Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(26)

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 *s 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 wondered 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 *?

“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—”