Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(53)

Her hand eased down her body, and her fingers pressed between her legs, right over the tight ache that had her quivering.

“Now.” Max pushed her back. “I can’t wait, baby. I need you now.”

Sam glanced up, swiping her tongue over her lips as she enjoyed that last taste.

A muscle flexed along his jaw, and he pulled her up onto the couch. Then his fingers were pushing her panties to the side and driving knuckles-deep into her body.

Her knees pushed into the couch cushions. “Yes. That feels so good…”

“It’s about to be better.” And one hand yanked out his wallet. She caught sight of the foil packet. Sam took it from him and opened the condom.

She rolled the protection over his straining length. Sam braced her hands on Max’s chest, being careful not to touch his shoulder, then slowly, so slowly, she eased down.

His cock stretched her, filled her, and… perfect.

She began to move. Up. Down. Not too fast. Not too rough.

“Not… easy.” Max’s hands locked around her waist. He lifted her, taking over the rhythm. Making it faster, driving ever harder into her.

She forgot about his shoulder. She felt only… him.

Sam arched forward. His cock slid along her clit, and the rush of sensation jolted through her.

Again.

Another thrust. One that had her sex clamping around him.

Sam stared into Max’s eyes and saw the same desperate desire she felt.

She kissed him. Their tongues met as he thrust into her once more. She came, gasping against his lips. His hips lifted, pushed, again, again…

When he came, she held him tight. So tight because she didn’t want to let him go.

Unfortunately, she knew that was exactly what she’d have to do.

There was no time for soft touches after sex. No tender words. They dressed. She checked her weapon, and they left—all in silence.

Silence… when Sam had so much to say.

I need you. Don’t leave me. Trust me again. I won’t let you down. We will get Quinlan back.

But she didn’t speak then because Sam didn’t want to make a promise she might not be able to keep.


Sam didn’t take Max to The Core. No real point in that. Other FBI agents would already have staked out that bar, waiting, hoping to see the blonde.

So she and Max went to the other bars she’d mapped that fit the profile. One after the other. They questioned waitresses and bartenders and tried to find out if anyone else had seen the blonde with the knife tattoo.

The problem was that there were too many young blondes in the city. And when people were drinking, they didn’t exactly pay close attention to the folks around them.

Their sixth stop was a club called Express. Loud. Smokey. A band shrieked onstage, and dancers crammed the small floor. Sam made her way to the bar and did her usual routine of slapping the counter and leaning forward to talk to the bartender. “We’re looking for a woman,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the roar of music.

When Sam flashed her badge, the redhead with the pierced nose and eyebrow stared back at her with vague interest. Tattoos lined the woman’s arm. Snakes. Blades.

“She’s blonde.” Max crowded in beside her. “Around twenty-one—”

“And she’s got a tattoo on her right shoulder. A small knife,” Sam said and hoped the tat would click, because from the looks of things, this woman knew her tats.

The bartender didn’t blink. “Don’t know her.” Her voice rose a bit.

“It’s important we find her.” Sam slid her card across the bar.

“Why? She in trouble?” Asked too fast.

Sam held her wary stare. “She could be. We need to find her so that we can help her.”

The card wasn’t touched. “Well, good luck with that.” The bartender spun away and grabbed a thick beer mug.

“Fuck. Another one.” Frustration boiled in Max’s voice. “Should we talk to the waitresses? Go to the next bar?”

Sam grabbed his arm. She rose onto her toes and whispered in his ear, “No. We find a dark corner, and we wait.” Then she led him away from the bar. He followed her as she pushed through the crowd. There. The booth to the left. The one that let them see the front door and the back exit.

She pushed him down first, then sidled close to him, real close. “This is it.”

Max stiffened against her. “What?”

“The bartender knows her.” There had been worry in the woman’s voice. A tremor that she hadn’t been able to hide. Sam’s gaze searched the crowd. So dark, hard to see… “If she’s here now, the bartender will tell her about us, and she’ll try to slip out the back.” Her eyes tracked to the front door. “Not that way.” Sam’s nails drummed on the table. “We just have to wait.”

His hand curved into a fist near hers. “I’m not so good at waiting.”

“Not like we have much choice.” She wouldn’t take her gaze off that back door because it would only take a split second of missed concentration, and the woman could disappear. “We can just—”

A slim blonde shoved open the rear exit door. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes sweeping the room. The woman wore a black leather jacket, so no seeing the tattoo, but…