truck rammed the car again, and the little vehicle rolled down into the river.

  The water.

  “Samantha!” His foot shoved the brake pedal all the way to the floorboard. He wrenched the wheel, spinning the car around in the road and sending up a cloud of dust. Then he flew hell fast back to her.

  The drumming of his heartbeat filled his ears, and he whispered her name, again and again. Be alive. Oh, Christ. She had to be okay.

  He jumped from his car even before it had come to a full stop. The black truck sat near the edge of the road, the engine idling, the door hanging open, swaying. But the driver’s seat was empty.

  Bastard’s out there. Waiting.

  Watching. He’d known Samantha was tailing Max. He’d taken her out and deliberately brought Max into the open in order to attack.

  Screw him.

  Max ran for the river. He screamed Samantha’s name because he didn’t see her. The VW was sinking quickly in the deep water near the bridge. A fist squeezed his heart as he prepared to dive into that icy water—

  A bullet tore through his shoulder. The blast of the gun echoed in his ears even as he fell. Max tumbled down the embankment and rolled toward the water. The fiery pain stole his breath, and when the damn world stopped spinning, he was in the water.

  Samantha. He rose up, struggling to his feet.

  Another gunshot—this one hit him in the back of the leg. He couldn’t see the VW’s tires anymore. The car had flipped, and it had sunk so fast, going completely under.

  Max slid down again. “Bastard!”

  Laughter echoed across the lake. “No… that would be you, brother.”

  His head whipped around, and in that split second, Max found himself staring back at Quinlan. His stepbrother stood on the road, close to the black truck, with a gun in his hand. A gun pointed right at Max.

  “Move toward her again,” Quinlan said, “and I’ll put a hole in your chest.” And he smiled. Smiled.

  The cold water lapped at Max with greedy, grasping hands.

  I-I wanted to die. By the fifth time, I begged to die.

  Hell, no, he wouldn’t leave Samantha in that water. “Then shoot, asshole, shoot!” Max dove under the water, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and the agonizing throb in his leg.

  Bullets blasted into the river, shooting around him. He struck out, swimming awkwardly because his leg was nearly useless. Get to the car. Get her.

  His hand struck metal. The VW. He grabbed the door, wrenching it open more and—

  Fingers touched his. Soft.

  Samantha was there, kicking out of the car as bubbles rose from her lips. Max grabbed her. Pulling her close, he sealed his lips to hers, and gave her the last breath he’d taken.

  Her body shuddered against his. He knew that she wanted to kick up. The surface was temptingly close.

  But so was Quinlan. The brother he’d tried to protect. The one who wanted to kill him and his lover.

  They couldn’t swim straight up. They’d be perfect targets. He’ll take us out as fast as he can, and leave us in the water.

  An easy way to dispose of their bodies.

  Samantha kicked against him, trying to rise, but he wrapped his arms around her, held tight, and pushed her down.

  Her eyes opened, wide and panicked as she stared at him. He shook his head, needing her to understand. Desperate for her to see…

  But there was fear on her face because he was shoving her farther down, farther…

  A thick line of woods waited on the eastern side. If he could get them closer to the bank, they might have a chance to run for it. Better than nothing. He pushed her toward that side and kicked as best he could as they fought the current.

  But Max had used all his strength to push her, and the bullet wounds were taxing him, draining him fast. His lungs burned, and he knew they’d have to rise soon.

  The fire in his lungs burned hotter. Samantha’s eyes were on his. Wide. Dark.

  So beautiful. Maybe the last thing that he’d ever see would be her pale face surrounded by the floating cloud of her hair.

  Another bubble slipped past her lips.

  They had to take a breath. Max kicked up. She kicked too, fast and desperate, and they drove up toward the surface.

  Before he broke through the water, Max knew they weren’t far enough away. Not even close. But maybe Quinlan would be looking the wrong way. Looking toward the spot where the car went down.

  Just need a few moments.

  The water lightened. He could see the bright rays of the sun. Close, so close.

  They burst through the surface. They both sucked in deep gulps of air as hard as they could. Max spun around, shoving her behind him, because there wouldn’t be much time.

  His eyes found Quinlan. He saw his brother whirl toward them—saw him lift the gun and smile. Max braced himself as he got ready to take the third hit.

  The thunder of the gun almost deafened him. But that hadn’t been Quinlan’s gun. It had been Samantha’s. She’d lifted her arm out of the water and fired the small weapon he’d never even seen when he’d pulled her from the car. Quinlan staggered back with a look of utter shock on his face. Blood ballooned on his chest in a thick, wide circle, and he fell back into the water, slipping out of sight.

  Samantha’s hand was rock steady, and the gun stayed pointed at the spot where his brother had been standing seconds before.

  Max’s breath panted out, matching hers, and he looped his arm around her waist as he pulled her close.

  “We’ve got to go,” she whispered, her lips feathering against his neck. “We have to, Max. I-I don’t think he’s dead.”

  He started struggling for the shore.

  “I… lost my glasses… couldn’t see…” She choked a bit, sputtering water.

  His feet hit the rocky bottom. “Go to my car,” he ordered, aware that the liquid dripping down his body wasn’t all water. “Go…. I’ll be…”

  He fell, half in the water, half on the shore.

  “Max?” Her hands were on him. “Max, you’ve been shot!”

  He struggled to his knees. “Go!”

  “Not without you.” She tried to grab him, and he realized she was holding her gun with her left hand bec
ause the right hand hung limp. Broken.

  And blood oozed from the cuts on her forehead and on her arms.

  I’ll kill him. The brother he’d tried so hard to protect. The monster hiding in plain sight.

  They staggered together and managed to get up the damn slope. Samantha had her gun. She was ready, sweeping the area for Quinlan, but that little bastard wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “Need your phone,” Samantha whispered.

  “Fucker had me throw it out.” He’d get her to his car, force her inside, then find Quinlan. Get the gun. The gun he’d taken from Samantha was inside the rental car. He’d get it, leave her with the weapon she had, and finish this nightmare.

  Max pushed forward. His left leg dragged behind him and his arm lay across Samantha’s shoulder. She shuddered against him. Wet, fragile. He had to bite back the rage that threatened to choke him. Quinlan had gone after her.

  In the water. Fuck. Her worst nightmare.

  The car waited just steps away. Max’s gaze raked the area, left to right. Where was Quinlan? Where?

  Max didn’t speak. He shoved forward through the pain. Then he was at his car. Finally. He yanked open the door, pushed Samantha inside—

  A loud, furious shout froze him. Max spun around and saw Quinlan running from behind the black truck. The gun wasn’t in his hand anymore; maybe he’d lost it in the water. Quinlan held a knife. The edge gleamed, reflecting the light as Quinlan charged right at them.

  Samantha pushed away from the car and lifted her gun. “Drop it!” Her own scream vibrated with rage. “Don’t make me do it, Quinlan, don’t make me—”

  But he kept running toward her.

  Samantha squeezed the trigger, but this time the gun just made a snick. Water droplets flew to the ground but the damn gun didn’t fire.

  Jammed. Shit. She’d been lucky the gun fired the first shot. The water—

  Quinlan raised the knife high up into the air. Max shoved Samantha to the ground, and the knife caught him, slashing across the back of his arm.

  “Always thought you were better…” Quinlan rasped at him. “Fucking show you… fucking show everyone…”