“Video surveillance at the red light caught the car and license plate. And we just got a hit in the system.” Hyde’s gaze cut to Max. “We’re heading there now, but I thought you might want to come with us.”
“Go with you where?” Samantha asked, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. “Who owns the car?”
Shit. Max answered, the kick in his gut telling him it had to be… “Frank.” And the woman driving the car? Hyde’s suspect?
Beth.
“It’ll never be okay again,” Quinlan spat the words at her, “because I just saw the news. Scott Jacobson is dead. He was taken by the same kidnappers who took me, and he’s dead.”
She let horror wash over her face. It was the reaction that he’d expect. “What? Oh, God, Quinlan, I’m so sorry!”
His left hand flew out and curled around her wrist. The bandages bit into her flesh as he hauled her closer. “I caught the story on TV right before you got here. Max was also targeted. The bomber went after him, but missed.”
Dammit. Not next time, though. She wouldn’t miss again.
“I had almost convinced them,” he muttered, “I had Max’s bitch eating out of my hand. The woman nearly cried for me, and then you went off and you fucked up everything for me.”
Beth blinked, his words slowly sinking in, too slowly. “Wh-what?”
In a flash, he spun her around, and his right arm looped over her body. Her back pressed against his chest. “You’re such a dumb bitch,” he whispered. “Did you really think I was going to stay with you? Did you think if the money was all mine today, I’d keep you?” His breath blew against her hair.
Real fear began to settle in Beth’s stomach. “Quinlan, llet me go.”
The bandaged hand, the hand that she tried not to look at, had her wrist in a too-tight grip.
“You’ve fucked things up,” he said again. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”
OhGodOhGod…
“I guess this…” He took the shard of glass and he slit open her left wrist.
“No!” The scream ripped from her as blood spattered onto the carpet. She shoved back against him, slamming her head into his. “No! Let me go!”
His hold eased. Her wrist and arm throbbed and burned. Quinlan? He’d been the one to bring her into the house. He’d set everything up so that she fit into his world.
He’d even been the one to tell her to screw Frank.
Beth stumbled away from him. He’d cut her deep, a long slash from the base of her palm nearly to her elbow. Her fingers curled in, the tips already numb, and a moan trembled on her lips.
“Did you think I loved you?” he asked softly, and Beth’s knees buckled as she fell to the floor. Her blood stained the gleaming wood, coating her fingers as she tried to crawl away from him.
“I loved you,” she yelled at him. And she had. From that first day, she’d wanted him. Wanted the life that he’d given her.
But he just stared down at her, and she wondered why she’d never seen the ice in his eyes before. Get up. No man would make her crawl. She shoved to her feet, stumbled again, and slipped in the blood. He stood there, watching her with his lips curved in a grin and the bloody glass shard held tight in his hand.
“I killed for you,” she threw back at him. Didn’t he understand? “Why did you—” The drumming of her heartbeat filled her ears. So loud. So fast.
“I needed you to keep an eye on the old bastard. To make sure there were no more changes to his will.” Quinlan glanced down at the bloody glass and his lips twisted. “And then there was the added bonus. Every time he screwed you, my father felt so guilty he could barely look at me.” A rough laugh. “I liked for him to squirm. He hated himself, and he didn’t pay any damn attention to me or the plans I was making.”
Her breath expelled in a hard rush, and the fingers of her right hand pressed over the pulsing wound. Her left hand felt totally numb, and blood was pumping out way too fast. “We can fix this,” she said, desperate. All that money. She’d worked for that money for so long. Screwed. Lied. Killed. The payoff was so close. “Y-you’re upset. You didn’t mean to—”
Quinlan laughed at her. “Beth, I meant to.” He took a step toward her, and Beth couldn’t help it; she fell back.
The money. She needed that money. Needed the new life it would give her. Not a whore’s daughter, not the girl everyone pitied. A new person.
“I’d always planned to kill you,” Quinlan said and took another gliding step toward her. “But I’d planned to wait until the cops weren’t watching my every move.” He lifted the glass. “Change of plans.”
“Bastard!”
He lunged for her. Beth spun away, running for the door and screaming as loud and as long as she could.
Someone had to be there. Donnelley. He never left. He’d be there. He’d be—
Quinlan grabbed her hair, but she kept running for the door. Blood droplets flew into the air, spraying from her wound.
“You’re making a damn mess,” he muttered, “one I’ll have to clean up.”
She twisted the knob and jerked open the door. Her feet sank into the thick carpet.
“Not so fast, bitch.” His fingers closed around her neck.
“Help me!”
“No one will,” Quinlan told her as he wrapped his arm around her and wrenched her tightly against him. He pulled her back into the room. She kicked and twisted but he held her too tightly. Why hadn’t she ever realized how strong he was?
Or maybe she was just getting weak. Because the room was starting to spin, and her face felt too hot, then too cold and—
A hot slice of pain burned her right wrist.
“Have to make it deep enough,” he muttered.
Beth blinked and shook her head. She glanced down at her wrists. Nausea rolled in her stomach at the long, thick slits. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. She was gonna have a big house. A driver. Everyone was gonna envy her.
Beth swung out with her hand. She tried to hit him, but her fingers wouldn’t work. The drumming in her ears was so loud. But not so quick now.
“You’re a fast bleeder, Beth.”
Her legs gave way.
“Wonder how long it will take for you to die.”
Tears tracked down her cheeks. “I-I… killed for… you.”
His smile broke her heart. “And now you’re dead, Beth.”
No, not yet. She pulled in a deep breath. Not yet. Beth kicked out with her leg, aiming hard for his knee.
The sound of sirens filled Sam’s ears. The shrill screams made her head ache even more.
“You all right?” The question came from Hyde. He was right beside her and driving too fast. Max was in the back of the SUV, quiet, tense.
Sam nodded then realized that she should speak. “Fine.” She’d had to fight the EMTs for her freedom, but no way was she going to miss this.
A caravan of FBI agents and cops raced toward Frank Malone’s residence. Going as fast as they could, shooting through intersections, racing over the streets.
“Why?” Max finally asked. It was the first word that he’d spoken since jumping into the SUV. “Why would Beth try to kill me?”
Money.
“The way I see it,” Hyde said, “you’re the only person standing between Beth’s lover and one hell of a lot of money.”
Sam glanced back at him and saw Max’s jaw tighten.
“Why’d she go after Scott Jacobson then?” he demanded. “He wasn’t standing between her and anything!”
“That’s a question I’m going to ask her.” The caravan made a sharp right turn. Hyde drove behind the lead car. “As soon as I have your stepfather’s assistant in custody.”
She’d been a fighter. Quinlan stared down at Beth’s still body as he stripped off his clothes. She hadn’t gone down easy. Beth had fought for every breath.
Not that he’d given her much time to fight.
Naked, he stalked toward Frank’s hidden safe. Still hidden—he’d ma
de sure not to reveal its location as he trashed the room. The safe would make the perfect hiding place for his bloody clothes. No one would get inside for a while. His father had made sure to get a crack-proof safe.
But his father had made the mistake of giving Beth the combination.
Quinlan spun the dial easily and heard the soft snick as the lock opened.
And Beth gave it to me.
He shoved his clothes inside. He’d come back for them later, and he’d burn them. For now, he had to get clean, fast, before the cops showed up.
Thanks to Beth, Quinlan knew they’d be coming. The cops and the dicks from the FBI.
He stepped over Beth’s body. She’d fucked things for him, but he could still finish his plan. Would finish. Nothing, no one, would stop him.
If anyone tried, they’d die.
“Do you think she was part of it all along?” Max wanted to know. “Was she part of this whole sick plan to kidnap them? To take Quinlan?”
Sam wet her lips. The seatbelt bit into her shoulder, rubbing against the same bruised spot that had crashed into the pavement. “Too early to say.”
God, I nearly lost him. She hadn’t been able to move fast enough. Hadn’t been able to get to him. As soon as she’d found out about Jacobson, she’d been terrified for Max. Then she’d heard that peal of sound. Just a cell phone, just a ring…
But Ramirez had told her about his time in the Middle East: how so many bombs were linked to cell phones. One call and the world exploded, thanks to an electronic trigger.
If Sam hadn’t heard that stupid little sound…
I would have lost Max. She’d never forget the sight of him, his eyes intense as he stared at her and fire exploded behind him.
Sam swallowed. Before, she’d feared for her own life. Feared death would come for her—and then that it wouldn’t. But tonight, she’d feared for Max.
Just when she thought that she might be getting a handle on this case, the game changed. Scott Jacobson. Dead? Christ. The guy had come back because he thought that it was safe. He’d been coming to talk to them.
It seemed to take forever to reach the house. Traffic blocked them, and they had to take a detour away from the snarled roads. Then, finally, they reached Malone’s place with brakes squealing and sirens shrieking. And there was Quinlan, standing outside of the house. He was already surrounded by the other agents that Hyde had sent earlier, as well as the team from the bomb squad.
“Quinlan!” Max jumped out of the SUV even before it had fully stopped. He thundered toward his brother. “Dammit, man, where have you been?”
Quinlan blinked and shook his head. Sam hurried toward them even as Hyde barked orders to his men.
“I-I had to clear my head.” Quinlan slammed his car door shut behind him. “After the station…” His gaze swept to Sam. “They thought it was me, Max. Me. I just had to—to get away, you know?”
Max pulled his brother close in a hard hug. “We got trouble, okay? When you saw me call, you should have answered the damn phone.” He stepped back, glaring. “After all that’s happened, you should have—”
“My phone’s dead.” Quinlan shifted from his right foot to his left. “With everything going on, shit, I just forgot to charge it. I saw the shrink this morning. He’s putting me on more meds—”
“Mr. Malone.” Hyde’s voice cut through the ramble of Quinlan’s words. “Have you seen Elizabeth Dunlap today?”
“Beth?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Uh, not since this morning, before I-I went in to your office.”
But the BMW was there, sitting in the drive.
“Have you been inside yet?” Sam asked him as she pulled out her gun. Hyde already had his weapon ready in his hand.
Quinlan shook his head.
“We’re going in the house to search for her.” Hyde was telling Quinlan to stand back.
“I’m coming with you,” Max said immediately.
“Son, this isn’t—”
“Right now, that house is mine.”
Quinlan’s gaze flickered to Max. Sam saw the slight tightening of his eyes.
“Maybe so, but we’ve got just cause, and you’re both staying out here.” Hyde inclined his head toward Max. “We all know what happened the last time a civilian went running into a crime scene.”
Quinlan stepped back. “A… crime scene?”
Max held Hyde’s stare. She could see the fierce anger in his blue gaze.
But Hyde wasn’t backing down. This was his scene. And after a moment, her boss spun away, shouting out orders as the agents lined up.
Sam turned to follow him. Max snagged her wrist. “Watch your back, baby.” A gruff order.
She forced a smile to her lips. “These days, I always do.” She wanted to kiss him right then because fear rode her, too. Fear and rage, and she needed to taste him. They were alive. Nothing was going to come between them. Not now.
But Quinlan was there and watching so closely. And Hyde waited. So she walked away.
When the team went in, she was ready. Her fingers curled tight around the butt of the gun. She kept her weapon up, and her gaze roved the house.
First floor—clear.
She crept up the stairs, keeping her back to the wall. Hyde was in front of her. Their steps moved in almost perfect sync. He called out for Beth.
No response. But then, had they really expected one?
The team made a fast trek down the hallway. Sam pointed to Beth’s room. She’d go in first this time. One, two, three. The door flew open with the force of her kick.
Empty.
The agents spanned out. Searched the rooms. No one appeared to be in the house. Where was everybody? Wasn’t Quinlan supposed to have guards?
Too quiet.
The door to Frank’s room was closed. Sam stared down at the thick carpet around the door, and her nostrils flared. That scent… oh, dammit, she knew that smell.
“Hyde.” Just a whisper, but his head immediately turned toward her. He took two fast steps her way, then she saw his nostrils widen. His jaw clenched. Yes, he’d caught that telltale odor too.
Hyde raised his hand, signaling her. He’d go in first.
She’d cover him. Her heart slammed into her ribs. One. Two. Three.
Hyde kicked the door open. It bounced back, thudding into the wall. He raced inside, crouched low, and Sam swept right in behind him, her body tense, and her weapon ready. Her gaze searched the room, left to right, and her breath hitched when she saw the body.
“Check the room!” Hyde barked as he knelt beside Beth Dunlap.
Sam pulled her gaze from the body and hurried forward. She checked under the bed. Did a sweep of the closets and bathroom. “Clear!” She hurried back to him, already yanking out her radio and calling for backup—backup and an EMT. Though it didn’t look like an EMT would be able to help Beth.
Elizabeth Dunlap lay in the middle of chaos. Shattered furniture. Slashed pictures. A broken mirror littered the floor beside her and her fingertips lay inches away from a long, bloody shard of glass.
Beth’s eyes were closed, but the blood from the gaping wounds on both her wrists stained the floor. So much blood.
Hyde’s dark fingers pressed against Beth’s stark white throat. “Dammit.” He shook his head and rose, staring down at her with shoulders that hunched just a bit. “This wasn’t the way it had to end for her.” His hands tightened into fists. “Death isn’t the only way out.”
Max paced behind the police cruiser. He wanted in that house. Wanted to know what the hell was going on.
Quinlan sat on the hood of a patrol car, his gaze on the house. “What’s taking them so long?”
They’d only been inside mere moments, but it seemed like for-fucking-ever. Max forced his teeth to unclench. “They’re searching for Beth. They have to go over every inch of the house.”
“Man, she really tried to kill you?” Quinlan ran a hand over his face. “Beth?”
“That’s what the Feds say.” He had
n’t seen the footage, but Hyde had been dead certain.
“Aw, man.” Quinlan lowered his head. “What the hell is going on? Nothing seems right anymore. Everything is just so screwed up.” A shuddering breath eased from him. “Beth.”
He stared at Quinlan’s slumped shoulders. They hadn’t talked much since Quinlan had gotten out of the hospital. Every time he approached him, Quinlan seemed to withdraw. “Are you okay?”
Quinlan’s head lifted, and his gaze met Max’s. “I’m gettin’ by.” His lips twisted, and it was a sad sight. “Just when I think everything’s gettin’ back to normal.” A harsh laugh. “But it’ll never be normal again, will it?”
No. Max wouldn’t lie to him.
“How did you do it?” Quinlan asked as he moved away from the cop car. Max caught the slight wince on his stepbrother’s face and knew that the stitches must have been pulling at his skin. “After you killed that guy, how’d you stop the memory from driving you crazy?”
Max tensed. “What are you talking about?” He’d never told Quinlan. There’d never been a need. Frank had made sure his records were sealed. No one in this town—other than the Feds storming his stepfather’s house—knew about his past.
Quinlan crept closer. “I know. I know. Frank told me about you years ago.”
“He shouldn’t have said anything.”
“He thought you were a damn hero.” Max glanced over and caught the narrowing of Quinlan’s eyes. “You killed a man, and he thought you were a hero. Wonder what he’d think of me?”
Max just stared at him.
“No hero.” Quinlan’s hand bunched into a fist. “So what the hell kind of man am I?”
Max tried to figure out what to say.
“Max!” He turned at Samantha’s voice. She ran toward him, her face pale. She dodged a few cops. Slipped past the line of cars.
He left Quinlan and hurried to her. Max caught Samantha’s hands and held on tight. “What is it? What happened?”
Her gaze darted behind him. He glanced back. Quinlan was there and moving slowly toward them. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the words were directed at Quinlan. “But Beth Dunlap is dead.”
Quinlan froze. “What?”