Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(54)

“Is that her?” Max asked, his entire body tensing.

Sam was already on her feet. “Only one way to find out.” She stepped forward, her holster a steady weight at her side.

He rose beside her. They were less than ten feet from the door.

The blonde’s gaze slid right past Sam, but then she saw Max. In that instant, fear flashed across the woman’s pretty face, and she spun away, rushing out into the night.

“She knows you.” The blonde had recognized Max, and she’d run. As a rule, the innocent didn’t usually run.

As a rule.

Sam took off after her. She raced forward, intent on the door—and slammed into the bartender. The woman had rushed out in front of Sam and knocked her down. Drinks tumbled onto the ground and broken glass bit into Sam’s arm.

“Oh, didn’t see you…” The bartender murmured, fake innocence in her voice but a grim smile on her lips. Sam cursed and shoved the woman to the side.

Max grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling her to her feet. Seconds later, she and Max tore through the back door. The cool night air hit her, and she heard the fast rapping of high heels on the pavement. With no time to call for backup, Sam sucked in a deep breath and chased her prey.


Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.

The FBI was after her. The FBI and him. If Gina hadn’t given her that warning…

Veronica James threw a glance over her shoulder. How had they found her? She was supposed to be safe. Untouchable. He’d promised her. Promised.

Veronica had to get out of there. Her car was parked three blocks up from Express. She could cut back around, sneak down the alley, and get away. Gina had agreed to buy her some time, so she should damn well be able to make it.

Veronica’s heart slammed into her ribs as she ran. She hated running. Already her side stung and her breath choked out. Damn asthma, soon she’d be choking, trying to gulp in air.

Footsteps thudded behind her. Close, closing in.

No.

They couldn’t catch her. That wasn’t the way things were going to end. She wasn’t going to jail. She was going to an island. She’d be a rich bitch and drink pi?a coladas on a beach for the rest of her days. No more poor white trash. No more rich frat boys looking down their stuck-up noses at her.

She’d earned her new life, and no one was taking it away from her.

“Stop!” A woman’s voice. The redhead who’d been with him. “I’m with the FBI, and I’m ordering you—stop!”

Veronica threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Her right foot stumbled. She almost went down. Almost. But this wasn’t the first time that she’d had to run like hell through the night. She ditched her shoes and ran faster.

She snaked into the alley. Her breath wheezed out. She’d make it. Veronica knew there was no choice. Not going down for murder.

Mike was already dead. She’d seen the story on the news. The drop had been screwed, and those agents had shot him. They wouldn’t be able to identify him, though, not for a while. Mike had always skated right past the cops. Not this time.

Mike was gone, but Kevin was still out there, and she’d always been able to count on Kevin. She’d meet him at the warehouse, and they’d lay low until some of the heat cooled off.

Someone grabbed her. A hand slapped over Veronica’s mouth and closed off the ragged gasp of her breath.

“Don’t move.” At his familiar whispered voice, she sagged. He shouldn’t have been there. They weren’t supposed to meet—but, oh, damn, she was glad to have him with her in the dark.

He pulled her deeper into the alley and shoved her behind the garbage bin. He kept one hand around her mouth while he locked one hand around her waist.

Tears leaked from her eyes. Her lungs hurt. But he was there. He’d take care of her. He’d promised.

The footsteps grew louder, pounding hard. Or was it her heart?

His?

Don’t look in the alley. Don’t look.

She saw the redhead. Caught a flash of her hair under the streetlight. The woman ran forward. Heading for the parking lot. Exactly where Veronica had been going.

Max Ridgeway thundered past with her. He never once glanced Veronica’s way.

Her lips pressed harder against the soft glove on her lover’s hand. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “They’re gone.”

She was safe.

His hand eased away from her waist, and a white-hot pain sliced her heart.

His hand pressed harder over her mouth, choking back the scream that built, the scream she didn’t even have enough breath to voice.

“They’re gone, but they’ll be back soon. So I have to hurry, love.” The knife twisted. Burned.

A numbing cold swept into her blood.

“Did you really think I’d let you have the money?” His voice was still a whisper. “You’re such a dumb bitch, but a perfect whore.”

He pulled the knife out of her heart. Her blood splattered upon the ground. Her body began to sag. She tried to grab for the garbage bin but her hands slipped on the side. The metal lid crashed down as she struggled to stand.

And he melted into the black night.


Sam skidded to a halt. She’d heard something. A clang, a hollow echo—like a metal door slamming shut. She spun back around.

“Samantha?”

“The alley—” Her gun was up, and she gasped out the words as she ran.