White. The ceiling above him was white. The walls were white. The blinds—white. His arms jerked and something burned along his right hand.
His gaze flew over and found an IV. What the hell?
“It’s okay,” Samantha’s voice. Samantha’s hand touching his. His eyes met hers.
“Why the hell…” His voice rasped, “am I in a hospital?” He’d tried to remember, but everything seemed so foggy. He’d been at his place. He’d been pacing, waiting, and then—
Nothing.
Her eyes searched his. “You don’t remember?”
“No, I don’t.” He turned his hand, caught her fingers with his, and held on tight. “Baby, tell me what’s going on.” The words came slow and rumbled out of his dry throat.
Instead of speaking, she leaned forward and kissed him. Samantha pressed her sweet mouth over his and dipped her tongue past his lips.
He might have been in a hospital bed, but his body sure seemed to be in good shape. One part was very excited. His arms wrapped around her. Max ignored the burn of the IV. One kiss, one taste, and the hunger flared bright.
Fuck the hospital, it was a bed, they could—
Her mouth pulled away from his. A growl built in his throat. “Not fair to start what you aren’t finishing.”
That stopped her. Samantha blinked at him. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him, and he realized that she had on glasses. Small, sexy glasses that made her eyes look even darker.
“Don’t worry, I plan to finish.” Her palm slid down his cheek, and her fingers scraped over the stubble. “Once you’re out of here, you’re mine, Ridgeway.”
Promises. He yanked the IV out of his arm.
“Max! You can’t—”
“I feel fine.” He swung his legs over the bed.
“Trust me, you weren’t fine a few hours ago. You were dead to the world. You couldn’t talk. You didn’t know me—” She broke off and drew in a deep shuddering breath. “For a time there, you were gone, Max.”
Max saw the dark smudges under her eyes and finally noticed her rumpled clothes. “You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”
“All night.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you.”
“Samantha…” He stood, and she tilted her head back to stare up at him.
“When I found you,” she stopped, swallowed, “you weren’t moving. You were in your apartment, everything was dark, and, oh, damn, I was afraid I was too late.”
His fingers curled under her chin, and he bent down to kiss her. A deep, open-mouthed kiss. A kiss to tell her that, hell, yeah, he was alive; she wasn’t too late. They weren’t too late. The need had his body tightening. A dull ache thudded behind his temples but he ignored it. Nothing would have made him release her then.
Nothing.
He drew her closer against him. Not like he could hide the arousal he felt in that paper-thin hospital gown, and not like he wanted to try either. When she was near, he wanted.
His hands settled against her hips, and his fingers touched the soft swell of her ass. He loved her ass. Loved touching her. Being with her.
She stayed with me all night.
When was the last time anyone had done that for him? When was the last time anyone had cared?
“Max…” She turned her head away. He pressed a kiss to her throat and heard the sigh of her breath. “Max, Nathan Donnelley is missing.”
“Donnelley?” His hold on her tightened as he struggled to remember. “I… called him. Wanted him to come and see about Quinlan.” Because his brother hadn’t wanted to get checked out at the hospital. Quinlan’s wounds had started to bleed again, and he’d been worried, and—
Nothing.
“The doorman remembers Donnelley coming up to your place, and video footage showed him sneaking out.” Her voice seemed strained. “He took the stairs out, used the service exit.”
“Why?”
“Because it looks like he drugged you.” Her brown eyes glinted with a steady fury. “His fingerprints were on the glasses in the den, and one of those glasses had trace amounts of Rohypnol in it.”
His brows shot together. “Roofies? The bastard gave me roofies?”
“Only your prints and his were on the glass. We matched Donnelley’s because he was in the system from his time in the military.”
Samantha handed him a bag, one with fresh clothes inside. His clothes. Another agent must have brought them from his place.
“The SSD believes all of the victims were slipped drugs, possibly roofies, by their abductors.”
He dressed quickly as he tugged on the jeans and shirt. “You’re saying,” he spun back to face her after he shoved on his socks and shoes, “what? That Donnelley was involved in the kidnappings? In Quinlan’s kidnapping?”
Her gaze never faltered. “You tell me. The man drugged you, he’s missing, and yesterday, he emptied out his bank accounts.”
That bastard had been with his family for years. “He-he treated my mom. He-he found her… She’d taken too many pills…” Donnelley had been grief-stricken. Tears had coursed down the guy’s face. Tears. And now the guy was screwing them all?
“Quinlan’s missing, too.”
That froze him.
“Hyde personally checked the videos. There was no sign of him leaving your building.”
“He didn’t just vanish!”
“No.” Her shoulders squared. “But I saw the position of those cameras, and if you wanted to get away without being seen, you’d just have to carefully time your movements.”
His breath rushed out.
“You said you called Donnelley to come and take care of Quinlan. Did the two of them talk alone?” she asked.
The throbbing in his temples got worse.
“Did they, Max?”
“I can’t remember.” Oh, but he wanted to remember.
“I was coming to your place, and the reason I was there…” Her hands balled into fists. “Beth Dunlap didn’t commit suicide. The ME said that both of her wrists were cut so deeply that the tendons were severed. She would’ve had no control over her fingers. That means she wouldn’t have been able to hold the knife, much less manage to slice her other wrist open.”
Someone else had slashed her.
“The room was staged to make it look like she’d gone crazy, wrecked the place, and then killed herself. But the wounds don’t match with that scenario, and the techs found drops of her blood in the hallway.”
No. He knew where this was going.
“The splatter angle indicates she was standing up, maybe trying to flee.”
And someone had dragged her back into that room and killed her.
“Your brother was at the scene when we arrived.”
His eyes closed for a moment.
“Max, your stepbrother told us that he’d just arrived back at the house, but two men from the bomb squad swear that when they checked out his car…”
Max opened his eyes and stared at her.
“His hood wasn’t warm. If he’d just arrived, it would still have been hot.”
Dammit.
“When Frank died,” she continued, “Quinlan stood to gain a fortune.”
Max shook his head. No, no, there had to be another explanation. All those other men, the wounds on Quinlan’s body… “He was cut, slashed all over. His hand—”
“Sometimes, you’ll do anything if the end reward is important enough.” She gazed into his eyes, and a soft sigh escaped her. “There’s something else you should know. We found unidentified blood in the alley where Veronica James was killed.”
“And you think it’s Quinlan’s.”
The faintest of nods. “Your brother refused to give us a DNA sample when he was in the FBI office.”
Quinlan’s words seemed to echo in his head. What’s it like to kill a man? It was sure starting to look like little brother already knew.
“We have an APB out for him now, and for Donnelley. Until we find them,” she exhaled, “you’re under 24–7 FBI protection. You and the surviving victim, Curtis Weatherly.”
“You really think they’re going to come after me?” They—who were they? Some nameless a**holes? Or his brother and Donnelley?
“I think we got lucky at your place. And I think we need to be ready for anything.”
Guess “anything” included his stepbrother trying to kill him.
• • •
“Thanks for working with us on this one Lake,” Hyde said, staring at the agent who’d left his job at the SSD just weeks before. Even before Kenton had turned in his request for a transfer, Hyde had known what the man planned. Kenton’s heart hadn’t been with the SSD any longer.
Special Agent Kenton Lake inclined his head toward Hyde. “Don’t think I had a real choice.”
Hyde let a brief lift curve his lips. “You didn’t.”
“Figured as much.” Kenton paused. “What else do you need?” Kenton had already talked to the press more than a few times over the last couple of days.
“We’ve got a press conference scheduled in two hours. I need you to satisfy the reporters and keep them out of my way.”
Kenton nodded. Hyde knew he had been thoroughly reviewing the case files. “You got a suspect?” Kenton asked.
“Two.” He tossed him the files.
Kenton whistled when he saw the names. “You want me to say this on the air?”
“I want you to let the bastards know we’re coming. Label them as people of interest, not suspects.” Hyde knew how to play the game. He’d been doing it for years.
“People that should be approached with extreme caution, right?” Kenton asked.
Hyde nodded. “And we could use another man in the field on this one. Sam… she’s protecting a witness.” He saw the surprise on Kenton’s face.
Kenton closed the files. “Then she’s back to full duty?”
Hyde remembered the fierce glint that he’d seen in Sam’s eyes last night. He wouldn’t have been able to drag her away from Ridgeway. Finally, that spine of steel. He’d been waiting for it to show. “She’s back.” And stronger than he’d ever seen her before.
“Talk to Monica. Get her to brief you on the profile she’s worked up on the two suspects,” he told Kenton, because they were suspects. Not damn “persons of interest.” Sometimes covering your ass could be such a pain.
“Yes, sir.”
Hyde hesitated. “And I hear… congratulations are in order.”
A wide smile split Kenton’s face. “They are.”
“You work fast.” The guy hadn’t been married long, but… “You’ll be a good father.”
“Sir, I’m scared as all hell.”
That brought a laugh from Hyde. “You should be.”
Kenton rose. “That’s not really what I was hoping to hear.” But a grin softened his face as he hurried off to find Monica.
Hyde’s gaze slipped to the frame on his desk. Such a beautiful smile there. One he only saw in pictures now. In memories that faded too fast. “You should be,” he whispered again, the laughter gone.
Because Kenton knew, like he did, that there was evil in the world. Evil that waited to steal away the light and the moments of joy.
Hyde’s fingers slid over the edge of the frame. They hadn’t found Heather’s body, and he knew they never would. His daughter would never be coming home.
Sam took Max to her place. Techs were still working at his apartment as they searched for evidence.
Two guards were stationed at her door—agents from the Violent Crimes Division who’d been sent over as backup. She knew a similar team was watching Weatherly. Ramirez had been relieved, and he was back to following leads on Donnelley.
The door shut behind them with a soft click. Sam cleared her throat. “You can make yourself at home.” Max hadn’t spoken on the ride over, just seemed lost in thought. “I’ve got plenty of food in the fridge, so I can make some lunch….”
“I’m not hungry for food.”
She put her gun on the table and met his gaze. “Max.”
He shook his head. “Everything’s gone to hell, hasn’t it?”
Yes.
“Quinlan’s not answering his cell; the cops can’t find him.” He shook his head. “It’s a waiting game, and it’s driving me crazy.”
The waiting was hell, but what was coming—it would be even worse. She took off her coat then walked toward him.
But his scorching look froze her mid-stride. “I’m not in an easy mood, baby,” he warned.
Had she asked for easy? Ever?
“I need you,” Max said gruffly, “so damn bad, but—”
She kept walking. When she reached him, Sam put her fingers against his lips. “I need you, too.” More than she could say. Sam was desperate for him. She needed to feel him against her, in her, needed to be certain he was safe. Alive.
Hers again.
Because that was how she thought of him. Mine.
Her hands went to the top of his jeans. His eyes never left her face. She caught the button, popped it free, and lowered his zipper with a soft hiss.
“Samantha…”
His c*ck spilled into her hand. Long, thick, and heavy with arousal. Her fingers wrapped around him, then squeezed tight. She worked his flesh, one long, hard pump, from base to tip.
So warm and hard.
His gaze flew over and found an IV. What the hell?
“It’s okay,” Samantha’s voice. Samantha’s hand touching his. His eyes met hers.
“Why the hell…” His voice rasped, “am I in a hospital?” He’d tried to remember, but everything seemed so foggy. He’d been at his place. He’d been pacing, waiting, and then—
Nothing.
Her eyes searched his. “You don’t remember?”
“No, I don’t.” He turned his hand, caught her fingers with his, and held on tight. “Baby, tell me what’s going on.” The words came slow and rumbled out of his dry throat.
Instead of speaking, she leaned forward and kissed him. Samantha pressed her sweet mouth over his and dipped her tongue past his lips.
He might have been in a hospital bed, but his body sure seemed to be in good shape. One part was very excited. His arms wrapped around her. Max ignored the burn of the IV. One kiss, one taste, and the hunger flared bright.
Fuck the hospital, it was a bed, they could—
Her mouth pulled away from his. A growl built in his throat. “Not fair to start what you aren’t finishing.”
That stopped her. Samantha blinked at him. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him, and he realized that she had on glasses. Small, sexy glasses that made her eyes look even darker.
“Don’t worry, I plan to finish.” Her palm slid down his cheek, and her fingers scraped over the stubble. “Once you’re out of here, you’re mine, Ridgeway.”
Promises. He yanked the IV out of his arm.
“Max! You can’t—”
“I feel fine.” He swung his legs over the bed.
“Trust me, you weren’t fine a few hours ago. You were dead to the world. You couldn’t talk. You didn’t know me—” She broke off and drew in a deep shuddering breath. “For a time there, you were gone, Max.”
Max saw the dark smudges under her eyes and finally noticed her rumpled clothes. “You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”
“All night.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t leave you.”
“Samantha…” He stood, and she tilted her head back to stare up at him.
“When I found you,” she stopped, swallowed, “you weren’t moving. You were in your apartment, everything was dark, and, oh, damn, I was afraid I was too late.”
His fingers curled under her chin, and he bent down to kiss her. A deep, open-mouthed kiss. A kiss to tell her that, hell, yeah, he was alive; she wasn’t too late. They weren’t too late. The need had his body tightening. A dull ache thudded behind his temples but he ignored it. Nothing would have made him release her then.
Nothing.
He drew her closer against him. Not like he could hide the arousal he felt in that paper-thin hospital gown, and not like he wanted to try either. When she was near, he wanted.
His hands settled against her hips, and his fingers touched the soft swell of her ass. He loved her ass. Loved touching her. Being with her.
She stayed with me all night.
When was the last time anyone had done that for him? When was the last time anyone had cared?
“Max…” She turned her head away. He pressed a kiss to her throat and heard the sigh of her breath. “Max, Nathan Donnelley is missing.”
“Donnelley?” His hold on her tightened as he struggled to remember. “I… called him. Wanted him to come and see about Quinlan.” Because his brother hadn’t wanted to get checked out at the hospital. Quinlan’s wounds had started to bleed again, and he’d been worried, and—
Nothing.
“The doorman remembers Donnelley coming up to your place, and video footage showed him sneaking out.” Her voice seemed strained. “He took the stairs out, used the service exit.”
“Why?”
“Because it looks like he drugged you.” Her brown eyes glinted with a steady fury. “His fingerprints were on the glasses in the den, and one of those glasses had trace amounts of Rohypnol in it.”
His brows shot together. “Roofies? The bastard gave me roofies?”
“Only your prints and his were on the glass. We matched Donnelley’s because he was in the system from his time in the military.”
Samantha handed him a bag, one with fresh clothes inside. His clothes. Another agent must have brought them from his place.
“The SSD believes all of the victims were slipped drugs, possibly roofies, by their abductors.”
He dressed quickly as he tugged on the jeans and shirt. “You’re saying,” he spun back to face her after he shoved on his socks and shoes, “what? That Donnelley was involved in the kidnappings? In Quinlan’s kidnapping?”
Her gaze never faltered. “You tell me. The man drugged you, he’s missing, and yesterday, he emptied out his bank accounts.”
That bastard had been with his family for years. “He-he treated my mom. He-he found her… She’d taken too many pills…” Donnelley had been grief-stricken. Tears had coursed down the guy’s face. Tears. And now the guy was screwing them all?
“Quinlan’s missing, too.”
That froze him.
“Hyde personally checked the videos. There was no sign of him leaving your building.”
“He didn’t just vanish!”
“No.” Her shoulders squared. “But I saw the position of those cameras, and if you wanted to get away without being seen, you’d just have to carefully time your movements.”
His breath rushed out.
“You said you called Donnelley to come and take care of Quinlan. Did the two of them talk alone?” she asked.
The throbbing in his temples got worse.
“Did they, Max?”
“I can’t remember.” Oh, but he wanted to remember.
“I was coming to your place, and the reason I was there…” Her hands balled into fists. “Beth Dunlap didn’t commit suicide. The ME said that both of her wrists were cut so deeply that the tendons were severed. She would’ve had no control over her fingers. That means she wouldn’t have been able to hold the knife, much less manage to slice her other wrist open.”
Someone else had slashed her.
“The room was staged to make it look like she’d gone crazy, wrecked the place, and then killed herself. But the wounds don’t match with that scenario, and the techs found drops of her blood in the hallway.”
No. He knew where this was going.
“The splatter angle indicates she was standing up, maybe trying to flee.”
And someone had dragged her back into that room and killed her.
“Your brother was at the scene when we arrived.”
His eyes closed for a moment.
“Max, your stepbrother told us that he’d just arrived back at the house, but two men from the bomb squad swear that when they checked out his car…”
Max opened his eyes and stared at her.
“His hood wasn’t warm. If he’d just arrived, it would still have been hot.”
Dammit.
“When Frank died,” she continued, “Quinlan stood to gain a fortune.”
Max shook his head. No, no, there had to be another explanation. All those other men, the wounds on Quinlan’s body… “He was cut, slashed all over. His hand—”
“Sometimes, you’ll do anything if the end reward is important enough.” She gazed into his eyes, and a soft sigh escaped her. “There’s something else you should know. We found unidentified blood in the alley where Veronica James was killed.”
“And you think it’s Quinlan’s.”
The faintest of nods. “Your brother refused to give us a DNA sample when he was in the FBI office.”
Quinlan’s words seemed to echo in his head. What’s it like to kill a man? It was sure starting to look like little brother already knew.
“We have an APB out for him now, and for Donnelley. Until we find them,” she exhaled, “you’re under 24–7 FBI protection. You and the surviving victim, Curtis Weatherly.”
“You really think they’re going to come after me?” They—who were they? Some nameless a**holes? Or his brother and Donnelley?
“I think we got lucky at your place. And I think we need to be ready for anything.”
Guess “anything” included his stepbrother trying to kill him.
• • •
“Thanks for working with us on this one Lake,” Hyde said, staring at the agent who’d left his job at the SSD just weeks before. Even before Kenton had turned in his request for a transfer, Hyde had known what the man planned. Kenton’s heart hadn’t been with the SSD any longer.
Special Agent Kenton Lake inclined his head toward Hyde. “Don’t think I had a real choice.”
Hyde let a brief lift curve his lips. “You didn’t.”
“Figured as much.” Kenton paused. “What else do you need?” Kenton had already talked to the press more than a few times over the last couple of days.
“We’ve got a press conference scheduled in two hours. I need you to satisfy the reporters and keep them out of my way.”
Kenton nodded. Hyde knew he had been thoroughly reviewing the case files. “You got a suspect?” Kenton asked.
“Two.” He tossed him the files.
Kenton whistled when he saw the names. “You want me to say this on the air?”
“I want you to let the bastards know we’re coming. Label them as people of interest, not suspects.” Hyde knew how to play the game. He’d been doing it for years.
“People that should be approached with extreme caution, right?” Kenton asked.
Hyde nodded. “And we could use another man in the field on this one. Sam… she’s protecting a witness.” He saw the surprise on Kenton’s face.
Kenton closed the files. “Then she’s back to full duty?”
Hyde remembered the fierce glint that he’d seen in Sam’s eyes last night. He wouldn’t have been able to drag her away from Ridgeway. Finally, that spine of steel. He’d been waiting for it to show. “She’s back.” And stronger than he’d ever seen her before.
“Talk to Monica. Get her to brief you on the profile she’s worked up on the two suspects,” he told Kenton, because they were suspects. Not damn “persons of interest.” Sometimes covering your ass could be such a pain.
“Yes, sir.”
Hyde hesitated. “And I hear… congratulations are in order.”
A wide smile split Kenton’s face. “They are.”
“You work fast.” The guy hadn’t been married long, but… “You’ll be a good father.”
“Sir, I’m scared as all hell.”
That brought a laugh from Hyde. “You should be.”
Kenton rose. “That’s not really what I was hoping to hear.” But a grin softened his face as he hurried off to find Monica.
Hyde’s gaze slipped to the frame on his desk. Such a beautiful smile there. One he only saw in pictures now. In memories that faded too fast. “You should be,” he whispered again, the laughter gone.
Because Kenton knew, like he did, that there was evil in the world. Evil that waited to steal away the light and the moments of joy.
Hyde’s fingers slid over the edge of the frame. They hadn’t found Heather’s body, and he knew they never would. His daughter would never be coming home.
Sam took Max to her place. Techs were still working at his apartment as they searched for evidence.
Two guards were stationed at her door—agents from the Violent Crimes Division who’d been sent over as backup. She knew a similar team was watching Weatherly. Ramirez had been relieved, and he was back to following leads on Donnelley.
The door shut behind them with a soft click. Sam cleared her throat. “You can make yourself at home.” Max hadn’t spoken on the ride over, just seemed lost in thought. “I’ve got plenty of food in the fridge, so I can make some lunch….”
“I’m not hungry for food.”
She put her gun on the table and met his gaze. “Max.”
He shook his head. “Everything’s gone to hell, hasn’t it?”
Yes.
“Quinlan’s not answering his cell; the cops can’t find him.” He shook his head. “It’s a waiting game, and it’s driving me crazy.”
The waiting was hell, but what was coming—it would be even worse. She took off her coat then walked toward him.
But his scorching look froze her mid-stride. “I’m not in an easy mood, baby,” he warned.
Had she asked for easy? Ever?
“I need you,” Max said gruffly, “so damn bad, but—”
She kept walking. When she reached him, Sam put her fingers against his lips. “I need you, too.” More than she could say. Sam was desperate for him. She needed to feel him against her, in her, needed to be certain he was safe. Alive.
Hers again.
Because that was how she thought of him. Mine.
Her hands went to the top of his jeans. His eyes never left her face. She caught the button, popped it free, and lowered his zipper with a soft hiss.
“Samantha…”
His c*ck spilled into her hand. Long, thick, and heavy with arousal. Her fingers wrapped around him, then squeezed tight. She worked his flesh, one long, hard pump, from base to tip.
So warm and hard.
