Deadly Lies
Page 7
Her tongue snaked out and licked his bottom lip.
Dammit.
He caught her arms and held tight. His mouth took hers, and his tongue plunged deep. She didn’t taste like wine or beer. Sweet, tangy.
Just woman.
Her br**sts stabbed against his chest, the ni**les already tight, and his hand pushed between their bodies. He cupped her breast through her thin shirt, squeezing and stroking and wanting that tight nipple on his tongue.
“Max!”
She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. Just as much.
Quinlan shoved away from the bar. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
The blonde smiled at him. “Want some company?”
Yes. He kissed her, took those dark red lips, and the room seemed to spin around him.
He pulled away, real slow, and took her hand as he headed for the front door.
“No,” she said, tugging back. “This way,” and she pointed to the back.
Whatever. Right then, he’d go anyplace she wanted to lead.
Any damn place.
They made it back to Max’s place. Barely. He’d followed behind Samantha, tailing that Bug and cursing the hard need in his dick.
He hadn’t been this bad off since he was eighteen. What was it about Samantha? Why couldn’t he seem to get enough of her?
They stumbled through the lobby. When the elevator doors closed behind them, he couldn’t wait any longer. She slipped back against the mirrored walls, and he yanked up her shirt. Pale blue bra…
He shoved aside the lace, found her nipple, dark red like a tight, sweet cherry. His mouth closed around her breast, sucking, taking that nipple against his tongue. Licking, stroking, using his teeth to score her flesh.
Her moan filled his ears even as her h*ps bucked against him. His c*ck was so swollen that he hurt, and if the elevator didn’t move faster…
He’d take her there.
Ding.
Her hands shoved against him. “Max, someone…”
He had her shirt off in two seconds. Her face flushed, her eyes gleamed with lust, and when she glanced down, well, hell, Max knew there was no missing the tent in his pants.
But no one was there. His floor. They hurried down the hall. He nearly knocked down his door before he got the key in the lock and the door finally swung open.
Bed, bed, make it to the bed.
Their clothes littered the floor. Her shirt. His.
The hallway. They’d made it that far.
She lost her shoes.
His followed.
Her pants came down.
Fuck.
She stumbled into his bedroom. Stripped off her bra. The panties…
Samantha fell back onto the bed, spreading her pale thighs, and he caught her silken flesh, opening her up more. His turn to taste.
He found her wet. Ready. Her flavor was richer, sharper below. He licked her clit, loving the way that she pressed up against him, and her breath hissed out. But this time…
“Say my name, Samantha.” He nearly growled the order.
They were using each other.
Sex. Pleasure. Fair enough, but he wanted no confusion when it came to who was f**king her.
His tongue drove inside her.
“Max!”
One more lick. One more. Damn, not enough. He tasted her, and he wanted more. Like a damn addiction.
Her h*ps arched. Her cl**ax was close, so close that he felt the quiver in her sex.
Max reared back and yanked out a condom from the nightstand drawer. He sheathed his cock, positioned, and drove deep.
Samantha came with the first thrust. A hard explosion that shook her whole body and had her sex clamping fist-tight around him.
He rode out her pleasure. Plunged into her, again and again, and the tension built. Higher. Sharper. Stronger.
Sweat coated his shoulders. Her moans filled the air. The bed started to squeak.
Her legs wrapped around him. Her ankles dug into his ass. Her eyes were open, on him.
Seeing me.
He erupted inside of her.
Max dozed, not long, and woke to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.
Awareness came instantly. He shot up in bed. “Running away again?”
Clad in her bra and panties, Samantha glanced back at him. “I can’t stay the night.”
Can’t. Won’t. Right. Just sex.
If he wanted a woman to stay the night, he had a drawer full of numbers he could call. Maybe he would. His jaw clenched, and he gritted, “You know the way out. Just go and—”
The phone on the nightstand rang. Who the hell was calling him this late? Shit, if there was a problem at one of his sites… Swearing, Max grabbed the phone. “Ridgeway.”
Samantha backed out the door. He wasn’t going after her. Wouldn’t stop her. Maybe it was time for the madness to end. This was going nowhere; it was—
“I have something of yours….” A gruff whisper.
“What?” Max blinked and then ran a hand down his face. “Who is this?”
“If you want him back, you’ll make sure I get my payment.”
“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but this conversation is over.” Too late for this shit.
Samantha stilled in the hallway. He caught the flash of her hip, the curve of her sweet ass.
“Don’t call again, got me?” Max started to drop the phone.
“How much is your brother’s life worth?” That same damn whisper taunted.
It took a moment for understanding to sink in. Brother. His spine snapped straight. “What are you talking about?” he barked.
Laughter. Mocking. Chilling his blood. “I have your brother, and if his old man doesn’t pay, I’ll send him back to you in pieces.”
No, no, this wasn’t happening. This was bullshit. Some sick joke. “You’ve got Quinlan?”
The door squeaked. Not closing this time; opening. Samantha slipped back inside. His gaze shot to her, and Max found her watching him with wide eyes and a pale face.
“If you want Quinlan to keep the blood inside his body, you’ll do what I say.”
Hell. “Let me talk to him, now!”
“You don’t give the orders.”
That drumming in his ears—nearly drowning out the bastard’s words—was that his heart? “You don’t have him,” he said with sudden certainty. Sick freak. “You don’t even know—”
“If you hadn’t been so busy trying to screw the pretty whore on the street, you might have even seen me take him from The Core. You were right there. You could have saved him.”
His fingers nearly smashed the phone. Watching. “Put my brother on the line!”
“No.” Again that twisted laughter. “Just be a good errand boy and do what you’re told. I’ll be sending the old man a message—and you’re going to damn well make sure he pays.”
Joke, had to be a joke—
“You go to the cops, you try to mark the bills, and the ME will be piecing your brother back together for weeks. Got me? Weeks.”
Then the phone went dead.
CHAPTER Four
Max?” Samantha stepped toward him. “Max, what’s going on?”
Very carefully, he set the phone back on the cradle. “You need to leave now.” Quinlan. Shit, how had this happened?
He’d read an article in the paper about that guy, Briar. The poor bastard had been nearly sliced apart and then left outside his parents’ house. But Jesus, that had been over in Maryland. Not in D.C., not—
Max jumped from the bed and started yanking on his clothes. “Leave, Samantha.” She couldn’t be here for this. He didn’t want her anywhere near the nightmare that was about to come calling on him.
Taken.
He had to get to Frank’s place. Hold on, Quinlan. Just hold on.
Max spun around and nearly slammed into Samantha. Her hands reached up and locked around his shoulders. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Family issue. That’s all.” Max pulled away from her. He hurried into the hall and scooped up her shirt, then he tossed it back to her. “Playtime’s over.”
Her eyes narrowed at that, and he knew he was being a bastard, but he had to get away from her. Can’t let this touch her. “The next time you’re looking for a fast f**k, baby, give me a call, but—”
“Stop it!” Red stained her cheeks. “I heard you. You know I did!” She took a step toward him, a furrow between her brows. Her voice lowered as she asked, “Someone has your brother? Someone has kidnapped Quinlan?”
He just stared back at her.
“What do they want?” Whispered now. Afraid.
That same fear was in his heart, twisting and turning along with a fury that flamed too hot. “I don’t know yet.” His mouth had gone bone dry.
Samantha pulled the shirt over her head. Her soft curls tangled around her face. “They’ll call you again, right? If we stay here, they’ll call…” She hurriedly finished dressing.
He shook his head. Wasting time. “I have to get to my stepfather’s.” He swung away from her. “The a**hole on the phone said there’d be a message….” But when would it come? And just what would he want?
Money, obviously, but how much? Frank Malone was worth so damn much money. Malone’s first wife had been one of those rich, old-money types, and when she died all of her fortune had gone straight to Frank.
No matter how much the bastard wanted, Max would make sure that Frank paid. Max wasn’t going to let his brother wind up like Briar. “I think it’s the same ones,” he muttered, not looking back. “Like that guy in the paper.”
“You don’t know that for certain,” her voice came with a fast, hard snap, and he stopped in surprise.
Samantha circled him, forcing him to stare at her. “You don’t know anything about these people. This could just be a hoax, a trick, somebody who saw the story in the papers and who wants to screw with you.”
If only. “The guy on the phone—he saw us at The Core.”
Her lips parted in surprise.
“He was there, baby. He saw you, he saw me, and he took my brother while I was so distracted by you I could hardly breathe.” He stared into her deep eyes, eyes so wide and open, and for a second, a dark suspicion twisted in his soul.
They’d met so suddenly. She’d come on so strong.
Then she’d just appeared at the D.C. party. With me and Quinlan.
And she’d been at The Core, with me and Quinlan.
Samantha had been there last night, and tonight…
Frank Malone would pay nothing if Max disappeared. Max wasn’t real flesh and blood, so the old man wouldn’t give a shit about him. The money—the family money—was all tied to Quinlan.
“The guy said he’d been following you?” Real surprise flashed over her delicate features.
He grabbed his keys. “Go home. I don’t have time for—”
“I’m coming with you!” Fast, tumbling words. “Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re doing, I’m coming.”
He glanced up in time to see Samantha snatch up her shoes. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” she told him.
Max shook his head. “You don’t know what—”
Her fingers wrapped around his. “You don’t know what’s coming either. But you don’t need to be alone.”
His jaw clenched.
“Either you let me come with you or I’ll follow you, so just accept—”
“They could still be watching. Shit, they are watching. That a**hole on the phone, he told me if I went to the cops, I’d get my brother back in pieces!”
She flinched. “Max, you should—”
“Did you read the headlines? Did you see what they did to that other poor bastard?” The guy had suffered for a long time. “They’ll do it.” His eyes squeezed shut for an instant. Worry and guilt ate at him. “I was right there, and I didn’t even see them take him.”
“This isn’t your fault!”
“I’m getting Quinlan back. I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m getting my brother back.” His gaze met hers.
Samantha just stared at him, her expression worried. She doesn’t think I’ll ever see him again.
And deep down, he was afraid of the same damn thing.
Max drove fast. Too fast. The seatbelt cut into Sam’s shoulder as he rounded a too-sharp curve, and her breath hissed out. Her fingers were shoved in her purse, and she was sending the text on her phone as quickly as she could.
And she was hoping like hell that Max was so focused on the road and so distracted by his brother’s abduction that he wouldn’t notice what she was doing.
Hurry, hurry. Her fingers tapped quickly even as her stomach twisted.
He told me if I went to the cops, I’d get my brother back in pieces! Max’s words wouldn’t stop playing through her head.
If he knew who she really was… If he knew what she was doing…
No choice. This was her job.
And Quinlan’s life.
Sam sent the message and knew that she’d lost her lover.
Luke Dante’s phone beeped, a slow, deep tone that told him a message had come through for him. It was piss late, and he was comfortable, satiated, and in bed with the woman he loved.
Not just in bed with her. Three weeks ago, he’d moved in with her. Next step is marriage, baby. Get ready. Before Monica realized it, he’d have her bound to him for life.
And he wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything less.
For an instant, he thought about ignoring the text for a few hours, just until the sun slipped into the sky. He wanted to see the sun rise with Monica. The woman had a killer view from her bedroom. Much better than he’d had at his apartment. Not that he’d spent many mornings there.
Dammit.
He caught her arms and held tight. His mouth took hers, and his tongue plunged deep. She didn’t taste like wine or beer. Sweet, tangy.
Just woman.
Her br**sts stabbed against his chest, the ni**les already tight, and his hand pushed between their bodies. He cupped her breast through her thin shirt, squeezing and stroking and wanting that tight nipple on his tongue.
“Max!”
She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. Just as much.
Quinlan shoved away from the bar. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
The blonde smiled at him. “Want some company?”
Yes. He kissed her, took those dark red lips, and the room seemed to spin around him.
He pulled away, real slow, and took her hand as he headed for the front door.
“No,” she said, tugging back. “This way,” and she pointed to the back.
Whatever. Right then, he’d go anyplace she wanted to lead.
Any damn place.
They made it back to Max’s place. Barely. He’d followed behind Samantha, tailing that Bug and cursing the hard need in his dick.
He hadn’t been this bad off since he was eighteen. What was it about Samantha? Why couldn’t he seem to get enough of her?
They stumbled through the lobby. When the elevator doors closed behind them, he couldn’t wait any longer. She slipped back against the mirrored walls, and he yanked up her shirt. Pale blue bra…
He shoved aside the lace, found her nipple, dark red like a tight, sweet cherry. His mouth closed around her breast, sucking, taking that nipple against his tongue. Licking, stroking, using his teeth to score her flesh.
Her moan filled his ears even as her h*ps bucked against him. His c*ck was so swollen that he hurt, and if the elevator didn’t move faster…
He’d take her there.
Ding.
Her hands shoved against him. “Max, someone…”
He had her shirt off in two seconds. Her face flushed, her eyes gleamed with lust, and when she glanced down, well, hell, Max knew there was no missing the tent in his pants.
But no one was there. His floor. They hurried down the hall. He nearly knocked down his door before he got the key in the lock and the door finally swung open.
Bed, bed, make it to the bed.
Their clothes littered the floor. Her shirt. His.
The hallway. They’d made it that far.
She lost her shoes.
His followed.
Her pants came down.
Fuck.
She stumbled into his bedroom. Stripped off her bra. The panties…
Samantha fell back onto the bed, spreading her pale thighs, and he caught her silken flesh, opening her up more. His turn to taste.
He found her wet. Ready. Her flavor was richer, sharper below. He licked her clit, loving the way that she pressed up against him, and her breath hissed out. But this time…
“Say my name, Samantha.” He nearly growled the order.
They were using each other.
Sex. Pleasure. Fair enough, but he wanted no confusion when it came to who was f**king her.
His tongue drove inside her.
“Max!”
One more lick. One more. Damn, not enough. He tasted her, and he wanted more. Like a damn addiction.
Her h*ps arched. Her cl**ax was close, so close that he felt the quiver in her sex.
Max reared back and yanked out a condom from the nightstand drawer. He sheathed his cock, positioned, and drove deep.
Samantha came with the first thrust. A hard explosion that shook her whole body and had her sex clamping fist-tight around him.
He rode out her pleasure. Plunged into her, again and again, and the tension built. Higher. Sharper. Stronger.
Sweat coated his shoulders. Her moans filled the air. The bed started to squeak.
Her legs wrapped around him. Her ankles dug into his ass. Her eyes were open, on him.
Seeing me.
He erupted inside of her.
Max dozed, not long, and woke to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.
Awareness came instantly. He shot up in bed. “Running away again?”
Clad in her bra and panties, Samantha glanced back at him. “I can’t stay the night.”
Can’t. Won’t. Right. Just sex.
If he wanted a woman to stay the night, he had a drawer full of numbers he could call. Maybe he would. His jaw clenched, and he gritted, “You know the way out. Just go and—”
The phone on the nightstand rang. Who the hell was calling him this late? Shit, if there was a problem at one of his sites… Swearing, Max grabbed the phone. “Ridgeway.”
Samantha backed out the door. He wasn’t going after her. Wouldn’t stop her. Maybe it was time for the madness to end. This was going nowhere; it was—
“I have something of yours….” A gruff whisper.
“What?” Max blinked and then ran a hand down his face. “Who is this?”
“If you want him back, you’ll make sure I get my payment.”
“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but this conversation is over.” Too late for this shit.
Samantha stilled in the hallway. He caught the flash of her hip, the curve of her sweet ass.
“Don’t call again, got me?” Max started to drop the phone.
“How much is your brother’s life worth?” That same damn whisper taunted.
It took a moment for understanding to sink in. Brother. His spine snapped straight. “What are you talking about?” he barked.
Laughter. Mocking. Chilling his blood. “I have your brother, and if his old man doesn’t pay, I’ll send him back to you in pieces.”
No, no, this wasn’t happening. This was bullshit. Some sick joke. “You’ve got Quinlan?”
The door squeaked. Not closing this time; opening. Samantha slipped back inside. His gaze shot to her, and Max found her watching him with wide eyes and a pale face.
“If you want Quinlan to keep the blood inside his body, you’ll do what I say.”
Hell. “Let me talk to him, now!”
“You don’t give the orders.”
That drumming in his ears—nearly drowning out the bastard’s words—was that his heart? “You don’t have him,” he said with sudden certainty. Sick freak. “You don’t even know—”
“If you hadn’t been so busy trying to screw the pretty whore on the street, you might have even seen me take him from The Core. You were right there. You could have saved him.”
His fingers nearly smashed the phone. Watching. “Put my brother on the line!”
“No.” Again that twisted laughter. “Just be a good errand boy and do what you’re told. I’ll be sending the old man a message—and you’re going to damn well make sure he pays.”
Joke, had to be a joke—
“You go to the cops, you try to mark the bills, and the ME will be piecing your brother back together for weeks. Got me? Weeks.”
Then the phone went dead.
CHAPTER Four
Max?” Samantha stepped toward him. “Max, what’s going on?”
Very carefully, he set the phone back on the cradle. “You need to leave now.” Quinlan. Shit, how had this happened?
He’d read an article in the paper about that guy, Briar. The poor bastard had been nearly sliced apart and then left outside his parents’ house. But Jesus, that had been over in Maryland. Not in D.C., not—
Max jumped from the bed and started yanking on his clothes. “Leave, Samantha.” She couldn’t be here for this. He didn’t want her anywhere near the nightmare that was about to come calling on him.
Taken.
He had to get to Frank’s place. Hold on, Quinlan. Just hold on.
Max spun around and nearly slammed into Samantha. Her hands reached up and locked around his shoulders. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Family issue. That’s all.” Max pulled away from her. He hurried into the hall and scooped up her shirt, then he tossed it back to her. “Playtime’s over.”
Her eyes narrowed at that, and he knew he was being a bastard, but he had to get away from her. Can’t let this touch her. “The next time you’re looking for a fast f**k, baby, give me a call, but—”
“Stop it!” Red stained her cheeks. “I heard you. You know I did!” She took a step toward him, a furrow between her brows. Her voice lowered as she asked, “Someone has your brother? Someone has kidnapped Quinlan?”
He just stared back at her.
“What do they want?” Whispered now. Afraid.
That same fear was in his heart, twisting and turning along with a fury that flamed too hot. “I don’t know yet.” His mouth had gone bone dry.
Samantha pulled the shirt over her head. Her soft curls tangled around her face. “They’ll call you again, right? If we stay here, they’ll call…” She hurriedly finished dressing.
He shook his head. Wasting time. “I have to get to my stepfather’s.” He swung away from her. “The a**hole on the phone said there’d be a message….” But when would it come? And just what would he want?
Money, obviously, but how much? Frank Malone was worth so damn much money. Malone’s first wife had been one of those rich, old-money types, and when she died all of her fortune had gone straight to Frank.
No matter how much the bastard wanted, Max would make sure that Frank paid. Max wasn’t going to let his brother wind up like Briar. “I think it’s the same ones,” he muttered, not looking back. “Like that guy in the paper.”
“You don’t know that for certain,” her voice came with a fast, hard snap, and he stopped in surprise.
Samantha circled him, forcing him to stare at her. “You don’t know anything about these people. This could just be a hoax, a trick, somebody who saw the story in the papers and who wants to screw with you.”
If only. “The guy on the phone—he saw us at The Core.”
Her lips parted in surprise.
“He was there, baby. He saw you, he saw me, and he took my brother while I was so distracted by you I could hardly breathe.” He stared into her deep eyes, eyes so wide and open, and for a second, a dark suspicion twisted in his soul.
They’d met so suddenly. She’d come on so strong.
Then she’d just appeared at the D.C. party. With me and Quinlan.
And she’d been at The Core, with me and Quinlan.
Samantha had been there last night, and tonight…
Frank Malone would pay nothing if Max disappeared. Max wasn’t real flesh and blood, so the old man wouldn’t give a shit about him. The money—the family money—was all tied to Quinlan.
“The guy said he’d been following you?” Real surprise flashed over her delicate features.
He grabbed his keys. “Go home. I don’t have time for—”
“I’m coming with you!” Fast, tumbling words. “Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re doing, I’m coming.”
He glanced up in time to see Samantha snatch up her shoes. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” she told him.
Max shook his head. “You don’t know what—”
Her fingers wrapped around his. “You don’t know what’s coming either. But you don’t need to be alone.”
His jaw clenched.
“Either you let me come with you or I’ll follow you, so just accept—”
“They could still be watching. Shit, they are watching. That a**hole on the phone, he told me if I went to the cops, I’d get my brother back in pieces!”
She flinched. “Max, you should—”
“Did you read the headlines? Did you see what they did to that other poor bastard?” The guy had suffered for a long time. “They’ll do it.” His eyes squeezed shut for an instant. Worry and guilt ate at him. “I was right there, and I didn’t even see them take him.”
“This isn’t your fault!”
“I’m getting Quinlan back. I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m getting my brother back.” His gaze met hers.
Samantha just stared at him, her expression worried. She doesn’t think I’ll ever see him again.
And deep down, he was afraid of the same damn thing.
Max drove fast. Too fast. The seatbelt cut into Sam’s shoulder as he rounded a too-sharp curve, and her breath hissed out. Her fingers were shoved in her purse, and she was sending the text on her phone as quickly as she could.
And she was hoping like hell that Max was so focused on the road and so distracted by his brother’s abduction that he wouldn’t notice what she was doing.
Hurry, hurry. Her fingers tapped quickly even as her stomach twisted.
He told me if I went to the cops, I’d get my brother back in pieces! Max’s words wouldn’t stop playing through her head.
If he knew who she really was… If he knew what she was doing…
No choice. This was her job.
And Quinlan’s life.
Sam sent the message and knew that she’d lost her lover.
Luke Dante’s phone beeped, a slow, deep tone that told him a message had come through for him. It was piss late, and he was comfortable, satiated, and in bed with the woman he loved.
Not just in bed with her. Three weeks ago, he’d moved in with her. Next step is marriage, baby. Get ready. Before Monica realized it, he’d have her bound to him for life.
And he wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything less.
For an instant, he thought about ignoring the text for a few hours, just until the sun slipped into the sky. He wanted to see the sun rise with Monica. The woman had a killer view from her bedroom. Much better than he’d had at his apartment. Not that he’d spent many mornings there.
