Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(60)

Her fingers clenched around his. “You’re safe now.”





CHAPTER Eleven


I’m sorry, sir, but there was nothing we could do.” Cold, inadequate words.

Max blinked and stared at the doctor. The guy’s green scrubs were stained red with Frank’s blood.

“By the time your stepfather arrived at the hospital,” a helpless shrug, “it was already too late.”

The doc’s face was lined, his gray eyes bloodshot. Max knew that he should probably say something but he just felt so numb.

“Your stepbrother…” The doctor swallowed. “He’s still in surgery, but it looks like he’ll be all right. As soon as he’s in recovery, I-I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Samantha said. She stood beside Max, quiet and calm. She’d been there just moments after he’d arrived. She’d come in right after the doctors had run down the hallway, screaming orders, and he’d seen Frank’s pale hand fall off the gurney.

He’d known then. Dead.

Max stared in silence as the seconds ticked by. After a while, his breath heaved out, and he turned away, stalking for the door.

“Max!”

He didn’t stop at Samantha’s call. What was he supposed to be feeling? Frank—dead. And Quinlan. Oh, damn, Quinlan.

His palms slapped against the emergency room doors. He hurried out as the security beep sounded behind him.

“Max, stop!” Samantha caught his arm and swung him back to face her. “Max, I’m sorry.”

So was he. Sorry he’d trusted the FBI. “Why was he there, Samantha?”

She shook her head. Her curls bounced against her shoulders. “I don’t know. Ramirez is working on that. We think—we think Frank must have gotten a call from the kidnapper, telling him where to go.”

And he would have gone. The bastard would have walked right in there without telling him.

“We’ll pull his phone records, see what we can find—”

He stepped away from her, breaking her hold. Can’t let her touch me, not now. “And what about Quinlan? What’s going to happen to him? Samantha, he killed Frank!”

A man standing in the hallway shot him a wide-eyed look and hurried off. His footsteps rapped against the floor.

“Quinlan’s going to survive, that’s what he’s going to do.”

So easy to say. “You ever killed someone?” With her job, yeah, maybe, but…

“No.”

“There’s not really any coming back from that.” He knew. Some things you could never forget.

He could still feel that baseball bat in his hands. The smooth wood. The hard strength. He could see that bat swinging through the air, hear the faint whistle of sound, and see the bastard’s eyes as he realized what was going to happen to him.

What had Frank realized in those last few moments? Max closed his eyes, not wanting to see the line of cars buzzing outside. Life going on, while his family lay shattered. “He just wanted to save Quinlan.”

“Frank did. Quinlan’s—”

“They tortured him.”

“He survived. Give him a chance. Your stepbrother can get past—”

Max’s control snapped, and he whirled to face her. “You don’t know! You forced your way in here. You forced yourself into my life, and now Frank’s dead!” Tell the cops, and you’ll get him back in pieces. Rage churned in him and exploded on the closest victim—her. “They’d already gone to work on Quinlan. They were cutting him up. Know why, baby? You know why they were cutting my brother apart?”

Because of you.

It hung between them, stark and painful. The kidnappers had changed their plans because they’d known that the FBI was involved. Samantha and her team had broken those stupid rules.

She swallowed and eased toward him. “Yes, I know why.” A brief pause, then, “Because they were freaking psychopaths who got off on hurting other people, that’s why.”

Red stained her cheeks, and her chin lifted. “There was escalation from these guys, right after the initial abduction. The first guy came back unharmed, but the second vic—they made sure he suffered. They sliced his chest. Carved his back. Yes, he came back alive, but they had fun with him first, and they got a taste.”

What? “You never said—”

“Because I was trying to protect you. What? Did you want me to tell you that the bastards who’d took your brother liked to torture? That they got off on pain? Well, they did.”

Frank’s face, eyes wide, lips dripping blood.

“They killed the third victim. The parents broke their rules, sure, but, like I said, the kidnappers were already escalating. The fourth victim went down, too. They could have given the Briars more time. They didn’t want to. Monica’s profile showed the attacks weren’t just about the money. Based on the way the bodies were carved, the killer enjoyed hurting the victims.”

Max stared at her and struggled to process everything she was admitting to him.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Samantha said, her voice softer, sadder. “You already had enough on your mind. And Frank—what? Was I supposed to tell a father that the bastards who had his son were slowly slicing him apart?” She gave a slow, negative shake of her head. “I couldn’t do that.”