Deadly Lies
Page 3
Sam walked right past him, her mind already on the case.
On the dead body that waited for her.
Samantha Kennedy.
So he had a full name. A name and a face and a hard-on that was really damn painful.
Max Ridgeway stalked to the edge of the balcony. His hands gripped the thick metal railing, and he sucked in a deep breath.
And still tasted her.
Samantha.
She’d come against his hand. He hadn’t missed the hard clench of her sex or the soft cream that coated his fingers. She’d come, she’d kissed him, then she’d walked away.
Using him for sex.
Jesus Christ—women usually used him for money. For power.
Sex?
Probably shouldn’t complain. He was supposed to like that, right?
But he didn’t. Max yanked at his bow tie, loosening the knot, hating the damn thing, hating the stupid party he’d been forced to attend. Five years ago, he never would’ve been caught in this scene, but these days, he knew he had to play the game in order to keep his business in the black.
His business. The minute he’d seen Samantha, he’d forgotten all about the deals that he’d been working on at the party. As a rule, Max didn’t go for one-night stands. He was long past the stranger pickup. Well, he had been. Until Samantha had touched him, and he’d gotten lost in her dark, turbulent eyes.
Walking away from her that night hadn’t been possible, not after he’d tasted her. He’d taken her lips and known he’d take her.
The beginning. For him, that’s what it had been.
Max wanted more from Samantha Kennedy than just a few hot hours in the dark.
Down on the street below him, she ran from the building, hurriedly dodging in and out of the lights. The lamps caught the red of her hair, flickering almost like fire in the heavy curls.
Samantha.
When she’d come up to him at that bar, her heart-shaped face had been so pale. Her brown eyes so wide. Her mouth—slick and red—had trembled.
She’d been afraid, and he’d wanted her.
A fast f**k.
No.
Max knew when a woman had secrets, and Samantha carried those secrets like a cloak around her sensual little body.
Samantha jumped into a small red VW Bug. He almost smiled at that. Hadn’t been expecting her to—
She shot out of the lot with a roar of the car’s engine, and he watched until the red taillights vanished.
It would be easy to find her. He had connections in D.C. His, his stepfather’s. He could track her and discover everything that there was to know about Samantha Kennedy in a matter of hours.
If that was what he wanted.
Secrets.
He had them, too. In spades.
I’ll find you. She’d better. Because Samantha Kennedy had made a mistake. She’d given him a taste, and now Max found that he wanted more.
Being a greedy bastard was part of his nature. When he wanted something, he took it.
He wanted Samantha.
“Thought you didn’t go for the society ladies.” His stepbrother’s mocking voice drifted in the air to him.
Max didn’t glance back. He’d heard the door open, just as he’d heard it earlier when Quinlan came outside. At a piss-poor time.
“Sorry for the interruption.” The soft tread of Quinlan’s shoes padded over the tile. “Didn’t expect you to be… occupied out here.”
Max forced himself to release the railing.
Quinlan’s rough laugh filled the night, only to end with a nervous edge. “Didn’t know you went for sex in public places, man.”
“I don’t.” Normally. “And whatever you thought you saw out here, forget it.” Kissing and telling wasn’t his style either. Slowly, Max turned around and stared at his younger brother. Hell, his stepbrother was probably a lot closer to Samantha’s age than Max was at thirty-three.
Quinlan gulped and looked away. His left hand lifted to rub against his neck, and his golden horseshoe ring—his so-called lucky charm, a gift from Quinlan’s father—glinted.
His stepbrother always seemed to have trouble looking him in the eye. Since his mother’s death, so did their “father.”
Max headed for the door. He was done with this scene. He didn’t need to schmooze and party. What he needed—well, she’d driven away.
I’ll find you. She’d better.
Find me, or I’ll find you, baby.
CHAPTER Two
Sweat was slick on Sam’s palms as fear settled heavily in her belly. She slammed the car door, rubbed her hands on the black pants she’d changed into at her place, and stared up at the looming mansion.
Two police cruisers were parked near the gate. A crime scene investigation team fanned over the area.
She sucked in a deep breath, then shoved back her shoulders and marched forward as she pulled out her ID. “I’m with the FBI—where’s Agent Dante?” Dante, not Hyde. She didn’t want to see him just then.
A uniform pointed toward the big house. “With the body.”
Another kill didn’t make any sense. The Briars only had one son so no one else at the residence fit the kidnappers’ profile. The vics were rich males in their early twenties. Party boys who had parents with too much money and too little time for them.
The first kidnapping had occurred three months ago. The ransom demand had come twenty-four hours after the college student disappeared. The father paid, and the next day the son was back and able to provide absolutely no description of his abductors.
Next a man had been taken from Virginia, then one from D.C. Poor Jeremy Briar had been abducted from Maryland.
All of the men disappeared from college campuses, or rather, from bars located near the campuses.
Two men had come back alive.
Two hadn’t been so lucky.
The serial kidnappers were smart, very good at covering their tracks, and too good at picking targets.
When it came to knowing the identity of the abductors, the SSD had nothing. Nothing.
She hurried down an elaborate walkway and eased past a fountain that sprayed water high into the air. Voices rose and fell, drifting out of the house through the open doorway. She stepped off the path and found herself on a mosaic that reproduced a Rembrandt painting.
Too much money. Maybe too much time, too.
Sam eased past the uniforms stationed near the door, keeping her ID out. “I need to find Agent Dante.” She still didn’t know why he’d called her in, but she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“He’s in the study,” the nearest cop told her.
Sam’s brows rose. That was supposed to tell her what, exactly?
The cop flushed a deep red—a red that matched his hair. “Down the hallway, second door. The room with the body.”
Right, the body. This family had sure been through hell.
Her shoes whispered against the tile. First they’d lost their only child and now—
Sam skidded to a halt just outside the study. The techs were bagging the victim, an older guy with gray-streaked hair, tanned skin, and half his skull missing.
“Morgan Briar,” Luke Dante murmured, looking up from his notes and giving her a cool nod. He stood near the large window to the right. “He’s been dead about five hours now.” Luke’s green eyes held hers.
Morgan Briar. The father. Oh, Jesus. “What happened? Why—”
“No, I don’t need a damn lawyer!” A woman’s shrill cry tore through the air. Sam glanced over her shoulder and saw a tall, icily beautiful blonde being led down the stairs. The woman wore slim black pants and what looked like a white cashmere sweater. The sweater was stained with blood.
“That’d be Mrs. Kathleen Briar,” Luke murmured.
Kathleen’s hair had come loose from one of those fancy twists that Sam had never been able to manage.
Cops flanked the woman on either side. One, an older guy with graying hair at his temples, was reading the woman her rights. “If you can’t afford—”
“I can afford a f**king attorney. I just don’t want one right now!” Kathleen’s voice rose to a screech.
“She called it in about an hour ago,” Luke said quietly, and Sam heard the hint of a drawl beneath his words. He strode forward and came to her side.
Luke was still the newest agent in the SSD. He’d transferred up from Atlanta and had immediately paired up with the unit’s top profiler, Monica Davenport. “From the looks of things,” he continued, motioning toward the bar, “Mrs. Briar had a gin before making that call.”
“She killed him?” Sam shook her head. Okay, she hadn’t expected that.
The cop kept reading the Miranda rights to his perp. “Anything you say or do can be held…”
“She told the 9-1-1 operator that she shot her husband.” Luke crossed his arms and watched the procession. Kathleen and her guards were almost at the study door now. Almost…
Kathleen stopped to glare at Sam and Luke. “I’m not sorry.”
Luke lifted one shoulder. “Never said you were, ma’am.” His voice was cool. Odd, because of all the agents, he was the one who always seemed the most intense. The one who seemed to care too much.
Maybe he’d been hanging around with Monica and Hyde too long.
Kathleen’s eyes were bone dry. No tears for her. “Jeremy was mine. That a**hole should have told me about the call. He should have—” She broke off and shook her head. “Jeremy would be alive. Alive.”
Now her husband and son were both dead, and there was fury glittering in her green eyes.
“He cheated on me,” Kathleen admitted in a stark voice. The cops beside her were silent, their own eyes wide. “He bought houses for those sluts that cost more than my son’s ransom.” She swallowed. “He let Jeremy die. I can still see him, cut up. My baby…” Her eyes closed.
Luke watched her with a somber stare, then he caught the gaze of the older cop. “Take her outside.”
This kill would be the local PD’s show, not a case for the SSD, but the cops were still looking to Luke for guidance.
The cop nodded and reached for the cuffs on his hip.
“No.” Luke shook his head. “Just put her in the back of the squad car.”
Kathleen’s lashes lifted, and the fury had vanished. That fast. She blinked and just looked… lost. “Jeremy’s gone.”
Sam swallowed. So was Morgan. “Mrs. Briar, I really think you should reconsider that attorney.”
Another slow, almost confused blink. “My baby…”
The cops took Kathleen’s arms and guided her down the long, winding hallway. Her heels clicked on the tiles.
“I never expected her to react like this,” Luke said.
Sam’s gaze shot to Luke. He ran a fast hand through his hair. “Shit. She seemed so controlled earlier today.”
Because the woman had been in shock.
“I should have brought Monica to the scene.” He eased into the hallway. “She would have seen the signs. I should have seen them.”
Monica could look at a killer and see the darkest parts of his mind, but when it came to the victims… “She might not have seen it either.” The words came out harder than she’d intended.
One of Luke’s blond brows shot up.
Sam cleared her throat. Yes, that had sounded wrong, but lately, Monica made her nervous. Very nervous. She was worried that Monica might look too close and see—
Broken.
“Why am I here?” Sam asked him, leaving the study and the body and finally feeling like she could breathe again. “Hyde said—”
“I’m lead on this case.” Authority pushed through the flat words.
She inclined her head in agreement. “But we both know that when it comes to the SSD, Hyde calls the shots.” Sam really didn’t think Luke wanted to get into a pissing match with the big boss. “Hyde said for me to stay away.”
They walked down the hallway. No staff members appeared. In a place this big, she’d expected a maid or—someone. But maybe Kathleen Briar had sent the help away, right before she shot her husband in the head at point-blank range.
“Hyde said to stay away, but here you are,” Luke pointed out. “Guess you couldn’t stay away from the case, could you?”
She glanced over and found his eyes on her, weighing her. “You called me.” And she’d jumped at his call.
“Monica wants me to use you on this case.”
Sam couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d punched her. Monica and Hyde usually agreed on everything.
“She says you need the case.”
Her chin lifted. “I do.” She could work this case.
“But tell me, Sam, what will you do when the danger is right in front of you?”
Her tongue swiped across her lips. Are you ready to die? Beg… go on, beg… That bastard’s voice always seemed to be in her head.
“Hyde thinks you’ll crack,” Luke said bluntly. “He let you out on a test run before, but he doesn’t believe you’re ready.”
Luke had led her away from the other investigators. Maybe he was trying to save her pride by talking to her in private. Like she had a lot of pride left.
“I’m ready.” She injected steel in her voice.
“Maybe.”
Sam held his stare and refused to back down.
He exhaled on a sigh. “I like you, Sam. You got one messed-up deal on the Watchman case.”
Don’t flinch. Don’t.
“But I can’t have you screwing up my case.” Soft but brutal.
And not unexpected. For the SSD, the case came first.
Luke waited a beat and then said, “I have to be able to trust that you can do your job.”
On the dead body that waited for her.
Samantha Kennedy.
So he had a full name. A name and a face and a hard-on that was really damn painful.
Max Ridgeway stalked to the edge of the balcony. His hands gripped the thick metal railing, and he sucked in a deep breath.
And still tasted her.
Samantha.
She’d come against his hand. He hadn’t missed the hard clench of her sex or the soft cream that coated his fingers. She’d come, she’d kissed him, then she’d walked away.
Using him for sex.
Jesus Christ—women usually used him for money. For power.
Sex?
Probably shouldn’t complain. He was supposed to like that, right?
But he didn’t. Max yanked at his bow tie, loosening the knot, hating the damn thing, hating the stupid party he’d been forced to attend. Five years ago, he never would’ve been caught in this scene, but these days, he knew he had to play the game in order to keep his business in the black.
His business. The minute he’d seen Samantha, he’d forgotten all about the deals that he’d been working on at the party. As a rule, Max didn’t go for one-night stands. He was long past the stranger pickup. Well, he had been. Until Samantha had touched him, and he’d gotten lost in her dark, turbulent eyes.
Walking away from her that night hadn’t been possible, not after he’d tasted her. He’d taken her lips and known he’d take her.
The beginning. For him, that’s what it had been.
Max wanted more from Samantha Kennedy than just a few hot hours in the dark.
Down on the street below him, she ran from the building, hurriedly dodging in and out of the lights. The lamps caught the red of her hair, flickering almost like fire in the heavy curls.
Samantha.
When she’d come up to him at that bar, her heart-shaped face had been so pale. Her brown eyes so wide. Her mouth—slick and red—had trembled.
She’d been afraid, and he’d wanted her.
A fast f**k.
No.
Max knew when a woman had secrets, and Samantha carried those secrets like a cloak around her sensual little body.
Samantha jumped into a small red VW Bug. He almost smiled at that. Hadn’t been expecting her to—
She shot out of the lot with a roar of the car’s engine, and he watched until the red taillights vanished.
It would be easy to find her. He had connections in D.C. His, his stepfather’s. He could track her and discover everything that there was to know about Samantha Kennedy in a matter of hours.
If that was what he wanted.
Secrets.
He had them, too. In spades.
I’ll find you. She’d better. Because Samantha Kennedy had made a mistake. She’d given him a taste, and now Max found that he wanted more.
Being a greedy bastard was part of his nature. When he wanted something, he took it.
He wanted Samantha.
“Thought you didn’t go for the society ladies.” His stepbrother’s mocking voice drifted in the air to him.
Max didn’t glance back. He’d heard the door open, just as he’d heard it earlier when Quinlan came outside. At a piss-poor time.
“Sorry for the interruption.” The soft tread of Quinlan’s shoes padded over the tile. “Didn’t expect you to be… occupied out here.”
Max forced himself to release the railing.
Quinlan’s rough laugh filled the night, only to end with a nervous edge. “Didn’t know you went for sex in public places, man.”
“I don’t.” Normally. “And whatever you thought you saw out here, forget it.” Kissing and telling wasn’t his style either. Slowly, Max turned around and stared at his younger brother. Hell, his stepbrother was probably a lot closer to Samantha’s age than Max was at thirty-three.
Quinlan gulped and looked away. His left hand lifted to rub against his neck, and his golden horseshoe ring—his so-called lucky charm, a gift from Quinlan’s father—glinted.
His stepbrother always seemed to have trouble looking him in the eye. Since his mother’s death, so did their “father.”
Max headed for the door. He was done with this scene. He didn’t need to schmooze and party. What he needed—well, she’d driven away.
I’ll find you. She’d better.
Find me, or I’ll find you, baby.
CHAPTER Two
Sweat was slick on Sam’s palms as fear settled heavily in her belly. She slammed the car door, rubbed her hands on the black pants she’d changed into at her place, and stared up at the looming mansion.
Two police cruisers were parked near the gate. A crime scene investigation team fanned over the area.
She sucked in a deep breath, then shoved back her shoulders and marched forward as she pulled out her ID. “I’m with the FBI—where’s Agent Dante?” Dante, not Hyde. She didn’t want to see him just then.
A uniform pointed toward the big house. “With the body.”
Another kill didn’t make any sense. The Briars only had one son so no one else at the residence fit the kidnappers’ profile. The vics were rich males in their early twenties. Party boys who had parents with too much money and too little time for them.
The first kidnapping had occurred three months ago. The ransom demand had come twenty-four hours after the college student disappeared. The father paid, and the next day the son was back and able to provide absolutely no description of his abductors.
Next a man had been taken from Virginia, then one from D.C. Poor Jeremy Briar had been abducted from Maryland.
All of the men disappeared from college campuses, or rather, from bars located near the campuses.
Two men had come back alive.
Two hadn’t been so lucky.
The serial kidnappers were smart, very good at covering their tracks, and too good at picking targets.
When it came to knowing the identity of the abductors, the SSD had nothing. Nothing.
She hurried down an elaborate walkway and eased past a fountain that sprayed water high into the air. Voices rose and fell, drifting out of the house through the open doorway. She stepped off the path and found herself on a mosaic that reproduced a Rembrandt painting.
Too much money. Maybe too much time, too.
Sam eased past the uniforms stationed near the door, keeping her ID out. “I need to find Agent Dante.” She still didn’t know why he’d called her in, but she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“He’s in the study,” the nearest cop told her.
Sam’s brows rose. That was supposed to tell her what, exactly?
The cop flushed a deep red—a red that matched his hair. “Down the hallway, second door. The room with the body.”
Right, the body. This family had sure been through hell.
Her shoes whispered against the tile. First they’d lost their only child and now—
Sam skidded to a halt just outside the study. The techs were bagging the victim, an older guy with gray-streaked hair, tanned skin, and half his skull missing.
“Morgan Briar,” Luke Dante murmured, looking up from his notes and giving her a cool nod. He stood near the large window to the right. “He’s been dead about five hours now.” Luke’s green eyes held hers.
Morgan Briar. The father. Oh, Jesus. “What happened? Why—”
“No, I don’t need a damn lawyer!” A woman’s shrill cry tore through the air. Sam glanced over her shoulder and saw a tall, icily beautiful blonde being led down the stairs. The woman wore slim black pants and what looked like a white cashmere sweater. The sweater was stained with blood.
“That’d be Mrs. Kathleen Briar,” Luke murmured.
Kathleen’s hair had come loose from one of those fancy twists that Sam had never been able to manage.
Cops flanked the woman on either side. One, an older guy with graying hair at his temples, was reading the woman her rights. “If you can’t afford—”
“I can afford a f**king attorney. I just don’t want one right now!” Kathleen’s voice rose to a screech.
“She called it in about an hour ago,” Luke said quietly, and Sam heard the hint of a drawl beneath his words. He strode forward and came to her side.
Luke was still the newest agent in the SSD. He’d transferred up from Atlanta and had immediately paired up with the unit’s top profiler, Monica Davenport. “From the looks of things,” he continued, motioning toward the bar, “Mrs. Briar had a gin before making that call.”
“She killed him?” Sam shook her head. Okay, she hadn’t expected that.
The cop kept reading the Miranda rights to his perp. “Anything you say or do can be held…”
“She told the 9-1-1 operator that she shot her husband.” Luke crossed his arms and watched the procession. Kathleen and her guards were almost at the study door now. Almost…
Kathleen stopped to glare at Sam and Luke. “I’m not sorry.”
Luke lifted one shoulder. “Never said you were, ma’am.” His voice was cool. Odd, because of all the agents, he was the one who always seemed the most intense. The one who seemed to care too much.
Maybe he’d been hanging around with Monica and Hyde too long.
Kathleen’s eyes were bone dry. No tears for her. “Jeremy was mine. That a**hole should have told me about the call. He should have—” She broke off and shook her head. “Jeremy would be alive. Alive.”
Now her husband and son were both dead, and there was fury glittering in her green eyes.
“He cheated on me,” Kathleen admitted in a stark voice. The cops beside her were silent, their own eyes wide. “He bought houses for those sluts that cost more than my son’s ransom.” She swallowed. “He let Jeremy die. I can still see him, cut up. My baby…” Her eyes closed.
Luke watched her with a somber stare, then he caught the gaze of the older cop. “Take her outside.”
This kill would be the local PD’s show, not a case for the SSD, but the cops were still looking to Luke for guidance.
The cop nodded and reached for the cuffs on his hip.
“No.” Luke shook his head. “Just put her in the back of the squad car.”
Kathleen’s lashes lifted, and the fury had vanished. That fast. She blinked and just looked… lost. “Jeremy’s gone.”
Sam swallowed. So was Morgan. “Mrs. Briar, I really think you should reconsider that attorney.”
Another slow, almost confused blink. “My baby…”
The cops took Kathleen’s arms and guided her down the long, winding hallway. Her heels clicked on the tiles.
“I never expected her to react like this,” Luke said.
Sam’s gaze shot to Luke. He ran a fast hand through his hair. “Shit. She seemed so controlled earlier today.”
Because the woman had been in shock.
“I should have brought Monica to the scene.” He eased into the hallway. “She would have seen the signs. I should have seen them.”
Monica could look at a killer and see the darkest parts of his mind, but when it came to the victims… “She might not have seen it either.” The words came out harder than she’d intended.
One of Luke’s blond brows shot up.
Sam cleared her throat. Yes, that had sounded wrong, but lately, Monica made her nervous. Very nervous. She was worried that Monica might look too close and see—
Broken.
“Why am I here?” Sam asked him, leaving the study and the body and finally feeling like she could breathe again. “Hyde said—”
“I’m lead on this case.” Authority pushed through the flat words.
She inclined her head in agreement. “But we both know that when it comes to the SSD, Hyde calls the shots.” Sam really didn’t think Luke wanted to get into a pissing match with the big boss. “Hyde said for me to stay away.”
They walked down the hallway. No staff members appeared. In a place this big, she’d expected a maid or—someone. But maybe Kathleen Briar had sent the help away, right before she shot her husband in the head at point-blank range.
“Hyde said to stay away, but here you are,” Luke pointed out. “Guess you couldn’t stay away from the case, could you?”
She glanced over and found his eyes on her, weighing her. “You called me.” And she’d jumped at his call.
“Monica wants me to use you on this case.”
Sam couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d punched her. Monica and Hyde usually agreed on everything.
“She says you need the case.”
Her chin lifted. “I do.” She could work this case.
“But tell me, Sam, what will you do when the danger is right in front of you?”
Her tongue swiped across her lips. Are you ready to die? Beg… go on, beg… That bastard’s voice always seemed to be in her head.
“Hyde thinks you’ll crack,” Luke said bluntly. “He let you out on a test run before, but he doesn’t believe you’re ready.”
Luke had led her away from the other investigators. Maybe he was trying to save her pride by talking to her in private. Like she had a lot of pride left.
“I’m ready.” She injected steel in her voice.
“Maybe.”
Sam held his stare and refused to back down.
He exhaled on a sigh. “I like you, Sam. You got one messed-up deal on the Watchman case.”
Don’t flinch. Don’t.
“But I can’t have you screwing up my case.” Soft but brutal.
And not unexpected. For the SSD, the case came first.
Luke waited a beat and then said, “I have to be able to trust that you can do your job.”
