Lucas grabbed the chair by the door and turned it around backward before sliding into it. “You don’t really expect me to believe you’re driving that clunker and hiding out here when you’ve had some terrorist’s blood money at your disposal.”
Terrorist? Did Lucas know something about what had gone down that night?
“If I had a prayer of getting to that money on my own, would we be having this conversation?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. But then we also wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d managed to ditch me in the woods.”
She set the coffee aside. “I promise I can make it worth your while.” Just a little desperate to gain some small measure of control over her fate, she gripped his hand. “Please.”
His gaze dropped to where her fingers were curled around his, and plan or not, she didn’t let go, wanting to hold on to something, someone for just a second.
One second turned into five, then ten, and Lucas’s jaw grew tighter with every one of them.
Somewhere along the way she’d either overestimated his attraction to her, or her ability not to panic when he looked at her like he could see all the way into her soul.
Suddenly feeling way too vulnerable, she let go of him, wishing she’d gone with another plan altogether. Any other plan.
Lucas leaned in, catching a loose strand of hair and wrapping it around his finger, his eyes dark and intense. “What all are you promising me, Max?”
Half afraid he wouldn’t believe a word if she answered him, Max angled her face a little closer to his hand. To test him or herself?
His thumb brushed her jaw, the caress incredibly intimate coming from a stranger.
“I’ve been afraid and alone for a long time.” Slowly, she raised her head, letting him see the truth in her eyes. She meant every word. She just didn’t have any intention of using sex to get out of this mess. At least she was determined that it not come to that.
And she would have found it so much easier to believe that if Lucas wasn’t too damn good looking for her peace of mind. Keeping him squarely in the bad guy column was turning out to be a little trickier when she was playing the attraction card.
Lucas cupped her face, his fingertips sliding around her nape. “How long?”
Hoping this wouldn’t be the last game she ever played, she let her gaze drop to the mouth just inches from hers. “Too long.”
Her heart pounded to keep up with her lungs and every breath she sucked between her lips. She forced herself to hold his gaze, though the sizzling intensity in the green depths burned along her nerve endings.
Lucas edged closer, running his other hand along the outside of her thigh. His warmth seeped through the denim, and she pulled in another shallow breath, realizing too late she had overestimated herself.
Lucas was dangerous, a threat to her survival. But as he leaned in, his unshaven jaw rasping against her skin, she didn’t feel threatened. She felt—
His lips grazed her jaw and she almost leaped out of her skin.
God, she needed to pull back or shove him away. Something. Except when he dropped his head and gently dragged his teeth across to her neck, following the teasing scrape with a hot sweep of his tongue, a soft sigh fell from her parted lips.
The reasonable part of her brain ordered her to get a grip and not be sucked in by the role she’d stupidly chosen to play. Only the part that enjoyed his touch, that bone-deep craving for more, was all but impossible to drown out. And the longer he stared at her like she was his for the taking, the harder it was to pay attention to anything reasonable.
“Lucas,” she pleaded, but for what exactly she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure if Lucas was his real name, but she couldn’t make herself care. Her body hungered for a moment where she didn’t have to think about running or hiding or clearing her name.
Just one moment…
“Max?”
The sound of her name on his lips, all deep and rough, had her eyes sliding shut. “Yeah?”
“Exactly when did I give you the impression that I got friendly with every woman who promised me money to let her go?”
Max’s eyes snapped open, shock at the abrupt response giving way to anger she directed first at herself for thinking he wouldn’t see right through her, and then at him.
More specifically at the mocking smile on his face.
He didn’t give her a chance to work up an appropriate response before hauling her to her feet and steering her toward the door.
“Walk or be carried.” His sharp voice carried a warning that had Max rethinking any kind of sarcastic response.
In the short time she’d spent with him she’d heard charm, annoyance, frustration, but not anger. The unmistakable razor edge made her a little wary, but strangely reassured her that she was getting to him.
At this point, though, she was no longer sure if that was a good thing.
Outside, the sun had barely topped the treeline. Dragging her feet, Max stared at the truck with as much enthusiasm as she would a prison cell.
Lucas ignored her sluggish pace and continued to propel her forward. Her booted heels bit into the pavement. She couldn’t get back in the truck with him. She didn’t care that the odds of getting away with her hands still cuffed weren’t great. She refused to get back in the truck. Period.
The cold barrel of a gun dug into her side. “You’re not getting any crazy ideas, are you, Max?”
Lucas opened the door and despite the fact that he held a gun, she contemplated burying her knee in his groin. It was the least he deserved for pretending to go along with her, for making her forget who he was for even a heartbeat.
A beige Winnebago rolled to a stop in front of them, snaring both their attention. A sixtyish woman with long silver hair pulled back under a blue bandana rolled down the passenger side window. Smoothly, Lucas turned so that his body shielded the gun he pointed at Max’s chest.
“Hey, there. Could either of you give us directions to Fundy National Park?”
Lucas smiled, his expression sliding from don’t-fuck-with-me to happy-to-oblige between one beat and the next. “Wish we could help. I’ve always wanted to see the Hopewell Rocks myself.”
Max rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure the motel clerk inside would know,” Lucas added.
“Thanks.” The woman waved and the Winnebago pulled away, leaving them alone once more.
After helping her into the passenger side and belting her in, Lucas locked and shut the door before climbing behind the wheel. It took three tries before the reluctant pickup roared to life, but this morning Lucas appeared unruffled by the temperamental vehicle.
Too bad.
Stone-faced, Lucas stared straight ahead, guiding the truck out of the lot and putting them back on the road. Was he taking her to Blackwater? Or was he waiting on orders and planned to kill her the second he got the go ahead?
Ten minutes later, his gaze drifted in her direction. He opened his mouth to say something at the same time a blur cut across her peripheral vision.
Max braced herself a heartbeat before Lucas slammed on the brakes.
Chapter Five
The coopery taste of blood rolled across Lucas’s tongue, and he winced at the pain that branched from the center of his forehead, to his temples and down his neck. He dragged in a deep breath, bringing his hand to his chest, which ached like someone had nailed him with a sledgehammer.
What the hell happened?
He frowned, but even concentrating seemed to intensify his colossal headache. They had been driving and…
The colored spots exploding across his vision started to clear at the same moment he sensed movement beside him.
Something cold and sharp dug into his neck, and he hissed out a breath. His gaze slid left absorbing the dark bruise on Max’s cheek and the trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth.
Hard eyes stared back at him.
Well, he’d obviously been out long enough for her t
o find the key to her cuffs in his pocket, but how long had that been exactly? And where was his gun? He didn’t need to look down to known it wasn’t on him.
Had she already removed it? Or had it been dislodged on impact?
“Who are you?”
He might have laughed at the unexpected one-eighty his life had just taken—both figuratively and literally—if not for the cold metal sinking a little deeper into his neck for every second he didn’t answer.
He’d like to think Max wouldn’t sever his jugular, but he wasn’t stupid enough to bank on it. Although he’d been apparently stupid enough to think ill-timed and idiotic thoughts about how close her mouth had been to his earlier, and how ridiculously long it had been since he’d kissed a woman.
Her mouth was the last thing on his mind now, though, unless he counted the determined press of her lips until they were all but leached of color. If Max really had killed Cara, she wouldn’t think twice about killing him.
His gut told him she wasn’t a murderer or a dirty cop, but his instincts had failed him before. Like the night he’d let himself be separated from his partner and ended up losing her.
He swallowed carefully, not particularly caring if he answered her question or not. “What happened?”
“We hit a moose.”
Lucas glanced through the shattered windshield, taking in the pickup’s smashed front end butted up against a tree. “That’s an awfully solid moose.”
“We only clipped him. Can’t say the same about the tree.”
“You’re bleeding.” He motioned to her side, where something had ripped her sweater, but she kept her eyes fastened on his.
The corner of her mouth lifted as though she saw right through the attempt to distract her. She shoved the makeshift knife under his chin and the sharp tip sliced him.
He clenched his jaw, wanting to rip the blade out of her hand and knowing any move he made to take it from her might cost him.
“I want to know who you really are and what Blackwater’s orders are. Now.”
He knew he had to say something, but the truth wouldn’t go over well. If he admitted he worked for an organization outsourced by the government and that he was taking her in for interrogation she’d either take off, kill him or both.
Neither of those possibilities was particularly appealing.
Lucas released a pained breath. “You won’t believe me.”
“Probably not, but humor me anyway.” When he didn’t immediately answer, she tapped the blade with her index finger. “Time’s a wasting.”
“I’m Cara’s brother.”
Silence filled the truck’s cab.
Lucas searched her eyes, but the crisp blue depths remained guarded.
“You’re lying,” she said finally.
Lucas started to shake his head, but she jabbed the knife deeper. “I’m telling the truth,” he insisted, hoping like hell Caleb and Max had never crossed paths.
Caleb had been stationed overseas when Cara had been in the police academy, where she’d met Max, so the odds were slim the two had met. Even if she had seen a picture of Caleb years ago, there was a good chance Max wouldn’t remember what he looked like, but did she still know enough to see right through his lie?
Clearly skeptical—and that was putting it lightly—she arched one dark brow. “So why didn’t you say something before?”
“I didn’t really get the chance before your friends showed up—”
“They are not my friends.”
“After that you were so determined to get away from me, I knew you wouldn’t even listen to me, let alone believe me.”
A brittle smile cracked her lips. “I still don’t.”
“It’s the truth.”
“And did Blackwater provide you with Cara’s background information in case you needed it? Or did you take the initiative and do some digging on your own?”
“Ask me something only someone close to Cara would know.” He’d worked side-by-side with her for the last three years and had known her through Caleb for a few more before that. There wasn’t much about his partner that he didn’t know.
She snorted, still not buying it.
“I know Cara was at Samuel Blackwater’s party before she met with you the night she died.”
The knife eased off. A little. “And how do you know that?”
“I called in some favors.” He nodded, hoping he was getting somewhere with her. Otherwise, one or both of them was going to wind up hurt when he disarmed her.
“And what was Cara doing at Blackwater’s party?”
“Working on something classified, but that’s all I know.” Joe was going to have his balls on a platter for not only lying about his fishing plans, but following a lead alone and worse, losing control of the situation. Telling her anything about the Lassiter Group at this point would earn him a one-way ticket to the unemployment office, and he happened to like his job.
Most days.
Today wasn’t looking to be one of them, though.
“Classified,” she repeated, sounding unimpressed. “That wasn’t Cara’s answer.” She reached for the door handle with her free hand.
“You’re the only one who can help me, Max.”
“Help you what?”
“Nail the real killer.” At least that part wasn’t a complete lie. If Max didn’t kill Cara then she was his only connection to finding the bastard who did.
She tipped her head, her expression betraying nothing. “And what makes you so certain that I didn’t kill her?”
“You two were tight once.” He knew they’d gone through police academy together and Cara had shared more than a few stories when they had time to kill while on assignment.
“People turn on each other all the time.”
“Maybe I just don’t think you’ve got it in you.” Christ, he almost sounded like he believed it.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You don’t have a clue what I’m capable of.” The deceptively soft tone only managed to emphasize the warning. A warning he’d be stupid to ignore since she’d nearly knocked him out, used him to break her fall and attempted to seduce him.
Now he knew why Joe had been relieved when he said he was taking a little time off. Clearly only a man bordering on burn-out would let a minor attraction cloud his judgment. Right now that kind of complication would be about as helpful as Max cutting him another airway.
Lucas frowned. “Are you trying to convince me that you killed her?”
Pain blinked across her face. “I might as well have.”
He could say the same. Hell, he had said the same thing, but not nearly as often as he’d thought it. Things had gone wrong on missions in the past, both with the Lassiter Group and when he’d been Special Forces, but what happened with Cara was different.
He’d let himself get too close to her, to all of the team, making it that much harder to accept his role in her death. He should have had her back that night.
“Look, I know more about you than you think, Max. You’re a first-rate detective with a knack for following your gut, which usually turns out to be right. You’ve had more arrests than most senior officers in your precinct and your quick thinking and loyalty to the department has not only earned you respect and admiration, but three commendations.”
Max laughed, the sound cold and sharp. “And here I thought I was going stump you on the pop quiz.”
“You’re also well known for your…quick wit.” Calling her a smartass when she had a piece of jagged metal jammed against his throat wouldn’t be all that bright.
“Are you always so…diplomatic?” she mocked.
“When the occasion calls for it.”
Her narrowed gaze suggested she doubted that very much. “And how exactly do you think I can help you?”
“By going back—”
“I’m not going back to New York.” The patient amusement vanished from her expression and her spine straightened.
“That’s the only place we can eve
n hope to figure this out.” Especially by making a stop at Lassiter Group headquarters on the way.
She arched a brow. “We? There is no we. And there’s nothing in New York but a warrant for my arrest.”
“I can help you.”
Max withdrew the knife from his neck and slid back across the seat. “No, you can’t. No one can.”
Her hair shielded her face, but the vulnerability echoing behind her words tugged at him. Probably because he wasn’t sure anyone could fake the kind of blame he’d heard in her voice when she’d mentioned Cara.
Lucas probed his neck, studying the few drops of blood on his fingertips. “Max,” he began, but any words that might convince her escaped him.
“I don’t care if you're Cara’s brother or the next Dalai Lama. I’m not going back to New York.” She pushed open the door and jumped out.
Lucas squeezed his eyes shut. How did this situation continue to slip further and further out of his control? Without either gun, he didn’t hold any leverage to gain her cooperation and even if he did, they’d lost their only method of transportation.
Gearing himself up for another fight, Lucas undid his seatbelt and climbed down out of the truck. A sliver of pain under his ribs made him pause. He glanced toward the smashed front end. Christ, they were damn lucky to walk away from this with only minor injuries.
Before he followed Max, he reached in and grabbed the handcuffs she’d left on the floor. He couldn’t see the key anywhere, but pocketed the cuffs just in case.
Ahead of him, Max glanced up and down the road, indecision drawing her brows together.
“Wait up.” There had to be something he could say to convince her to go along with him. Peacefully.
Her pace didn’t slow.
Lucas jogged to catch up to her, shaking off the fading dizziness. His ribs felt bruised, but he ignored the discomfort. What were a few more injuries anyway? Between the aching shoulder and the headache that hammered at the back of his skull, bruised ribs he could live with.
Trust Me: The Lassiter Group, Book 1 Page 6
