Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(77)

He caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Without you, I’d be dead.”

Hyde walked toward them. “We have a suspect.”

“What? Who?” Samantha demanded.

Hyde pointed toward an elderly lady, one standing with her hat slightly askew and talking animatedly with Agent Daniels. The lady’s shaking hands rose, and she pointed down the street.

“Mrs. Sarah Ann Douglas was almost the victim of a hit and run today.” Hyde’s head tilted toward the left. “Just after the explosion that took out your car, a woman driving a blue BMW nearly plowed into Sarah Ann.”

A woman? A blue BMW…

Max stiffened. No, there were hundreds of BMWs in the city. Just because Frank had one in his garage didn’t mean a damn thing.

“Video surveillance at the red light caught the car and license plate. And we just got a hit in the system.” Hyde’s gaze cut to Max. “We’re heading there now, but I thought you might want to come with us.”

“Go with you where?” Samantha asked, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. “Who owns the car?”

Shit. Max answered, the kick in his gut telling him it had to be… “Frank.” And the woman driving the car? Hyde’s suspect?

Beth.


“It’ll never be okay again,” Quinlan spat the words at her, “because I just saw the news. Scott Jacobson is dead. He was taken by the same kidnappers who took me, and he’s dead.”

She let horror wash over her face. It was the reaction that he’d expect. “What? Oh, God, Quinlan, I’m so sorry!”

His left hand flew out and curled around her wrist. The bandages bit into her flesh as he hauled her closer. “I caught the story on TV right before you got here. Max was also targeted. The bomber went after him, but missed.”

Dammit. Not next time, though. She wouldn’t miss again.

“I had almost convinced them,” he muttered, “I had Max’s bitch eating out of my hand. The woman nearly cried for me, and then you went off and you f*cked up everything for me.”

Beth blinked, his words slowly sinking in, too slowly. “Wh-what?”

In a flash, he spun her around, and his right arm looped over her body. Her back pressed against his chest. “You’re such a dumb bitch,” he whispered. “Did you really think I was going to stay with you? Did you think if the money was all mine today, I’d keep you?” His breath blew against her hair.

Real fear began to settle in Beth’s stomach. “Quinlan, llet me go.”

The bandaged hand, the hand that she tried not to look at, had her wrist in a too-tight grip.

“You’ve f*cked things up,” he said again. “Now what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

OhGodOhGod…

“I guess this…” He took the shard of glass and he slit open her left wrist.

“No!” The scream ripped from her as blood spattered onto the carpet. She shoved back against him, slamming her head into his. “No! Let me go!”

His hold eased. Her wrist and arm throbbed and burned. Quinlan? He’d been the one to bring her into the house. He’d set everything up so that she fit into his world.

He’d even been the one to tell her to screw Frank.

Beth stumbled away from him. He’d cut her deep, a long slash from the base of her palm nearly to her elbow. Her fingers curled in, the tips already numb, and a moan trembled on her lips.

“Did you think I loved you?” he asked softly, and Beth’s knees buckled as she fell to the floor. Her blood stained the gleaming wood, coating her fingers as she tried to crawl away from him.

“I loved you,” she yelled at him. And she had. From that first day, she’d wanted him. Wanted the life that he’d given her.

But he just stared down at her, and she wondered why she’d never seen the ice in his eyes before. Get up. No man would make her crawl. She shoved to her feet, stumbled again, and slipped in the blood. He stood there, watching her with his lips curved in a grin and the bloody glass shard held tight in his hand.

“I killed for you,” she threw back at him. Didn’t he understand? “Why did you—” The drumming of her heartbeat filled her ears. So loud. So fast.

“I needed you to keep an eye on the old bastard. To make sure there were no more changes to his will.” Quinlan glanced down at the bloody glass and his lips twisted. “And then there was the added bonus. Every time he screwed you, my father felt so guilty he could barely look at me.” A rough laugh. “I liked for him to squirm. He hated himself, and he didn’t pay any damn attention to me or the plans I was making.”

Her breath expelled in a hard rush, and the fingers of her right hand pressed over the pulsing wound. Her left hand felt totally numb, and blood was pumping out way too fast. “We can fix this,” she said, desperate. All that money. She’d worked for that money for so long. Screwed. Lied. Killed. The payoff was so close. “Y-you’re upset. You didn’t mean to—”

Quinlan laughed at her. “Beth, I meant to.” He took a step toward her, and Beth couldn’t help it; she fell back.

The money. She needed that money. Needed the new life it would give her. Not a whore’s daughter, not the girl everyone pitied. A new person.

“I’d always planned to kill you,” Quinlan said and took another gliding step toward her. “But I’d planned to wait until the cops weren’t watching my every move.” He lifted the glass. “Change of plans.”