Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(33)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Her fingers caressed his shoulder. He’d rolled onto his stomach, and his face was positioned toward her. She could hear his breathing, deep, even, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping.

Together, but so far apart.

A soft chime pealed in the room, and she tensed. Oh, no, not now, please.

But Max was already moving. He rolled away from her in a flash and stalked, naked, to pick up her phone. The dim light from her screen lit his face as he read the message.

Not Quinlan. Don’t say they’ve found a body. Max’s head lifted but shadows hid most of his face. “New development,” he said, voice rumbling. “ ‘Problem. Stay on guard.’ ”

She pulled the covers up, too aware of her nudity when she hadn’t cared before. “Max…”

But he’d spun away and lunged toward a tall cabinet near the balcony. He wrenched open the cabinet doors, revealing a large flat-screen television. “Dante said to turn on the damn TV.”

That drove her from the bed. Oh, shit, they’d found a body. She grabbed Max’s hand before he could press the button on the remote to activate the TV. “Don’t, Max. You don’t need to see—”

His thumb pressed POWER. The screen burst to life. Max flew through the channels, shooting past infomercials and old black-and-white films to find a local station.

Newscasters—faces tense as they sat at their desks, their hair perfect, their clothes pressed—stared back at her. “Shocking news out of D.C. this morning,” the dark-haired anchor said. “A well-known man has recently been kidnapped, and his family turns to you for help.”

“Oh, shit,” she breathed the words. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. She’d been with Max every moment. He hadn’t gone to the press. Had Frank? Was he the one who’d leaked the story to the world? Beth?

In the next instant, the reporters vanished, and a live action shot filled the screen. An older man with dark gray hair and fierce eyes glared at the camera. “I want my son back. Someone took Adam. The bastards have him, and I want him back.” An image of the missing young man appeared in the lower left-hand side of the screen. A smiling guy with curly blond hair and a dimple in his right cheek.

“They want me to pay to get him back. Well, I’m not playing their games,” the man on screen continued, staring hard out of the television set. “I’ll pay you to tell me where he is. I’m offering a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for any information about my son, Adam Warrant. He’s twenty-two, he’s five foot nine, about one hundred and seventy pounds. Blond hair, blue eyes. He was out last night…” His words came fast. “At a bar near Georgetown. He was at The Core, and I know someone saw something.”

This wasn’t the right thing to do. Didn’t he understand? Her hands clenched. Oh, God.

“Call me.” He barked out a number, one that instantly appeared on the screen below him. “Tell me where my boy is, and tell me who these freaks are that took him.”

Sam’s eyes squeezed shut.

“That’s Slayton Warrant,” Max said quietly.

She knew who he was. Most of D.C. did. She also knew that he had a whole big chunk of money sunk into this particular television channel. No wonder he’d gotten an instant broadcast. Not that the news station would have passed up a story like this one, but…

But he doesn’t realize what he’s done. She opened her eyes, swallowed, and almost swore she tasted blood. “The SSD will be on their way to his house.” To try and stop him, too late. The damage would have already been done.

Max tossed the remote down as the broadcast continued to blast in front of them. “He’s right. Somebody did see something.”

And a lot of people had seen nothing. All those people would be calling in too.

He raked a rough hand through his hair. “Adam and Quinlan both disappeared from the same place…. Dammit! This shouldn’t have happened!”

“No,” her voice came so much softer than his. “It shouldn’t.” Another break in pattern. Two men gone at the same time. Two taken from the same bar. The SSD had interviewed the employees at the bar—twice—and they’d even put undercover agents inside The Core as a precaution. Oh, hell, Hyde was going to flip over this. No way should another vic have vanished from that place.

And why another victim so soon? This was rapid acceleration. Usually, the kidnappers only took someone else if the ransom had been paid or if—

She slanted a quick glance at Max.

If the other vic was dead.

“What’s going to happen?” He turned toward her, pinning her with his gaze, and Sam hoped the fear didn’t show in her eyes. “When they find out what Warrant’s done, what will the kidnappers do?”

Kill.

“Maybe Slayton will get the right tip,” Max said. “Maybe they’ll find Adam and Quinlan.”

If he wanted to believe that, why shatter his hope?

• • •

He walked down the street, taking his time as he rounded the curve and headed into the park. His hood was pulled up, concealing his face, and the thick jogging suit hid the shape of his body.

His gaze didn’t meet that of any of the other runners or walkers. When he was sure no one was watching, he ducked into the woods and pulled out his phone.

The call was answered on the second ring.

“Slayton Warrant.”

But, of course, it wasn’t him. The voice belonged to some flunky. Some idiot Warrant had slapped with the job because the ass**le was all fake bullshit on the air.

“I’ve got a tip.” He kept his voice a whisper because he figured they were recording the calls. Recording, tracing, doing whatever they could. The cops would be at Warrant’s place by now. The cops, maybe even the FBI. He knew the FBI was following him as best they could.

Not good enough.

He’d taken Adam right under their noses. So much for the big, bad FBI and their cop flunkies.

Taking Adam in front of them had been such a big damn rush. No one can stop me.

“Sir,” the voice on the phone chirped in his ear, “Sir, I need you to speak louder. We have a bad connection—”

“He f**ked up.” He didn’t raise his voice. “Warrant knew the rules, and he f**ked up.” And he’d known instantly. As soon as that news van pulled up, the watcher had alerted him.

And Adam had been dead.

“Uh… sir?” A hint of fear there. Good. The idiot should be afraid.