“He’s got a record, Sam. One that his old man worked damn hard to keep hidden.”
Her shoulders hunched. “Quinlan?” She’d wondered about that. Two of the other kidnapped men had been arrested for drug possession.
“No, Max.”
She blinked. “You sure?”
“Samantha?” Max questioned. The thick carpet muffled his steps “Who is it? What’s going on?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Had Luke heard Max’s voice? She shook her head but kept her eyes on his.
“He killed a man,” Luke told her. “Do you hear me? He killed a man.”
Her lips felt numb so it was hard to ask. “When?”
“Hell… years ago. He was fourteen. Ridgeway used a bat to hit some guy named John Dean. The courts tried Ridgeway as a minor, and he got kicked out of the system when he was eighteen. Then when his mom hooked up with Malone, well, some judge magically sealed his files.”
But the SSD knew how to unseal any file.
“Watch your ass with him, got me?” Luke pressed.
Max’s blue gaze bored into her.
“And Beth Dunlap isn’t who she says, either,” Luke continued. “Her real name’s Kailey Elizabeth Gentry. She was busted for soliciting when she was eighteen.”
No one was ever who they seemed to be. Not even me.
Her breath choked out.
“Samantha?” Max’s brows shot up. “What is it?” Worry darkened his eyes. “Is it Quinlan? Has something happened to him?”
She shook her head.
“He’s there,” Luke growled in her ear.
Yes, Max stood right in front of her now and crowded her against the wall. She still had her weapon, but it was in the purse on the desk and no use to her.
You don’t need a weapon. He hasn’t hurt you. He’s not even touching you.
Luke’s sigh carried easily over the phone. “Stay on guard, every minute. Don’t trust this guy. Don’t trust anyone there.”
Once upon a time, trust had come easily for her. Those days were gone. She didn’t need Luke’s warning.
Screwing a killer. Is that how messed up her life had become?
She’d thought Max was the toughest-looking guy in the bar. The strongest. The sexiest.
But had there been more? Had she been drawn to him because he was dark inside? Dark, just like she was?
Her stomach clenched. “I can take care of myself,” she told Luke.
“If you need me, you call me,” Luke ordered. “Fuck the case. Call me.”
Sam pressed the screen and ended the call.
Max reached for her, and she flinched—an instinctive reaction.
His expression hardened. “You know.” A wealth of understanding and a simmer of rage filled the simple words.
Then Max stepped even closer, and her back rammed against the wall.
Be strong. Don’t do this. Stop backing down.
“Guess that was your Special Agent on the phone.” Max’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “And let me guess; he’s been digging around in my past.”
“I-it’s procedure.” It was. “Family members and close acquaintances always have to be-be investigated.” Killer.
Max? No, he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He’d held her when she woke up screaming in the night.
His hands rose and trapped her against the wall. “Big tough agent,” he murmured. “But you’re so scared right now, you’re shaking.” His eyes held hers. “Does it make you afraid, knowing how close you are to a killer?”
“St-stop it.”
His lips grazed her jaw. “You said killers all belong in cages, right? But you let me touch you. Let me taste every part of you.”
She brought her hands up and pressed them against his chest. He didn’t move.
“You had sex with a killer,” Max continued.
Sam shoved him back. “Get away from me!” The order came as nearly a scream when it should have been a controlled order. But she was shattering from the inside out. Max didn’t know, couldn’t know. Her secrets were hers. No one had dug them up.
“You wanted me closer before.” How could blue eyes look so dark? “You all but begged me to get closer.”
She attacked. Her hands balled into fists. Sam slammed her shoulder into his mid-section even as she struck out with her right hand. Take him down. Take him out.
They crashed to the floor. Max grunted at the impact and his hands came up.
Fight back, fight—
He grabbed her wrists, rolled and twisted so that she was under him. Sam head-butted him and bucked, kicking out with her feet. No, not done yet, not out. She was strong. Stronger.
“You won’t hurt me anymore!” The words burst from her as the past tangled with the present. “I won’t beg. I won’t—”
“Shit, Samantha, for Christ’s sake, stop!”
A fist pounded on the door. “What the hell is happening in there?” Frank roared.
The doorknob rattled. She’d locked the door automatically to secure the room.
Max’s breath panted out as he stared down at her. No fury glittered in his gaze. Worry. A touch of fear. For her.
Broken. Oh, no, oh God, no—if Hyde found out what she’d just done—
“We’re fine,” Max yelled, but his hold on her didn’t loosen. “Just leave us alone!”
She could feel Frank’s hesitation, but after a few beats of silence, she heard the thuds of his fading footsteps.
Her eyes squeezed shut, and her head fell back against the carpet. What had she done? And why?
“You’re not what you pretend to be,” Max said, voice rumbling as the fingers holding her began to stroke her in long, slow glides. Trying to soothe. “You’re not the tough agent, are you?”
She wanted to be.
He lowered her hands to the carpet, but kept his caressing hold. “Someone hurt you,” he said with certainty and, finally, with the anger that she’d expected.
Her lashes lifted. “Let me go.” They’d make it through tonight. Somehow, some way, they’d make it through. After the exchange tomorrow, she’d tell Hyde what happened. She couldn’t protect Max—not when she was the one attacking him.
And Hyde would see that he’d been right. She shouldn’t be back on duty. She wasn’t ready. Not even close.
“Were you raped?” he asked with his body flush against hers, strong muscles tight.
Sam jerked beneath him. I-I’ll do any-anything! Just d-don’t… “No,” she whispered. The truth. That bastard hadn’t been interested in sex. Just fear. “Let me up.”
“You’re crying,” Max told her, and his voice was… odd.
She couldn’t stop the tears. They just trickled down. Why couldn’t she be like Monica? Monica would never cry. She’d look at the killers, she’d rip them apart, and then she’d go right about her business.
Max released her wrists, and his callused fingertips brushed away her tears. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs.
Slowly, he rose off her and stood. Max reached a hand down for her, and she took it, noticing the tremble in her own fingers. “After the drop-off, a new agent will be assigned to your case.” The words were wooden but she just had nothing left right then. She stood on legs that felt too weak. “I-I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did.”
She exhaled and realized that he still he held her hand. “I’ll report the incident immediately and…” And what? What would she do?
“I was a dick,” Max said, and her gaze snapped up to snag his. “I was furious, and I struck out first.” He inclined his head toward her. “There’s nothing to report.”
She’d attacked him. In her book, that counted as something.
“You didn’t hurt me, baby, and something tells me, if an FBI agent really wanted to take someone down, she could.”
A bitter laugh slipped from her lips. “Maybe she couldn’t.” Because she hadn’t been able to get away before. And she sure hadn’t been smart enough to see the devil coming for her.
Her gaze dropped again.
“Look at me.”
But she didn’t want to. She saw herself reflected in his eyes, and she couldn’t stand that image. Sam pulled her hand away. She grabbed her purse and kept her back straight as she headed for the door.
“I killed him.” His confession fell heavily into the room.
She didn’t look back.
“I picked up that bat and I swung, and Dean went down, and there was blood all over the floor.”
Won’t look back. The door was close. Just a few more feet.
“Before I swung, I told him to get away from her. I told that bastard to stop hurting her, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Her fingers flipped the lock.
“She was bruised and bloody and begging him to stop.”
Her hand curled over the doorknob. Hesitated. Sam looked back. His stare pinned her.
“I wasn’t going to let that bastard rape my mother,” Max said, “so I took the bat I’d brought home from baseball practice, and I swung.” Echoes of fury and pain slipped into his voice. “One hit and he went down, and he didn’t get up again.”
Fourteen.
“They locked me up.” His shoulders straightened. “I did my time, and when I was eighteen, they pulled me up in front of a roomful of folks and asked me if I was sorry I’d killed John Dean.” The strained half-smile that tilted his lips was a touch cruel, a touch cold. “I told them ‘hell, no.’ You see, Samantha, if I had the chance, I’d do it again. I’d take that swing, and I wouldn’t hesitate.” He shrugged. “That’s who I am.”
Not perfect. Dark. Dangerous.
“But I want to know,” the faint lines near his eyes seemed to deepen, “just who are you?”
I don’t know. Sad and true. “I-I have to…” Run. She swiped a hand over her cheeks and felt the wet stains from her tears. “I need to finish checking the other computers here. There’s not much time left.” Sam turned away from him. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him you don’t think he’s like the perps you chase.
Say something. The order was a scream in her head, but this time, the words didn’t come out. She opened the door and walked away.
“You can’t run forever,” his whisper followed her, and she knew he was right.
CHAPTER Seven
I have something of yours, Mr. Warrant.” The kidnapper glanced at the watch on his wrist. The lamp light shone down on him, letting him see perfectly. One-thirteen a.m. They’d taken Warrant’s son two hours before, right in front of the cops who’d been stationed in The Core. Thanks to his inside man at the club, he’d known all about the cops… and how to avoid them.
Getting his guy hired at The Core had been a stroke of luck. No more hunting down the prey they wanted. Now, well, he just waited for the fools to come looking for him. When they came in The Core, his man gave him a call.
Then playtime started… as Adam had found out.
Adam. Dumbass Adam. Since Adam had left willingly—just like all the others—the cops hadn’t noticed a thing out of the ordinary.
“Wh-what?” Warrant’s voice was groggy, but then, that figured. He’d awakened Slayton Warrant from his mistress’s bed.
The same routine. The old bastards were so predictable. It made the game so easy. “I have Adam,” he told the guy, keeping his voice a whisper, “and if you don’t pay, I’ll send him back to you in pieces.” That always got their attention.
“What? Who the f**k is this?”
Now Slayton was awake. Good. “I’m the man who has dear dumbass Adam, and I’m the man who’ll kill him if you cross me.” He began to walk. The street was deserted, always was, but he knew better than to stay in the light too long.
“This is crap. You don’t have—”
No one ever believed what they were told. Sad. Why were the folks in this world so untrusting? “I can send you proof.” He rather liked that part now. And it would only be fair. If he was doing a favor for one family, he should provide the same courtesy to them all.
“Adam’s at school! He’s not—”
“He was at The Core, drinking like a good frat boy.” The cops and the FBI agents would face hell in the papers after this one. Took him while you watched. Adam had been so eager for a piece of ass, there’d been no need to drug him. When the sexy blonde had left, Adam had gone racing after her, alone. His mistake.
“I’ve got Adam,” he said, “and he’s tied up and begging for his life.” Or Adam would be begging, if he didn’t have duct tape over his mouth.
“No, you’re lying, you—”
“How much is he worth to you?” He cut across the yell. “You’d better figure it out, old man, and figure it out fast.” Adam would be his last mark. He’d have enough money then—they’d have enough money—to get the hell out of that area. No, out of the country. That was supposed to be the plan, right? And everyone on his team knew the plan.
Silence hummed on the phone.
“You go to the cops, I’ll start cutting and your boy will die.” He gave warnings, so it wasn’t like the deaths were his fault. If people couldn’t follow simple instructions… well, they hurt themselves—and the ones they loved.
“Wh-what should I do?” Slayton asked, the fear breaking his voice.
“Wait for my call, and start getting your money ready.” He disconnected and grinned down at the phone. So easy. He strolled over the bridge ahead, hunching his shoulders against the cold swipe of the wind. When he was dead center on the bridge, he tossed the cell into the murky water and never stopped walking.
Her shoulders hunched. “Quinlan?” She’d wondered about that. Two of the other kidnapped men had been arrested for drug possession.
“No, Max.”
She blinked. “You sure?”
“Samantha?” Max questioned. The thick carpet muffled his steps “Who is it? What’s going on?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Had Luke heard Max’s voice? She shook her head but kept her eyes on his.
“He killed a man,” Luke told her. “Do you hear me? He killed a man.”
Her lips felt numb so it was hard to ask. “When?”
“Hell… years ago. He was fourteen. Ridgeway used a bat to hit some guy named John Dean. The courts tried Ridgeway as a minor, and he got kicked out of the system when he was eighteen. Then when his mom hooked up with Malone, well, some judge magically sealed his files.”
But the SSD knew how to unseal any file.
“Watch your ass with him, got me?” Luke pressed.
Max’s blue gaze bored into her.
“And Beth Dunlap isn’t who she says, either,” Luke continued. “Her real name’s Kailey Elizabeth Gentry. She was busted for soliciting when she was eighteen.”
No one was ever who they seemed to be. Not even me.
Her breath choked out.
“Samantha?” Max’s brows shot up. “What is it?” Worry darkened his eyes. “Is it Quinlan? Has something happened to him?”
She shook her head.
“He’s there,” Luke growled in her ear.
Yes, Max stood right in front of her now and crowded her against the wall. She still had her weapon, but it was in the purse on the desk and no use to her.
You don’t need a weapon. He hasn’t hurt you. He’s not even touching you.
Luke’s sigh carried easily over the phone. “Stay on guard, every minute. Don’t trust this guy. Don’t trust anyone there.”
Once upon a time, trust had come easily for her. Those days were gone. She didn’t need Luke’s warning.
Screwing a killer. Is that how messed up her life had become?
She’d thought Max was the toughest-looking guy in the bar. The strongest. The sexiest.
But had there been more? Had she been drawn to him because he was dark inside? Dark, just like she was?
Her stomach clenched. “I can take care of myself,” she told Luke.
“If you need me, you call me,” Luke ordered. “Fuck the case. Call me.”
Sam pressed the screen and ended the call.
Max reached for her, and she flinched—an instinctive reaction.
His expression hardened. “You know.” A wealth of understanding and a simmer of rage filled the simple words.
Then Max stepped even closer, and her back rammed against the wall.
Be strong. Don’t do this. Stop backing down.
“Guess that was your Special Agent on the phone.” Max’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “And let me guess; he’s been digging around in my past.”
“I-it’s procedure.” It was. “Family members and close acquaintances always have to be-be investigated.” Killer.
Max? No, he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He’d held her when she woke up screaming in the night.
His hands rose and trapped her against the wall. “Big tough agent,” he murmured. “But you’re so scared right now, you’re shaking.” His eyes held hers. “Does it make you afraid, knowing how close you are to a killer?”
“St-stop it.”
His lips grazed her jaw. “You said killers all belong in cages, right? But you let me touch you. Let me taste every part of you.”
She brought her hands up and pressed them against his chest. He didn’t move.
“You had sex with a killer,” Max continued.
Sam shoved him back. “Get away from me!” The order came as nearly a scream when it should have been a controlled order. But she was shattering from the inside out. Max didn’t know, couldn’t know. Her secrets were hers. No one had dug them up.
“You wanted me closer before.” How could blue eyes look so dark? “You all but begged me to get closer.”
She attacked. Her hands balled into fists. Sam slammed her shoulder into his mid-section even as she struck out with her right hand. Take him down. Take him out.
They crashed to the floor. Max grunted at the impact and his hands came up.
Fight back, fight—
He grabbed her wrists, rolled and twisted so that she was under him. Sam head-butted him and bucked, kicking out with her feet. No, not done yet, not out. She was strong. Stronger.
“You won’t hurt me anymore!” The words burst from her as the past tangled with the present. “I won’t beg. I won’t—”
“Shit, Samantha, for Christ’s sake, stop!”
A fist pounded on the door. “What the hell is happening in there?” Frank roared.
The doorknob rattled. She’d locked the door automatically to secure the room.
Max’s breath panted out as he stared down at her. No fury glittered in his gaze. Worry. A touch of fear. For her.
Broken. Oh, no, oh God, no—if Hyde found out what she’d just done—
“We’re fine,” Max yelled, but his hold on her didn’t loosen. “Just leave us alone!”
She could feel Frank’s hesitation, but after a few beats of silence, she heard the thuds of his fading footsteps.
Her eyes squeezed shut, and her head fell back against the carpet. What had she done? And why?
“You’re not what you pretend to be,” Max said, voice rumbling as the fingers holding her began to stroke her in long, slow glides. Trying to soothe. “You’re not the tough agent, are you?”
She wanted to be.
He lowered her hands to the carpet, but kept his caressing hold. “Someone hurt you,” he said with certainty and, finally, with the anger that she’d expected.
Her lashes lifted. “Let me go.” They’d make it through tonight. Somehow, some way, they’d make it through. After the exchange tomorrow, she’d tell Hyde what happened. She couldn’t protect Max—not when she was the one attacking him.
And Hyde would see that he’d been right. She shouldn’t be back on duty. She wasn’t ready. Not even close.
“Were you raped?” he asked with his body flush against hers, strong muscles tight.
Sam jerked beneath him. I-I’ll do any-anything! Just d-don’t… “No,” she whispered. The truth. That bastard hadn’t been interested in sex. Just fear. “Let me up.”
“You’re crying,” Max told her, and his voice was… odd.
She couldn’t stop the tears. They just trickled down. Why couldn’t she be like Monica? Monica would never cry. She’d look at the killers, she’d rip them apart, and then she’d go right about her business.
Max released her wrists, and his callused fingertips brushed away her tears. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs.
Slowly, he rose off her and stood. Max reached a hand down for her, and she took it, noticing the tremble in her own fingers. “After the drop-off, a new agent will be assigned to your case.” The words were wooden but she just had nothing left right then. She stood on legs that felt too weak. “I-I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did.”
She exhaled and realized that he still he held her hand. “I’ll report the incident immediately and…” And what? What would she do?
“I was a dick,” Max said, and her gaze snapped up to snag his. “I was furious, and I struck out first.” He inclined his head toward her. “There’s nothing to report.”
She’d attacked him. In her book, that counted as something.
“You didn’t hurt me, baby, and something tells me, if an FBI agent really wanted to take someone down, she could.”
A bitter laugh slipped from her lips. “Maybe she couldn’t.” Because she hadn’t been able to get away before. And she sure hadn’t been smart enough to see the devil coming for her.
Her gaze dropped again.
“Look at me.”
But she didn’t want to. She saw herself reflected in his eyes, and she couldn’t stand that image. Sam pulled her hand away. She grabbed her purse and kept her back straight as she headed for the door.
“I killed him.” His confession fell heavily into the room.
She didn’t look back.
“I picked up that bat and I swung, and Dean went down, and there was blood all over the floor.”
Won’t look back. The door was close. Just a few more feet.
“Before I swung, I told him to get away from her. I told that bastard to stop hurting her, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Her fingers flipped the lock.
“She was bruised and bloody and begging him to stop.”
Her hand curled over the doorknob. Hesitated. Sam looked back. His stare pinned her.
“I wasn’t going to let that bastard rape my mother,” Max said, “so I took the bat I’d brought home from baseball practice, and I swung.” Echoes of fury and pain slipped into his voice. “One hit and he went down, and he didn’t get up again.”
Fourteen.
“They locked me up.” His shoulders straightened. “I did my time, and when I was eighteen, they pulled me up in front of a roomful of folks and asked me if I was sorry I’d killed John Dean.” The strained half-smile that tilted his lips was a touch cruel, a touch cold. “I told them ‘hell, no.’ You see, Samantha, if I had the chance, I’d do it again. I’d take that swing, and I wouldn’t hesitate.” He shrugged. “That’s who I am.”
Not perfect. Dark. Dangerous.
“But I want to know,” the faint lines near his eyes seemed to deepen, “just who are you?”
I don’t know. Sad and true. “I-I have to…” Run. She swiped a hand over her cheeks and felt the wet stains from her tears. “I need to finish checking the other computers here. There’s not much time left.” Sam turned away from him. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him you don’t think he’s like the perps you chase.
Say something. The order was a scream in her head, but this time, the words didn’t come out. She opened the door and walked away.
“You can’t run forever,” his whisper followed her, and she knew he was right.
CHAPTER Seven
I have something of yours, Mr. Warrant.” The kidnapper glanced at the watch on his wrist. The lamp light shone down on him, letting him see perfectly. One-thirteen a.m. They’d taken Warrant’s son two hours before, right in front of the cops who’d been stationed in The Core. Thanks to his inside man at the club, he’d known all about the cops… and how to avoid them.
Getting his guy hired at The Core had been a stroke of luck. No more hunting down the prey they wanted. Now, well, he just waited for the fools to come looking for him. When they came in The Core, his man gave him a call.
Then playtime started… as Adam had found out.
Adam. Dumbass Adam. Since Adam had left willingly—just like all the others—the cops hadn’t noticed a thing out of the ordinary.
“Wh-what?” Warrant’s voice was groggy, but then, that figured. He’d awakened Slayton Warrant from his mistress’s bed.
The same routine. The old bastards were so predictable. It made the game so easy. “I have Adam,” he told the guy, keeping his voice a whisper, “and if you don’t pay, I’ll send him back to you in pieces.” That always got their attention.
“What? Who the f**k is this?”
Now Slayton was awake. Good. “I’m the man who has dear dumbass Adam, and I’m the man who’ll kill him if you cross me.” He began to walk. The street was deserted, always was, but he knew better than to stay in the light too long.
“This is crap. You don’t have—”
No one ever believed what they were told. Sad. Why were the folks in this world so untrusting? “I can send you proof.” He rather liked that part now. And it would only be fair. If he was doing a favor for one family, he should provide the same courtesy to them all.
“Adam’s at school! He’s not—”
“He was at The Core, drinking like a good frat boy.” The cops and the FBI agents would face hell in the papers after this one. Took him while you watched. Adam had been so eager for a piece of ass, there’d been no need to drug him. When the sexy blonde had left, Adam had gone racing after her, alone. His mistake.
“I’ve got Adam,” he said, “and he’s tied up and begging for his life.” Or Adam would be begging, if he didn’t have duct tape over his mouth.
“No, you’re lying, you—”
“How much is he worth to you?” He cut across the yell. “You’d better figure it out, old man, and figure it out fast.” Adam would be his last mark. He’d have enough money then—they’d have enough money—to get the hell out of that area. No, out of the country. That was supposed to be the plan, right? And everyone on his team knew the plan.
Silence hummed on the phone.
“You go to the cops, I’ll start cutting and your boy will die.” He gave warnings, so it wasn’t like the deaths were his fault. If people couldn’t follow simple instructions… well, they hurt themselves—and the ones they loved.
“Wh-what should I do?” Slayton asked, the fear breaking his voice.
“Wait for my call, and start getting your money ready.” He disconnected and grinned down at the phone. So easy. He strolled over the bridge ahead, hunching his shoulders against the cold swipe of the wind. When he was dead center on the bridge, he tossed the cell into the murky water and never stopped walking.
