Deadly Lies (17 page)

If there was a chance, any chance, that Adam Warrant was still alive, Luke was jumping on it. “I need to know every detail,”
Luke demanded, “and I need to know it now.”

He’d already ordered cadaver dogs, but, dammit, he wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have hope. And he wanted to find Adam
Warrant
alive.

“Be careful,” Sam said, the words tumbling out. She hugged Max, letting her arms hold him a bit too long and a bit too tight.
She’d given him her gun. The butt of the holster scraped against her arm when she held him. Knowing that he had the weapon
didn’t make her feel better.

It made her more afraid.

Frank waited near the doorway with thick, black duffel bags in each hand and sweat beading his brow.

“It’s gonna be just fine,” Beth said, leaning in close to Frank, a wobbly smile on her lips. “You’ll get him back.” Her fingers
shook a bit as she skimmed her hand down his chest. “In less than an hour, this will all be over.”

Frank didn’t smile back at her. A light coating of gray stubble lined his jaw. Right then, he looked older, weaker. After
a silent moment, he turned away from Beth and said, “Max! Dammit,
come on
.”

Max stared down at Sam, then he leaned in close and whispered against her ear. “If your team messes this up, I’ll crucify
them.”

“Don’t worry, love,” she told him, and let her eyes squeeze shut. “This will go down like clockwork,” she whispered back,
hoping it was true. “Make the drop and bring your brother back.”

He kissed her.
Last time.
Then he was gone, hurrying with Frank to the car that waited just outside.

Sam didn’t follow him. Not part of her role. Her role was to pretend to be the supportive girlfriend so she didn’t make anyone
out there nervous.

No one wanted the kidnappers nervous. Nervous men were dangerous.

“I think I need a drink,” Beth muttered. “One big, heavy drink.” She headed toward Frank’s office. Sam waited until the other
woman disappeared then she pulled out her phone and typed in one quick message.

Body?

The cadaver dogs didn’t turn up anything at the first two locations, but the instant Monica walked into the old garage on
Murrows Road, she knew the ending for Adam Warrant wasn’t going to be a good one.

The dogs stood just inside the entrance, sunlight streaming down on them. Their handlers held them back, but the dogs’ tension
was evident in the tight lines of their bodies. “Him.” Monica pointed to the smaller dog, the one with his nostrils flaring
and his front paws braced apart. “Keep him tight, but let’s see where he leads us.”

Kim was at her back. “This place has been closed for the past three months, but there were fresh tire tracks outside,” Kim
said. After the search, they’d photograph and make molds of them, if this scene went down the way the knot in Monica’s stomach
told her it would.

They trekked through the dust-filled lobby and went past the wall of heavy machinery. Turned to the left, the right. A tight
hallway snaked down the middle of the building. The place was just like a maze.

And then the smell hit her, slapping her right in the face. It was a smell that Monica knew all too well. Her shoulders stiffened.
“Pull the dog back.” There was no need for him to go inside that room in the back.
Keep the scene clear.
She understood exactly how to work the area, but…

But for a moment, she hesitated before that door.
So much damn death.
Sometimes, it felt like she was always surrounded by death.
Except when I’m with Luke.
Luke brought her back to life.

As she stood before the door the scent choked her, but she knew she had to keep her game face on. Keep the image up. Over
the years, Monica had gotten plenty of practice at masking her emotions.
Ice.
Yes, she knew the nickname was still whispered about her, but the folks who whispered were wrong. She might look like nothing
cracked her shell, but Luke had slipped right past and gotten to her.

Monica lifted her hand, motioned to the others to stay
back, and pulled out her gun. Her gloved fingers curled around the butt and her left hand pushed against the door. One, two…

Monica went in low and fast, with Kim coming up behind her. The other woman’s gun was out and up, too. A quick sweep of the
room and—

“Clear,” Monica whispered, and pity had her heart slowing.

Slayton Warrant
would
be getting his son back today.

Adam’s body lay on the floor, spreadeagled just like the last victim. Long, deep slices covered his face and arms, and his
throat had been slit from ear to ear.

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 asshole 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 asshole 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 assholes, 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.

Another man—no, one from before? He couldn’t tell for sure. Max just saw a man in a black jogging suit with a black ski mask,
his gun up and aiming—

Max lifted his own weapon. No cover. Shit. “
Get to the trees.”
He fired at the bastard.

The bullet thudded into the man’s shoulder.
Can’t kill him. He knows where Quinlan is.

The man screamed. A loud, long shriek of pain and rage.

Max lunged for the trees and fired again as the asshole lifted his gun and shot back at him.

“
Gunfire!”
Luke took off running, aware that the woman with the short blond hair and bright pink jogging suit was right with him. Moving
fast, faster… Running toward the thunder of gunshots even as everyone else streaked away in a mass of confusion and fear.

The woman was Sam in disguise, because he’d ordered her in right after Malone and Ridgeway left the house. She kept perfect
pace with him as they rushed for the line of trees. They rounded the corner and went in low, sticking to the tree line as
much as possible, and Luke saw…

Blood, staining the ground. Ridgeway and Malone weren’t there. No one was there and—

“
Here!
” A deep, booming voice called from the brush.

“Max,” Sam whispered and raced forward in a flash, snaking through the trees as Luke stuck tight to her tail.

“Secure the area,” Luke snapped into his mike. “We’ve got men down in the first quadrant. The perps are armed. Use extreme
caution.”

“Max?” Sam fell beside him.

He blinked at her, shaking his head. “What the hell? You aren’t supposed to be here!”

“She’s an agent with the SSD.” Luke kept his gun up. “She’s wherever we need her to be.”

Blood dripped down Max’s arm in thick, dark rivulets. Sam clamped her hands over his wound. “How bad?”

“Went right through.” Sweat beaded his upper lip. “Just hurts like a bitch.”

“Malone?” Luke questioned the other man. He was kneeling on the ground and hunched forward.

“I’m all right.” Gruff. “Bastard shot at me and would have blasted a hole in my head if Max hadn’t been here.”

Luke noticed both men still had guns in their hands. Holding ’em tight.

“Who are we looking for?” Sam asked as she worked to staunch the blood from Max’s wound. “Who did this?”

“Don’t… ah… didn’t see much… a guy from the looks of things. Maybe six two, two hundred pounds, black jogging suit—”

“Two men wearing all black,” Frank muttered, his knuckles white around the gun. “We gave them the money and they tried to
kill us.”

Not part of the MO. What was going down here?

“Get the EMTs here,” Luke ordered, knowing they were already on standby.

Max shook his head. “No, they could still be watching. They’ll see—”

“
They know, Max.
” Sam’s voice. Tighter and harder than Luke had ever heard before. “When the shots were fired, we ran right over, anyone watching—
they know
.” Her breath heaved out. “You’re bleeding too much, and it’s not stopping. We have to get you to a hospital.”