Deadly Lies
Page 2
Sam didn’t want a mate. She just wanted a screw. Hot sex. Hard and wild. And she knew the perfect man to give her everything she needed.
Her perfect man stood across the room from her, separated by the crush of bodies. The party was too hot and too noisy by far with the fake laughter and high voices and the people who were pretending to be interested in each other.
Pretending. She was so sick of pretending.
Sam snagged a drink off a waiter’s tray. She downed the champagne in two gulps and pushed her way toward her target.
He’d know who she was. Sam didn’t doubt that. Well, he’d better know.
They’d had sex two weeks ago. Sex that had left her sore and aching and satisfied. Satisfied—for a time.
Until she’d wanted more.
She really hoped that the guy remembered her.
She sure remembered him.
Max Ridgeway. Tall, dark, and sexy. The man who’d made her come in two minutes. The man who’d made her scream.
The man who’d turned her on to casual sex.
Max was lover number three in her lifetime, not that he knew that. She’d been sure to play the game. After all, she could pretend, too. She’d acted cool and confident and made sure that she didn’t screw things up.
“You.” His voice, deep and rumbling, caught her, and she looked up to see him striding toward her.
Game face, girl. Get it on. Sam lifted her chin and let her lips curl into a smile that was as fake as all the others in the room. Forget. Forget everything but him.
Why try to pick up someone else when he was there? He’d be all she needed. He’d be…
Hot enough to banish the chill from her body.
Max caught her wrist and pulled her close. All around them, men stood in their perfect tuxedos and women smiled in their designer dresses. A high-end party. One packed with people who had too much money and too much alcohol.
His face—really not handsome, but sexy, so sexy—leaned in close to hers. At six foot three, Max was big and muscled with skin tanned a light brown. His midnight black hair curled just a little too long over the back of his collar.
The first time she’d seen him, she’d known that he would be the one for her. She’d gone into the bar, taken one look, and picked the strongest man in the place.
“You left without a damn word.”
Huh. Anger hummed in his words. She wet the lips that she’d carefully painted for tonight. Part of the mask. Normally, she didn’t give a damn about makeup.
She’d come to this party for one reason. Him. She wanted more.
“I’m here now.” She rose onto her toes and whispered the words close to his mouth.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Baby, your timing is shit.”
Sam almost smiled. Would have, if she’d been a different woman. Instead, she blinked at him, not just because she was trying to appear cool but because the contacts in her eyes were driving her crazy.
“I came to find you,” she told him and thought about kissing him. But no, not yet.
“And I f**king looked for you.”
Now she was surprised. She’d figured that the guy would just move on to the next woman on his list.
“Come with me.” His grip on her wrist was almost bruising. Almost, because Max knew his strength. When he started walking, shouldering through the crowd, she followed because she wanted out of there.
A few moments later, his left hand slammed against the glass door, sending it swinging open, and then they were outside on the balcony. The crisp air of late autumn cooled her body. Max kicked the door shut behind them and finally, finally, the noise was gone.
It was just them.
“When you approached me in the bar, you didn’t know who the hell I was, did you?” A lamp shone down on him and revealed the faint lines near his blue eyes. The light cast a dark shadow behind him, making him seem even bigger.
Anger had thickened in his voice. What, couldn’t the guy just enjoy the sex like she had? What was the big deal? Sam forced a shrug, letting one shoulder rise and fall. Max still had her wrist, and she could feel the rough calluses on his fingertips. Not born into money, not this man. And when she’d seen him the first night in that bar, wearing his faded jeans and beat-up jacket, she hadn’t thought—
“You ran when you woke up and realized just whose bed you were in.”
She hadn’t exactly been concentrating on her surroundings when he took her home. Sam had been busy yanking off his clothes. But with the harsh light of morning, she’d seen…
The picture of his stepfather on the mantle. A man she’d met before. A man her own mother had dated once upon a time.
“You just introduced yourself as Max.” Her voice came out husky. Not deliberate that. But his eyes—such a bright blue—narrowed, and she heard the rasp of his breath.
“And you’re Samantha,” he said.
First names—that was all you were supposed to need for casual sex, right? “I am.”
“What do you want from me?” he demanded as he trapped her against the brick wall to the right of the door. So warm, oh, his flesh seemed to burn hers. She could feel the thick length of his arousal pressing against the front of her dress. A short, skimpy dress that she’d found buried in the back of her closet.
“I want more.” The truth. She could give him that much.
A growl rumbled in his throat.
“I don’t care that you’re rich.” Yes, let’s just put that out there. She hadn’t run because of his money. Hadn’t gone to him for that and hadn’t run away because of it. She’d left because the night was over. “I don’t want forever.” The fake promises of happily-ever-after wouldn’t suit her.
His fingers freed her wrist and wrapped around her waist. “What do you want?”
My life back.
She pushed her hand between their bodies and let her fingers rest over his racing heart. “I told you…. more.” Sex. Passion.
Anything to hold back the shadows. Anything to let her pretend that she was normal. Not some freak. Not someone who couldn’t even do her job anymore.
A woman this man wanted.
His left hand slid down her body. His fingers pressed just below the bottom of her dress.
Her breath caught. Yes. Here. Right here. So what if others were just a door away? She wanted this.
His rough fingertips smoothed up her thigh. Edged higher, higher, a few more inches.
“Fuck. You’re not wearing underwear.” Max’s words came out, gravel-rough, and his eyes narrowed.
She smiled at him and ignored the surge of her heart. “Problem?”
His fingers slipped between her legs. She was already wet for him. Eager and ready.
His breath blew out on a ragged sigh. Two fingers, big and long, pushed through her folds and found her sex. His fingers drove inside, knuckles-deep.
Sam shot up on her toes. Her hands flew up to his shoulders, and she held on tight as electricity whipped through her body. Her nails dug into his tux jacket. Perfectly pressed. Screw that. She tightened the muscles of her sex around him, wanting a fast release, needing that hard pop of pleasure as—
His fingers withdrew.
Max leaned in close, and his lips feathered over her ear as he whispered, “You want to use me for sex?” Those fingers were tauntingly close to the center of her need as he stroked lightly. Petting and teasing.
Sam squeezed her eyes shut.
“Another fast screw and you walk away?” he asked softly, as his arousal rubbed against her thigh. Long and ready, and he could take her right then. Shove her skirt up, slide inside, and they’d both come. “I could be anybody, couldn’t I?” His fingers thrust deep once more, and the stab of pleasure stole her breath. “Doesn’t matter who I am.”
Max’s lips went to her throat and pressed right over the pulse that throbbed too fast. Licked. Sucked.
Yes, yes…
Did it matter who he was? Did it?
“Who am I, baby?” Now it was harder to understand the words as he growled against her flesh.
His fingers continued to drive inside her. His thumb rubbed the nub of her desire. A little more, just a little… Her cl**ax was so close that her body trembled. More.
“M-Max…” She breathed his name. The night air felt good on her flesh because suddenly she was hot, burning up, right there, burning so fast.
And she kept her eyes closed because she didn’t want to see him.
She only wanted to feel. Pleasure. Life. Not the cold touch of death.
The door squeaked, providing a bare second’s warning. “Hey, Max!” A male voice called out. “There’s someone I want you to—”
Max’s fingers pushed deep.
Sam choked back a moan as a rush of pleasure flooded through her body on a hot tide of release.
“Not now,” Max snarled.
“Ah, shit, s-sorry, m-man…” The door slammed shut.
Her breath panted out.
Max raised his head and stared down at her. “He couldn’t see you.”
No. The man would have just seen Max, wrapped around some faceless woman. Not her.
Because she wasn’t the type for casual sex. Wasn’t the kind of woman who tracked a man to a party, ditching her panties and asking him to take her on the balcony. She was the good girl. The quiet one. Always had been.
Her hip vibrated. Not from him, though she could almost expect to—
Christ, her phone!
She slapped her hands against Max’s chest and shoved him back.
His fingers slipped down her thighs. “Samantha? He didn’t—”
Her fingers trembled as she yanked out the phone and read the text. Get back to scene in Melborne ASAP. New body. The message was from Agent Dante. Oh, hell, from Dante.
“I-I have to go,” she told Max and saw his eyes widen.
“The hell you do.” He shook his head grimly and didn’t move an inch. Solid muscle. Angry, aroused male. “You’re not running this time. We’re not finished.”
No, they’d just been getting started, but she couldn’t turn down Dante, not if he was willing to give her a chance on the team. “Max, I—”
He kissed her. He’d made her come without once kissing her, and the touch of his lips seemed shocking. Too intimate. After what he’d just done? But, yes, too—
His tongue pushed past her lips. Tasted her. Took and claimed hers, and she met him head-on.
Sam liked the way he tasted. There was wine in his kiss. Just as there must be champagne on her tongue. Tangy, but sweet.
The man knew how to use his tongue. Knew how to thrust and lick and have her straining to meet him.
Her fingers clenched around the phone. Her ni**les ached, and her sex quivered.
More. More. They couldn’t have all night, but they could have a few moments. Right there.
Sam tore her mouth away. “I-I’m sorry… I’ve got—work.”
He stared at her with his jaw clenched and his strong chin angled down as he studied her. “What kind of work would call you in this late at night?”
He didn’t want to know. Sam let her lips curve. Being fake was becoming so easy. “I work with…” Oh, jeez, but she needed her voice to stop sounding so breathy and weak. “C-computers. I-I have a tech emergency.”
Half-truth. Half-lie.
He blinked. “You—”
“I have to go.” She’d have to change. No way could the others see her in this outfit. It would take an hour to drive out to Melbourne from D.C. Why did Dante want her? And—
Another body? That didn’t fit the pattern. No way. She eased away from Max and reached for the door.
“You’re running again.” Arousal still rumbled in his words. The rough timbre of a man who hadn’t gotten his pleasure.
“No, I’m just walking away.” She didn’t look back. Say something. She knew that she should. Leaving the guy like this—
The old Sam would never have done that.
Then again, the old Sam was dead. She’d died in the water months before when a serial killer had left her broken body in a lake. And these days, it felt like her ghost was all that remained.
Her spine straightened. “Sam Kennedy.” The words came out softer than she’d intended. “My name’s… Sam Kennedy.” She waited, wondering if he’d make the connection to her mother, but there was no flicker of recognition on his face. As far as she knew, Max and her mother had never met face-to-face, and since her mother was in Europe right then, she doubted their paths would be crossing soon.
But her heart still beat a little too fast. By giving him her last name, she’d given herself one less shield from him.
“Samantha Kennedy,” Max said softly as if tasting the name. But, no, he was wrong.
Max kept calling her Samantha when she was just plain old Sam. Despite her mother’s hopes, she’d never been fancy enough for Samantha. Her fingers curled around the door knob, and she began to pull it open.
“How do I find you, Samantha?”
He wanted to find her?
Well, duh, Sam, you left the man with a hard-on. Of course he wants to find you.
But she didn’t want him to see her world. Not ever. In this fake life, she and Max could touch here. Nowhere else.
Not on the streets. Not in the shadows where she worked. Not with the killers. He didn’t need to see them.
“You don’t, Max,” Sam said with a sigh, and she finally glanced back now. “But I can find you, and I will.” Unless he told her to screw off. Unless—
“Sounds like a promise.”
It was.
She gave a quick nod and opened the door. A man stood nearby, young and handsome, close to her age, and he eyed her with a knowing smile on his lips.
Her perfect man stood across the room from her, separated by the crush of bodies. The party was too hot and too noisy by far with the fake laughter and high voices and the people who were pretending to be interested in each other.
Pretending. She was so sick of pretending.
Sam snagged a drink off a waiter’s tray. She downed the champagne in two gulps and pushed her way toward her target.
He’d know who she was. Sam didn’t doubt that. Well, he’d better know.
They’d had sex two weeks ago. Sex that had left her sore and aching and satisfied. Satisfied—for a time.
Until she’d wanted more.
She really hoped that the guy remembered her.
She sure remembered him.
Max Ridgeway. Tall, dark, and sexy. The man who’d made her come in two minutes. The man who’d made her scream.
The man who’d turned her on to casual sex.
Max was lover number three in her lifetime, not that he knew that. She’d been sure to play the game. After all, she could pretend, too. She’d acted cool and confident and made sure that she didn’t screw things up.
“You.” His voice, deep and rumbling, caught her, and she looked up to see him striding toward her.
Game face, girl. Get it on. Sam lifted her chin and let her lips curl into a smile that was as fake as all the others in the room. Forget. Forget everything but him.
Why try to pick up someone else when he was there? He’d be all she needed. He’d be…
Hot enough to banish the chill from her body.
Max caught her wrist and pulled her close. All around them, men stood in their perfect tuxedos and women smiled in their designer dresses. A high-end party. One packed with people who had too much money and too much alcohol.
His face—really not handsome, but sexy, so sexy—leaned in close to hers. At six foot three, Max was big and muscled with skin tanned a light brown. His midnight black hair curled just a little too long over the back of his collar.
The first time she’d seen him, she’d known that he would be the one for her. She’d gone into the bar, taken one look, and picked the strongest man in the place.
“You left without a damn word.”
Huh. Anger hummed in his words. She wet the lips that she’d carefully painted for tonight. Part of the mask. Normally, she didn’t give a damn about makeup.
She’d come to this party for one reason. Him. She wanted more.
“I’m here now.” She rose onto her toes and whispered the words close to his mouth.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Baby, your timing is shit.”
Sam almost smiled. Would have, if she’d been a different woman. Instead, she blinked at him, not just because she was trying to appear cool but because the contacts in her eyes were driving her crazy.
“I came to find you,” she told him and thought about kissing him. But no, not yet.
“And I f**king looked for you.”
Now she was surprised. She’d figured that the guy would just move on to the next woman on his list.
“Come with me.” His grip on her wrist was almost bruising. Almost, because Max knew his strength. When he started walking, shouldering through the crowd, she followed because she wanted out of there.
A few moments later, his left hand slammed against the glass door, sending it swinging open, and then they were outside on the balcony. The crisp air of late autumn cooled her body. Max kicked the door shut behind them and finally, finally, the noise was gone.
It was just them.
“When you approached me in the bar, you didn’t know who the hell I was, did you?” A lamp shone down on him and revealed the faint lines near his blue eyes. The light cast a dark shadow behind him, making him seem even bigger.
Anger had thickened in his voice. What, couldn’t the guy just enjoy the sex like she had? What was the big deal? Sam forced a shrug, letting one shoulder rise and fall. Max still had her wrist, and she could feel the rough calluses on his fingertips. Not born into money, not this man. And when she’d seen him the first night in that bar, wearing his faded jeans and beat-up jacket, she hadn’t thought—
“You ran when you woke up and realized just whose bed you were in.”
She hadn’t exactly been concentrating on her surroundings when he took her home. Sam had been busy yanking off his clothes. But with the harsh light of morning, she’d seen…
The picture of his stepfather on the mantle. A man she’d met before. A man her own mother had dated once upon a time.
“You just introduced yourself as Max.” Her voice came out husky. Not deliberate that. But his eyes—such a bright blue—narrowed, and she heard the rasp of his breath.
“And you’re Samantha,” he said.
First names—that was all you were supposed to need for casual sex, right? “I am.”
“What do you want from me?” he demanded as he trapped her against the brick wall to the right of the door. So warm, oh, his flesh seemed to burn hers. She could feel the thick length of his arousal pressing against the front of her dress. A short, skimpy dress that she’d found buried in the back of her closet.
“I want more.” The truth. She could give him that much.
A growl rumbled in his throat.
“I don’t care that you’re rich.” Yes, let’s just put that out there. She hadn’t run because of his money. Hadn’t gone to him for that and hadn’t run away because of it. She’d left because the night was over. “I don’t want forever.” The fake promises of happily-ever-after wouldn’t suit her.
His fingers freed her wrist and wrapped around her waist. “What do you want?”
My life back.
She pushed her hand between their bodies and let her fingers rest over his racing heart. “I told you…. more.” Sex. Passion.
Anything to hold back the shadows. Anything to let her pretend that she was normal. Not some freak. Not someone who couldn’t even do her job anymore.
A woman this man wanted.
His left hand slid down her body. His fingers pressed just below the bottom of her dress.
Her breath caught. Yes. Here. Right here. So what if others were just a door away? She wanted this.
His rough fingertips smoothed up her thigh. Edged higher, higher, a few more inches.
“Fuck. You’re not wearing underwear.” Max’s words came out, gravel-rough, and his eyes narrowed.
She smiled at him and ignored the surge of her heart. “Problem?”
His fingers slipped between her legs. She was already wet for him. Eager and ready.
His breath blew out on a ragged sigh. Two fingers, big and long, pushed through her folds and found her sex. His fingers drove inside, knuckles-deep.
Sam shot up on her toes. Her hands flew up to his shoulders, and she held on tight as electricity whipped through her body. Her nails dug into his tux jacket. Perfectly pressed. Screw that. She tightened the muscles of her sex around him, wanting a fast release, needing that hard pop of pleasure as—
His fingers withdrew.
Max leaned in close, and his lips feathered over her ear as he whispered, “You want to use me for sex?” Those fingers were tauntingly close to the center of her need as he stroked lightly. Petting and teasing.
Sam squeezed her eyes shut.
“Another fast screw and you walk away?” he asked softly, as his arousal rubbed against her thigh. Long and ready, and he could take her right then. Shove her skirt up, slide inside, and they’d both come. “I could be anybody, couldn’t I?” His fingers thrust deep once more, and the stab of pleasure stole her breath. “Doesn’t matter who I am.”
Max’s lips went to her throat and pressed right over the pulse that throbbed too fast. Licked. Sucked.
Yes, yes…
Did it matter who he was? Did it?
“Who am I, baby?” Now it was harder to understand the words as he growled against her flesh.
His fingers continued to drive inside her. His thumb rubbed the nub of her desire. A little more, just a little… Her cl**ax was so close that her body trembled. More.
“M-Max…” She breathed his name. The night air felt good on her flesh because suddenly she was hot, burning up, right there, burning so fast.
And she kept her eyes closed because she didn’t want to see him.
She only wanted to feel. Pleasure. Life. Not the cold touch of death.
The door squeaked, providing a bare second’s warning. “Hey, Max!” A male voice called out. “There’s someone I want you to—”
Max’s fingers pushed deep.
Sam choked back a moan as a rush of pleasure flooded through her body on a hot tide of release.
“Not now,” Max snarled.
“Ah, shit, s-sorry, m-man…” The door slammed shut.
Her breath panted out.
Max raised his head and stared down at her. “He couldn’t see you.”
No. The man would have just seen Max, wrapped around some faceless woman. Not her.
Because she wasn’t the type for casual sex. Wasn’t the kind of woman who tracked a man to a party, ditching her panties and asking him to take her on the balcony. She was the good girl. The quiet one. Always had been.
Her hip vibrated. Not from him, though she could almost expect to—
Christ, her phone!
She slapped her hands against Max’s chest and shoved him back.
His fingers slipped down her thighs. “Samantha? He didn’t—”
Her fingers trembled as she yanked out the phone and read the text. Get back to scene in Melborne ASAP. New body. The message was from Agent Dante. Oh, hell, from Dante.
“I-I have to go,” she told Max and saw his eyes widen.
“The hell you do.” He shook his head grimly and didn’t move an inch. Solid muscle. Angry, aroused male. “You’re not running this time. We’re not finished.”
No, they’d just been getting started, but she couldn’t turn down Dante, not if he was willing to give her a chance on the team. “Max, I—”
He kissed her. He’d made her come without once kissing her, and the touch of his lips seemed shocking. Too intimate. After what he’d just done? But, yes, too—
His tongue pushed past her lips. Tasted her. Took and claimed hers, and she met him head-on.
Sam liked the way he tasted. There was wine in his kiss. Just as there must be champagne on her tongue. Tangy, but sweet.
The man knew how to use his tongue. Knew how to thrust and lick and have her straining to meet him.
Her fingers clenched around the phone. Her ni**les ached, and her sex quivered.
More. More. They couldn’t have all night, but they could have a few moments. Right there.
Sam tore her mouth away. “I-I’m sorry… I’ve got—work.”
He stared at her with his jaw clenched and his strong chin angled down as he studied her. “What kind of work would call you in this late at night?”
He didn’t want to know. Sam let her lips curve. Being fake was becoming so easy. “I work with…” Oh, jeez, but she needed her voice to stop sounding so breathy and weak. “C-computers. I-I have a tech emergency.”
Half-truth. Half-lie.
He blinked. “You—”
“I have to go.” She’d have to change. No way could the others see her in this outfit. It would take an hour to drive out to Melbourne from D.C. Why did Dante want her? And—
Another body? That didn’t fit the pattern. No way. She eased away from Max and reached for the door.
“You’re running again.” Arousal still rumbled in his words. The rough timbre of a man who hadn’t gotten his pleasure.
“No, I’m just walking away.” She didn’t look back. Say something. She knew that she should. Leaving the guy like this—
The old Sam would never have done that.
Then again, the old Sam was dead. She’d died in the water months before when a serial killer had left her broken body in a lake. And these days, it felt like her ghost was all that remained.
Her spine straightened. “Sam Kennedy.” The words came out softer than she’d intended. “My name’s… Sam Kennedy.” She waited, wondering if he’d make the connection to her mother, but there was no flicker of recognition on his face. As far as she knew, Max and her mother had never met face-to-face, and since her mother was in Europe right then, she doubted their paths would be crossing soon.
But her heart still beat a little too fast. By giving him her last name, she’d given herself one less shield from him.
“Samantha Kennedy,” Max said softly as if tasting the name. But, no, he was wrong.
Max kept calling her Samantha when she was just plain old Sam. Despite her mother’s hopes, she’d never been fancy enough for Samantha. Her fingers curled around the door knob, and she began to pull it open.
“How do I find you, Samantha?”
He wanted to find her?
Well, duh, Sam, you left the man with a hard-on. Of course he wants to find you.
But she didn’t want him to see her world. Not ever. In this fake life, she and Max could touch here. Nowhere else.
Not on the streets. Not in the shadows where she worked. Not with the killers. He didn’t need to see them.
“You don’t, Max,” Sam said with a sigh, and she finally glanced back now. “But I can find you, and I will.” Unless he told her to screw off. Unless—
“Sounds like a promise.”
It was.
She gave a quick nod and opened the door. A man stood nearby, young and handsome, close to her age, and he eyed her with a knowing smile on his lips.
