Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(17)

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*cking 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 hips arched. Her climax 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.