Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(83)

Nathan’s fingers curled over the black bag. One last batch. He’d brought the drugs Quinlan demanded, and now the kick in his gut told him who they’d be used on.

“You want the account number, Don? Go give my brother a drink, and it’s yours.” Quinlan’s smile flashed again, and the sight of it made bile rise in Donnelley’s throat.

Only one person between Quinlan and the Malone fortune. And now Quinlan wanted him to dose Max. Donnelley tossed the bag at Quinlan. “You do it. I’m done.” He had enough blood on his hands.

“Then you don’t get a dime.”

A tremble shook his body. Part rage. Part fear.

“I need your fingerprints on the glass, Don. Yours, not mine. When the Feds check, I need to be clean.” He walked closer, nice and slow. “You’ll be long gone. Hell, go jump a plane tonight. Doesn’t matter what you leave behind because they won’t be able to touch you.”

Money. Finally, he wouldn’t have to kiss some rich jerk’s ass. Wouldn’t have to watch while everyone else lived the good life while he stood on the fringes.

“I know why you stayed with dad. Your career was shot after that nurse found you using, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t speak. Why bother? Quinlan would know. The guy knew everything. Watched everyone.

“I had a PI do some research on you a couple of years back. That nurse—her name was Sheila, right?—she still remembered you.”

Of course the bitch had. “My wife… she’d just left me.”

Quinlan shook his head. “Do I really look like I give a shit? I don’t need to know why. Save that crap for your shrink.”

Donnelley glared at him. Asshole.

“I picked you to help me not because of the drugs. Hell, I could get those from anyone I wanted on the street.” When had Quinlan’s gaze become so mocking? “You’re my fall guy, Donnelley. The man who takes the blame, but gets to walk away with a boatload of cash.”

Only if the Feds didn’t grab him first.

“Go back outside,” Quinlan ordered. “Tell my brother I’m fine. Then have a drink with him.” Quinlan’s gaze dropped to the bag. “Just a drink. Then you walk away.”


Max stopped pacing when Donnelley came out of Quinlan’s room. “How is he?”

Donnelley stared at the floor, shaking his head. “He’s not—he’s not going to be the same, Max.”

Donnelley walked across the room and headed straight for the bar. Max frowned. “Are you okay?”

Donnelley’s hands shook as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. “Your stepfather was my friend.” The back of Donnelley’s hand swept out and sent a tumbler falling to the floor. It shattered, and glass flew everywhere. Donnelley stooped down to pick it up.

“No, careful! I’ll get it!” Max bent and hurriedly scooped up the large chunks. He pushed them onto the top of the bar as worry filled him. Donnelley looked shaken. And the guy wasn’t meeting his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Donnelley’s hands covered two glasses. “Beth was such a troubled woman.”

Beth? “I didn’t realize you two were close.” Beth had barely seemed to tolerate the doctor.

Donnelley picked up one of the glasses and handed it to him. “You learn a lot just by watching people. Beth, she was so unhappy.”

Max took the glass. “You knew she’d been screwing Frank when my mother was still alive, didn’t you?”

Donnelley drained his glass in two gulps. “Doesn’t really matter what she did now, does it?” A long sigh escaped him. “In the end, does it matter what any of us do? Death comes, no matter what.”

Max took a sip of the whiskey. “That’s one hell of a pessimistic view you’ve got there, doctor.” This time, he took a longer pull from the drink.

“When you’ve seen all that I have, you tend to get pessimistic.” Donnelley’s glass hit the bar top with a soft clink. “Your brother—he needs to keep seeing that shrink. Maybe… maybe this one will even be able to help him.”

The whiskey burned down Max’s throat as he drained the glass. “Maybe.” He could hope.

“The Feds aren’t pressing charges against him?” Donnelley’s eyes dipped to the empty glass that Max had just set on the bar.

“Frank’s death was an-an accident.” Max put his hand to his temple. That damn ache was back.

“If that’s what you think.”

What?

Donnelley came closer. The light glinted off the top of his balding head. “Sometimes people have blind spots.”

The room seemed to dim a bit. “What are you talking about?”

Donnelley’s hand slapped down on his shoulder. “I kind of liked you. Of all the *s around Malone, you were the one who bothered me the least.”

His knees gave way, and Max hit the floor, hard. “Wh-what the… f-f*ck… d-did…?” The drink.

Donnelley crouched above him. “And I am sorry about your mother.” Another sigh whispered from him. “Everything went downhill after her death.”

Max’s hands were numb. No, his arms were numb. A heavy weight seemed to settle over his entire body. He blinked, trying to keep his eyes open and on Donnelley. The doctor Frank had trusted.