Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(36)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Beside him, a small, brown box sat, just waiting.

Kim clicked on the safety and shoved the gun back into her holster. “This is one sick, twisted bastard.”

Monica’s eyes raked the room as she secured her own weapon. There was no blood spatter anywhere. No marks in the dust on the floor. Just a perfectly dropped—and dead—body.

And a box. Monica knelt next to the box and carefully opened it with gloved fingers.

Kim crept forward and peered over Monica’s shoulder.

A finger.

She’d noticed that Adam was missing his left ring finger.

Kim exhaled on a heavy sigh. “Guess the ass**le is showing off his new signature.”

Proof of life. That’s what it had been for Quinlan Malone. For Adam Warrant, it just looked like more proof of death.

“It appears that way.” Monica put the box back down, right in the exact spot. “He’s linking them all. Briar’s body position and wounds were nearly identical to this scene. It’s all so close.”

“From the looks of the wound,” Kim cut in, “it looks like the perp cut it off before Warrant died.”

Monica suspected most of the wounds had been administered before death. Their killer enjoyed the pain he caused his victims. “We know the leader is highly organized,” Monica murmured.

“Right.” Kim pushed out a hard breath. “So what’s the ass**le got planned for his next trick?”

Monica knew Luke would be finding out very soon, and she couldn’t help the kick of fear that made her heart race. Luke was a good agent. No, better than good. He could handle himself. But…

She worried because she cared more about him than she’d ever cared about anyone or anything.

And if she were to lose him…

Be careful, Luke.

Wyham Park was full of people. Joggers. Mothers who pushed bundled babies in giant strollers. Couples snagging a quick lunch.

Max walked past them all. His gaze swept the park. Left to right, back again, over and over.

Frank kept perfect pace with him, not saying a word, just walking fast with his duffel bags. They’d make the drop in less than two minutes.

And they’d damn well better get Quinlan back right after that.

They rounded the corner, and the crowd began to thin. Max hadn’t seen any sign of the agents yet, and he hoped he didn’t.

Samantha’s face flashed in his mind. Wide eyes. Soft lips. The gun she’d given to Max pressed into his back.

“Th-there.” Frank’s shaking voice. No longer hard or arrogant. Max hadn’t heard the guy sound this way since he’d gotten the phone call from Frank almost a year ago. The call that had come in the middle of the night. The one that had told Max that his mother had died.

Max’s hold on the duffel bags tightened. Ten million dollars. A hell of a lot of cash. Two large bags for him, two for Frank.

“He said… behind the broken oak,” Frank murmured.

The broken oak tree waited, split straight in the middle by a blast of lightning long ago. Max glanced around. He couldn’t see any more joggers. No more women pushing their kids. Hell, they were just going to dump the money? Here? What if someone else came along? What if—

Two men came toward them from the woods. Had to be men. Tall, nearly his height, with thick shoulders. They had on black jogging suits, and ski masks covered their faces.

They also had guns equipped with silencers. The better for killing when others were around.

“Drop the bags and back away.” This came from the guy slightly in front. The one with his weapon pointed straight at Max. The other guy, about an inch shorter, had his gun trained on Frank.

Frank dropped the bags. So did Max. The bags thudded onto the ground. Max and Frank stepped back, their hands up. “We’re not armed,” Frank said, raising his voice.

Bullshit. Max knew Frank had a gun tucked under his jacket. Frank always kept a gun in the main house, locked in his bedroom safe. Frank had taken the weapon out before they left for the drop.

“Turn around and walk away!” The order was barked at them. “If either one of you looks back, I’ll put a bullet in both of you.”

Max’s body tensed. “What about Quinlan? When do we get him back? When?”

“When the money’s counted,” the man taunted. Max saw the jerk’s finger tighten around the trigger. “Now move or I’ll tell my friend here to shoot the old man in the head.”

Max believed that he’d do it. Slowly, carefully, he turned around.

“Keep your damn arms up, every minute! You got me? Keep ’em up!”

Max kept his arms up and started walking away with Frank by his side. And with guns pointed at their backs.

“Two with guns,” Jon Ramirez’s low voice drifted through the earpiece Luke wore. Luke bent down, pretending to tie his shoe near the entrance of the park. “Drop’s been made. Ridgeway and Malone are walking away.”

“Stay with the perps,” Luke ordered quietly, speaking into the mouthpiece that was hidden just inside the hood of his jogging suit. Two men. Figured. They’d separate as soon as they left the park to make tracking harder. Smart. Not smart enough.

“You and Hyde break off, each taking a perp,” because the big boss was out there watching too, “and let’s see where they’re gonna take us,” he ordered.

“They’ve got the money. They’re moving.”

Luke rose and made a show of stretching. Every muscle in his body was tight with tension. One dead vic already today. Not another.

“No visual on Ridgeway and Malone. Perps are in sight. Out.”

Ridgeway and Malone should be rounding the corner any minute and coming back out of the thick forest path. They’d be clear in just a few more moments. Hurry up.

Max’s hands were still up. The thud of footsteps disappeared into the distance. The ass**les, running away with their money.

But they wouldn’t get far. And right then, Max was real glad the SSD was hiding in those woods.

“Are we clear?” Frank asked, and Max saw him begin to lower his arms.

Then he heard the twig snap behind them. Too damn close.

If either of you looks back, I’ll put a bullet in both of you.

He let his hands lower. Slow. Easy. Frank had flinched. He’d heard the snap, too.

Not gonna wait until we look back, are you? Max sucked in a breath and slammed into Frank. Fire ripped along his left arm, a blast of pain accompanied by no sound. Sonofabitch. As his blood spilled onto the ground, Max yanked out Samantha’s gun.