Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(19)

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.

Prefer to be with her.

“You want me to look…” Monica asked, her voice husky from sex and sleep, “or are you getting it?”

Shit. They didn’t have the luxury of ignoring calls. Not with their life.

Even damn doctors got more sleep than they did.

Luke rolled over and turned on the lamp. The soft glow spilled over the bed. “You think they’ve already taken another one?” Fully awake now, Luke growled the question as he reached for the phone. They. The kidnappers who were hunting rich prey.

Monica didn’t speak, but then that was an answer, wasn’t it? Hell.

He touched the screen on the phone. Sam. No, that didn’t make sense. If someone else had been taken, the call would’ve come from Hyde, not her.

“Luke? What is it?”

He scrolled over the screen and pulled up the message.

K has another. Stand by.

“What the f*ck?” K—that had to be the kidnappers. They had another victim and that was all Sam was telling him? What was this shit?

Soft fingers pressed on his shoulder. A light breath eased against his ear. “What’s she doing?” Monica asked as she leaned in close to read the message.

“Hell if I know.” And that scared him. “This isn’t procedure. Sam knows—” Sam knows better than to screw with FBI protocol.

The bed squeaked as Monica eased back. “She does know. Sam knows a lot that most people don’t realize. Take a breath,” she ordered, “and figure out why she contacted you this way. She knows you’re here, so she could have just called the house line.”

He glanced over his shoulder and found Monica watching him with her bright eyes, glinting in the dark. “She… couldn’t talk.” So she’d texted him.

“Because maybe she’s not alone.”

Not again. Not to her. His left hand knotted in the bed sheets. “You think they’ve got—”

“No, Sam’s not the kidnappers’ type,” she immediately reassured him.

But Luke shook his head. “She’s from money, baby. We both know that. Old Boston money. If the perps found out about her, if they know what she’s worth…” Sam had turned her back on that rich life to take the job with the Bureau, but that life was still there, reaching out to her. What if the kidnapper had found the link? It wouldn’t be the first time the perps watched the hunters. Not the first, not the last.

“They take men,” she said quietly, and not a flicker of worry showed on her face. “Sam’s not the target. If she’d been taken, they never would have let her text you.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Her phone.” If he wanted to find Sam or if Sam wanted him to find her, it would be easy enough.

Monica raised a brow and nodded. “Hyde put those handy tracers in all our phones after the Watchman case. To find her, you know all you have to do is activate the trace.” Whether the phone was on or off, the tracer would still work.

Damn straight. He punched in the number for the SSD. While he waited for an agent to answer, Luke’s left hand reached for Monica’s. His fingers curled around hers.


The elaborate house rose before them, huge and stark, as it waited on the hill just beyond the black, electronic gates. Max braked hard, making the car squeal, and he punched in the security code for the gate with hard stabs of his fingers.

“Maybe you should have called first,” Sam said quietly as her gaze scanned the perimeter. A big wall, yes, but no guards, no one actually outside to protect anything. There were two security cameras that she could see perched up on the entrance gates, but those would be easy enough to bypass.

“He wouldn’t have answered.” Hollow. Cold.

Sam frowned. That didn’t sound like Max. Not at all.

The gates opened with a low groan. The Jeep lurched forward, narrowly missing a slash on each side from the gates’ long poles. Somewhere in the distance, dogs snarled and growled.

The vehicle shuddered to a stop in front of an ornate entranceway. Max jumped out and she was right behind him, hurrying up the marble steps as he pounded on the door. “Beth! Jesus, open the door!” he yelled.

Lights flashed on inside the house. Sam eased back so she could look above them.

Max’s fist crashed into the door. “Now!”

But the door didn’t budge.

Sam licked her lips and tightened her hold on her bag. Her ID was in there, her phone—her only way to be traced. “Max, we should—”

The door opened. A tall woman wearing a gauzy blue robe glared at them. “What the hell, Max? Do you know what time it is?”