Now she knew that she hadn’t been the only one hunting that night.
“Just one more?” she asked him. She couldn’t think about all the things they’d done. All they would do.
She had to focus on survival. Hers. Theirs.
Surival and money. All of that wonderful money would be waiting for her.
He smiled, and it was the same crooked grin that had first caught her attention. “We’ve almost got enough cash for the group. We’ll ditch this fucking town and start over.”
Money. That was what it was all about for her. To finally have enough that she could do whatever she wanted.
His lips skimmed her jaw. Sometimes, he could be so gentle.
And sometimes…
Veronica swallowed and leaned toward him. Her eyes drifted closed.
“You’re with me until the end, aren’t you, love?” He whispered.
She nodded against him.
“I can trust you,” his fingers caught her chin and tipped back her head, “and you can trust me.”
Veronica’s eyes opened.
“You do trust me?” he pressed.
“Yes.” Veronica knew just how dangerous he was, but… not to me. He wouldn’t hurt her. He loved her. He wanted to marry her.
And they were going to be so fucking rich.
She licked her lips. The blood washes away. “I love you,” she told him. He was right. They’d start over again, free and clear, with a shitload of cash. No one would know about the past, and there’d be no blood on her hands ever again.
The phone call didn’t come at ten o’clock. Max stared at the phone on his stepfather’s desk, willing it to ring.
Samantha sat in the chair across from him. Frank was in the den, drinking, having a breakdown—who the hell knew what he was really doing?
“What did you tell them?” Max asked Samantha, forcing his gaze to her.
Her chin lifted. “I let the agent in charge know a victim had been taken, who he was.”
“How.”
“I sent him a text on the way here.”
Ballsy.
“Then I sent him another when we were upstairs, right after the call came.”
And right under his nose. Talk about being a blind idiot. Why wouldn’t the phone ring? Why? He’d been a piss-poor brother, he knew that. He and Quinlan had never gotten along like they should have, but—
But his mom’s last words to him had been, “Watch him.” A week before she’d died, she’d given him her order, and she’d never spoken to him again. Never opened her blue eyes again.
One thing. All she’d ever asked him to do. To watch over the brother that blood hadn’t given him.
And he’d screwed that up. Max exhaled on a long sigh. “I had you wrong, didn’t I?”
“I don’t… know what you mean,” Samantha said hesitantly.
Ten-oh-three a.m.
His gaze sharpened on her. “I thought you were weak. That you were running scared.” The nightmare flashed in his mind. He’d actually wanted to protect her that night. What an idiot. “But I guess it was just some game to you.” His fingers curled around the edge of the desk. “How many men?”
Her brows lifted. “What?”
“How many men have you picked up in bars? How many men have you asked for sex, but not forever? I mean, is that some line you like to use?” Pretty effective.
She leapt out of the chair. “You don’t know me. Do not say—”
“The truth? It can hurt, can’t it?” Why had he been so addicted to her? Why was he still so addicted? He looked, and even in the middle of this twisted hell, he wanted her. He could still taste her on his tongue and smell her on his skin.
You don’t know her.
Sex. That was all they’d had. Sex and lies.
A knock rapped at the door.
Max rose and stormed around the edge of the desk. “Come in!”
Samantha stepped in front of him. She lifted to her tip-toes and kissed him.
His hands came up automatically and clamped down on her arms. The kiss was angry, fierce. Her mouth was closed. His was—
No.
Her lips opened. Softened. Her tongue snaked out, licked across his, and the growl in his throat burst out as he dragged her closer. The furious tension that had been riding him snapped, and for just that moment, he wanted her in his arms, her mouth on his, her breasts against him as—
Samantha’s mouth tore from his. She kissed his jaw, pressing her lips against the line of stubble that he knew would be rough. Her lips feathered over him, and then her breath blew lightly at his ear.
“Whatever you feel…” Her soft whisper slid right through him. “Whatever you think about me… to everyone else, we have to be lovers.”
Because everyone was watching.
His head lifted. His hands still held her, but his control was back. Razor thin, but fueled by the fire of understanding.
She didn’t touch me, didn’t kiss me because she wanted me.
Business. Before, it had just been pleasure.
“Ah… excuse me…” A deep voice he’d never heard before interrupted.
Samantha turned, and Max’s eyes zeroed in on the doorway. A man stood there. He was clad in dusty jeans and a loose white t-shirt. His blond hair was mussed, and he held a stack of files in his hand. “I’ve got those guest house designs you needed, boss…”
Boss?
The guy began to close the door. “Yeah, I told Mr. Johnson we could get started today, but he said—”
The door shut with a click.
The man tossed the files onto the nearest chair. He crossed his arms and his green gaze shot to Samantha. “Are you okay?”
She nodded slowly.
Max’s gut clenched as the guy’s stare jumped between them. “Who…” Max began, stepping forward, “are you?” Just after ten o’clock… maybe they weren’t getting a phone call. Maybe they were just getting a visit.
Since it was the weekend, most of the staff weren’t working. Only Beth and Donnelley and one security guard were there. Hell, he should’ve had more security. He should’ve—
“He’s Special Agent Luke Dante,” Samantha said into the silence. “He’s the lead agent currently working the serial kidnappings.”
Max’s hands clenched. “Was one agent in the house not enough? Why don’t you just start slicing Quinlan up your damn selves?” This dick had strolled right in the front door, when he knew they were supposed to stay away from the cops and—
“No one knows who I am,” Luke Dante drawled. “To anyone watching, I’m just another crewman on your team. You did have plans to start work on a guesthouse for Tyler Johnson this week, didn’t you?”
What? How had he—
“As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I’m part of the crew you scheduled for that site. And when I leave here, I’m going to make damn sure no one follows me, so that’s all anyone will ever know.”
“I don’t want you here,” Max told him bluntly. Everything was out of control. And the phone wasn’t ringing.
A fast nod from Dante. “Understood. Hell, I’d feel the same way in your position.”
“You don’t know my position,” Max said, voice tight.
“Sure I do.” He shrugged. “You’re the stepbrother, the one Quinlan wants to be like, the one your mother doted on. You’re the one the victim would turn to for help, probably the only one around here that he counts on, and right now, you’re feeling like shit because you think you signed your brother’s death warrant.”
“Pretty good,” Samantha murmured. “That from you or Monica?”
But Max snapped, “You’re the assholes signing the death warrant. They said no cops!”
“They don’t know I’m here.” Luke’s gaze was on Samantha. “And I’m guessing they have no clue who you are.”
She shook her head.
“Girlfriend?”
She blushed. Blushed.
The agent whistled quietly. “I wondere
d how you fit in. That’s one lucky break, Sam.”
Sam. Too familiar. Just who was this guy to Samantha? There was something there, warmth and affection, in his eyes. If she’d wanted a lover, why not him?
Why had she gone trolling at the bar?
“You know what Hyde says…” Dante began.
Who was Hyde?
“There aren’t any coincidences,” she finished. “He’s right. I met Max while I was canvassing possible target bars in the area.”
The male agent hesitated. “You sure you weren’t made?”
“No one knows.” Samantha glanced over at Max with a flicker of her dark eyes. “Even he didn’t—” She swallowed. “Max just found out.”
Another whistle. “Bet that’s a real bitch, huh?”
Who was this asshole?
“We don’t have much time, so I need you to listen carefully…” Dante’s stare pinned Max. “What did the kidnappers tell you?”
Max rocked back on his heels. “That I’d be getting another phone call. One I should have gotten ten minutes ago.”
“It’s a scare tactic,” Dante dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Same way, every time. You won’t hear back from them for at least two more hours. They want you to sweat. They want you to worry.”
Max was doing both. “How many have been taken?”
“Quinlan makes five.” Samantha’s instant answer.
“And how many came back alive?”
No instant answer. Not from either of them. “Samantha?”
A soft sigh slipped from her lips. “Two.” She shoved back the hair that had fallen over her forehead. “You know about Briar. His father refused to pay.”
“And they sliced up his son. Yeah, heard that.” Tension had his gut clenching. “What happened to the other guy? Why didn’t he make it back? Why—”
“The ransom drop was made with marked bills,” Dante told him quietly. “The kidnappers had been watching the house. They knew the cops were involved. They knew the bills weren’t clean. So they gave the man back but…” his shoulders rolled as if he were shaking off a bad memory, “not in one piece.”
“Max…” Samantha’s husky voice.
Max held up his hand. “You know the way they operate.” The kidnappers had been watching the house. His thundering heartbeat filled his ears. “You know… and you’ve both put my brother’s life on the line?” His eyes narrowed on Dante. “Get the hell out of this house.”
Agent Dante didn’t move. “We know the way they operate, and we’re trying to stop them and save lives.”
Max could only shake his head. The guy didn’t get it. And Samantha—Sam—he didn’t want to think about her.
“You’re going to stay with him,” Dante said to Samantha, and it seemed like an order. Wait, he was the lead agent, so it was an order.
“No way.” Max could give orders too. “She leaves with you.” Because he was done with whatever game she was playing. The FBI could go screw off.
Dante crossed his arms over his chest. “I understand this is a difficult time for you, Mr. Ridgeway, but you need our help.”
Not from where he was standing. He needed them to get lost.
Dante’s attention shifted back to Samantha. “You’ve already got a cover here, Sam. Use it. Stay close and keep your eyes and ears open. When you learn something, you let us know.” Now his sharp gaze swung back to Max. “Mr. Ridgeway, I assure you that the kidnappers will not know about the SSD’s involvement. You’re in the clear.”
He’d better be.
“But this is the best chance we have to stop these perps. We can’t force your compliance, but…”
But the guy would really like to. Yeah, he could see that.
“But we can put you under a protective detail. And that is something we could force.” A nod toward Samantha. “Either way, Agent Kennedy isn’t leaving your side.”
Not a threat. Not blackmail. Just a fact.
Dammit. “Does it matter to you? If this gets my brother killed, does it matter to you?”
Samantha flinched but Dante didn’t bat an eyelash. “All the victims matter to me. That’s why I’m in this business. You might not like the way we work—”
“I fucking don’t.” Protective detail. Right. He could always just have them both thrown out—he could throw them out. But if someone was watching, that person would see what was happening, and Max didn’t want to risk that exposure.
“Just play it cool,” Dante advised him. “Listen to Sam. She won’t steer you wrong.”
What? He was supposed to trust her? When she’d already lied to him?
“Report when they make contact,” Dante told Sam. “We’ll set up surveillance for the drop.”
Max’s mouth opened to protest.
“They won’t know.” Dante rushed to assure him. “You’ll get your brother back, Mr. Ridgeway, and we’ll get the men who took him.”
Promises, promises.
“Can you handle this?”
Max blinked. “Don’t worry about me, I can—”
“Sam?” The agent cut through his words.
Her chin lifted a notch. “I’ve got it.”
Dante grabbed the files. “Are you in, Ridgeway?”
Samantha touched his arm. “There’s no other option now. I’m here.”
Because she’d tricked him. He wouldn’t forget that.
But now Frank would have to act. They’d get the money, and they’d damn well get Quinlan back.
Get him back in pieces. The bastard’s voice seemed to whisper through Max’s mind as he stepped away from Sam. “If Quinlan dies, I’ll destroy the SSD.”
Samantha flinched. “I want to get him back for you.”
But she wasn’t promising that she would get him back.
“Trust us to do our jobs,” Dante said. “We’ll have eyes on you from now on. When you go to make the exchange, we will be there.”
“And if they see you?” Max demanded. “What then?”
“They won’t.” Certainty from Dante. “We know what we’re doing, and believe me, we have agents who specialize in not being seen.”
“Ramirez,” Samantha murmured.
Dante nodded. “Our agents will follow the kidnappers after the drop. They’ll track them back to their hole, and they will recover your brother.”
The guy was obviously confident, but then, it wasn’t Dante’s brother on the line.
Dante’s gaze searched his face. “Now do we have your cooperation on this?”
Not like Max had any other options. He inclined his head in a grim nod.
Samantha’s hand fell away from his arm. “Thank you,” she whispered.
His jaw locked.
“You made the right decision.” Dante turned toward the door. “Be careful, you two. I’ll be watching.”
“Luke, you need to know, Quinlan was taken from The Core,” Samantha said.
That stopped the other agent, and he glanced back at her. “You sure about that?”
“I’m sure,” Max answered.
“I was at The Core right before he vanished. If we’d stayed just a little longer…” She shook her head. “We need to get agents in that bar. Curtis Weatherly also visited that place shortly before he vanished. The Core is a link.”
Dante nodded. “I’ll get Ramirez and Daniels to talk to the staff again. We interviewed them all before and ran background checks, but everyone turned up clean.” His head inclined. “So we’ll just look deeper, and we’ll make sure we keep our eyes on that place.”
Shouldn’t have left Quinlan. Guilt ate at Max’s gut. If he hadn’t left his brother in The Core…
“I can get some plainclothes cops in there ASAP,” Dante continued. “We’ll keep a surveillance team in The Core from now on.”
A little too late to help Quinlan.
Dante rolled his shoulders and yanked open the door. “S-sorry, boss. Didn’t realize you were… occupied.” His southern drawl was thicker, his posture a bit weaker. “I?
??ll come back later.”
“You do that,” Max called out, voice tight.
And then the guy was gone.
• • •
Sam slipped upstairs when Max and Frank were on the telephone again with the bank. She moved as quickly and quietly as she could. Her gaze darted into the rooms, scanning, searching—
There.
The closed door. The one at the end of the long hallway. Quinlan Malone still had a room at his father’s house.
She twisted the knob, and the door opened silently. Sam didn’t turn on the lights. No need. The computer sat waiting for her, right in the middle of Quinlan’s gleaming glass desk.
Sam closed the door behind her. The bedroom was huge, more of a suite than just one room, but… there was nothing personal there. No pictures. No ball caps. No books or magazines. No intimate touches.
A bed with a black bedspread. A chest of drawers. The desk—so neat and organized.
And the laptop. Just waiting.
Like a hotel room. Ready for any guest, not a particular person. Shaking her head, Sam eased into the chair and booted up the computer. Time to get to work. She’d start with Quinlan’s laptop and use a batch script to crack the network encryption. Once she had enabled remote access to the systems in the house, the computers would be hers. Then she’d access all the e-mail accounts and scan the drives to see just what sort of information the Malones and their staff might be hiding.
The computer beeped as the system came online. Then the password screen came up.
For the first time that day, Sam smiled. This was her favorite part of the job.
• • •
“Sir, are you sure you want to make a f-five million dollar cash withdrawal?” The banker’s voice quivered over the speaker phone.
Frank’s stare held Max’s. “Yes.”
“I’ll draw up the paperwork,” John Adams said, “but this is going to take some time, sir. I can’t have the money ready for at least forty-eight hours.”
“Now,” Max mouthed.
“I need the money now,” Frank ordered. “Cut the paperwork bullshit, John, and get my money ready, understand?”
“There’s no way I can get that amount ready before—”