Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(51)

She held up her hand, stopping him before he could speak. “Since you’ve moved in with me, things are—” More intense. Deeper. “Good,” she said instead, because it was the truth. “Better than good.” She was the happiest that she could ever remember being.

He caught her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “For me, too.”

“I’m afraid.” Her admission was hushed.

He shifted closer to her. “Of what?”

With him, she could always be honest. “Good things don’t always last long for me. My life isn’t about picket fences and happy endings. It’s not—”

“It can be,” he said, voice firm, as he cut across her words. “Your life, our life, can be anything we want.” His gaze burned with intensity. “I was going to wait on this but… dammit, I love you, Monica, and I don’t just want to live with you. I want to marry you.”

And she lost her breath.

“Dante!” Hyde’s voice cut through the hallway. “I need you to prep for the press conference. We’ve got to explain how the cops let Adam Warrant walk out of that bar. Dammit, we need Kenton Lake in here for this shit.”

But Luke didn’t move. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he told her softly. “You won’t lose me.”

And that was her fear. Ever since the Watchman case, she’d known that Luke was her weakness. When she thought about something happening to him, dark terror washed through her.

“Dante!”

She swallowed. “Go. We’ll talk—”

“Soon,” Luke promised, eyes glittering, then he walked away.

I want to marry you.

“Yes,” Monica whispered and knew that when the time was right, she’d tell Luke.

No more fear.


Frank Malone wasn’t used to being kept in the dark. And he sure as shit wasn’t used to being stuck in some eight-by-ten room while agents asked him the same damn questions over and over again.

Sweat beaded his brow, and he glared at the door. Five more minutes, five more, and he was getting out of there. The agents had been gone too long. They had already f*cked things up, and if he didn’t get his son back—

The phone on his hip vibrated. He hauled it up to his ear. “Look, I can’t talk now—”

“You’d better.” A soft whisper. Familiar.

Frank’s gaze flew to the mirror on the left-hand side of the wall.

“I know where you are, Frank.” Anger there, throbbing in that whisper. “And that makes me very, very pissed off.”

Frank swallowed. “Wh-wher—”

“Don’t talk, *. Just listen. I don’t want them hearing what you say.”

Frank shut up.

“You gave me your money, every dime I wanted, but you screwed me over.”

Fear nearly choked him.

“Guess who’s going to pay for that?”

“Not—”

“Told you to shut up!”

His lips clamped together, and he turned away from the mirror, hunching his shoulders.

“Quinlan told me about you.” Low, grating.

Frank clenched his teeth.

“A real dick of a father, huh? Screwed around on his mom, his stepmom, and even screwed his girlfriend.”

Frank swiped a hand over his forehead.

“He thinks you’re gonna let him die.”

No, no, Quinlan was the only thing that he had in this world. His blood.

“I started cutting him.”

Bile rose in Frank’s throat. “D-don’t—” He bit back the word.

“He screamed, and he begged me to stop.” A soft laugh. “Your boy’s a bleeder, but you know that, don’t you?”

An image of red flashed through his mind, and his whole body shuddered. Quinlan.

“A couple more slashes with my knife, and he’ll be gone.”

“No.” Frank couldn’t hold back the whisper.

“Doesn’t seem right. I mean, you were the one who messed up the trade, not that piece of crap son you have.”

“Then take me,” he rasped.

More laughter. “You just can’t shut the hell up, can you?”

Frank’s eyes darted around the room. He had to get out of there. Had to go—

“I’ll take you. You for him, old man. A sweet trade.” Silence, then, “Is he worth that much? Is he worth your life?”

Frank turned and stared into the mirror. He saw the lines and the white hair, the age spots that dotted his skin. What did he have? After all these years, what did he have? Money, hell yes, and he’d enjoyed the shit out of his fortune, but…

Alone.

Ever since Katie had died, he’d been so alone. Even the pills couldn’t ease the ache inside him.

The only thing I have…

Quinlan.

So the answer, the only answer he had was, “Yes.”

“Then get out of there, bastard. Get away from those agents, and I’ll trade your son for your life.”

A soft click sounded in his ear. He stared in the mirror. Had they seen? They couldn’t know. They couldn’t.

He lifted his chin. He was Fuck ’em Frank. He could do anything that he wanted.