Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(35)

Then Max stepped even closer, and her back rammed against the wall.

Be strong. Don’t do this. Stop backing down.

“Guess that was your Special Agent on the phone.” Max’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “And let me guess; he’s been digging around in my past.”

“I-it’s procedure.” It was. “Family members and close acquaintances always have to be-be investigated.” Killer.

Max? No, he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. He’d held her when she woke up screaming in the night.

His hands rose and trapped her against the wall. “Big tough agent,” he murmured. “But you’re so scared right now, you’re shaking.” His eyes held hers. “Does it make you afraid, knowing how close you are to a killer?”

“St-stop it.”

His lips grazed her jaw. “You said killers all belong in cages, right? But you let me touch you. Let me taste every part of you.”

She brought her hands up and pressed them against his chest. He didn’t move.

“You had sex with a killer,” Max continued.

Sam shoved him back. “Get away from me!” The order came as nearly a scream when it should have been a controlled order. But she was shattering from the inside out. Max didn’t know, couldn’t know. Her secrets were hers. No one had dug them up.

“You wanted me closer before.” How could blue eyes look so dark? “You all but begged me to get closer.”

She attacked. Her hands balled into fists. Sam slammed her shoulder into his mid-section even as she struck out with her right hand. Take him down. Take him out.

They crashed to the floor. Max grunted at the impact and his hands came up.

Fight back, fight—

He grabbed her wrists, rolled and twisted so that she was under him. Sam head-butted him and bucked, kicking out with her feet. No, not done yet, not out. She was strong. Stronger.

“You won’t hurt me anymore!” The words burst from her as the past tangled with the present. “I won’t beg. I won’t—”

“Shit, Samantha, for Christ’s sake, stop!”

A fist pounded on the door. “What the hell is happening in there?” Frank roared.

The doorknob rattled. She’d locked the door automatically to secure the room.

Max’s breath panted out as he stared down at her. No fury glittered in his gaze. Worry. A touch of fear. For her.

Broken. Oh, no, oh God, no—if Hyde found out what she’d just done—

“We’re fine,” Max yelled, but his hold on her didn’t loosen. “Just leave us alone!”

She could feel Frank’s hesitation, but after a few beats of silence, she heard the thuds of his fading footsteps.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and her head fell back against the carpet. What had she done? And why?

“You’re not what you pretend to be,” Max said, voice rumbling as the fingers holding her began to stroke her in long, slow glides. Trying to soothe. “You’re not the tough agent, are you?”

She wanted to be.

He lowered her hands to the carpet, but kept his caressing hold. “Someone hurt you,” he said with certainty and, finally, with the anger that she’d expected.

Her lashes lifted. “Let me go.” They’d make it through tonight. Somehow, some way, they’d make it through. After the exchange tomorrow, she’d tell Hyde what happened. She couldn’t protect Max—not when she was the one attacking him.

And Hyde would see that he’d been right. She shouldn’t be back on duty. She wasn’t ready. Not even close.

“Were you raped?” he asked with his body flush against hers, strong muscles tight.

Sam jerked beneath him. I-I’ll do any-anything! Just d-don’t… “No,” she whispered. The truth. That bastard hadn’t been interested in sex. Just fear. “Let me up.”

“You’re crying,” Max told her, and his voice was… odd.

She couldn’t stop the tears. They just trickled down. Why couldn’t she be like Monica? Monica would never cry. She’d look at the killers, she’d rip them apart, and then she’d go right about her business.

Max released her wrists, and his callused fingertips brushed away her tears. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs.

Slowly, he rose off her and stood. Max reached a hand down for her, and she took it, noticing the tremble in her own fingers. “After the drop-off, a new agent will be assigned to your case.” The words were wooden but she just had nothing left right then. She stood on legs that felt too weak. “I-I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did.”

She exhaled and realized that he still he held her hand. “I’ll report the incident immediately and…” And what? What would she do?

“I was a dick,” Max said, and her gaze snapped up to snag his. “I was furious, and I struck out first.” He inclined his head toward her. “There’s nothing to report.”

She’d attacked him. In her book, that counted as something.

“You didn’t hurt me, baby, and something tells me, if an FBI agent really wanted to take someone down, she could.”

A bitter laugh slipped from her lips. “Maybe she couldn’t.” Because she hadn’t been able to get away before. And she sure hadn’t been smart enough to see the devil coming for her.