Lethal Lies

  Ryker worked on another computer, and Zara was busy taping maps to a whiteboard. She started circling rural areas that held only a couple of structures, much like the ones Daniel had used in other states. There were too many circles already. They’d never have time to check them all.

  “We need more to go on,” Heath muttered, scraping a hand through his hair. “There has to be a way to find her.” Maybe he should call Shane again to get more intel on Daniel, although his brother had told him everything he knew. Nobody had known that Daniel was a serial killer. Heath noted that Shane hadn’t seemed all that surprised, however.

  “Radio’s ready,” Denver finally said, even more quietly than usual.

  Heath instantly sat and put the earphones over his head. Concentrate. He needed to focus and do the job. Shane had sent him the buzzing frequency of the tracking bug Isobel Madison had used before, and he’d listened to it for a good fifteen minutes. If he heard it again, he’d know it. So he started twisting dials and focusing on sounds.

  Shane and the rest of the Gray brothers were hacking into satellites to see if they could track Daniel’s movements, but the storm was making things difficult. Their ultimate goal was to track Daniel back to Isobel Madison so they could destroy any lab she’d created. But now was about Anya.

  Just thinking her name made Heath’s chest compress. What if he didn’t find her in time? If this was love, it fucking sliced through a guy like a blade.

  Ten minutes went by.

  Then another twenty.

  The frequencies started melding together, and he had to dig deep and remember the sound of the right one. She was waiting for him to save her and, damn it, he would. Somehow. God, he had to find her. If he didn’t, he was done.

  Ryker shoved away from his desk, lines cutting into the sides of his mouth. His hair was a disheveled mess, and whiskers covered his jaw. His eyes were bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in far too long. “He disabled all the cameras in the neighborhood days before he planted the bombs. He’s good.”

  “What about farther out?” Heath asked, hearing over the earphones. “There are several banks just three blocks away. He didn’t appear out of nowhere.” Anybody could be traced—with enough time. They didn’t have time. But there had to be a way to find Daniel. The guy wasn’t invincible. Heath’s solar plexus pounded like he’d been punched with a brick. Anya. Where was she?

  Ryker shook his head. “So far, I haven’t found a thing on any of the cameras even close to our headquarters. My guess is he used back alleys and dark areas to get her out of town. He definitely knows how to stay under the radar.”

  If Isobel Madison hadn’t tagged Daniel like a dog, then they’d never find him. How ironic that Heath’s only chance of finding Anya rested with Madison being even more evil than he’d known.

  A knock sounded on the door, and he took out his gun, not pausing in listening to different frequencies.

  Ryker waited a beat and then turned to open it.

  Detective Malloy came inside, covered with snow and ice. “The FBI has put out a BOLO on you, Heath, because of the fake ID near Carl’s body. I’m gonna have to take you in. We’ll get this figured out, I promise.”

  Something buzzed through the headphones. Heath sat up, his heart kicking into gear. That was it. The right sound. Madison had tagged Daniel. She had actually done it. “Got it.” Glancing toward the radio, he rattled off the frequency to Denver, who was looking at the cop grimly.

  “Denver? Get me the location,” Heath said. He tossed the earphones to the side and stood, the need to run out the door and find his woman nearly making him insane. “Malloy? I’ll meet you anywhere and anytime tomorrow. Got something to do tonight.” He was so fucking close. Was she still alive? She had to be. There was no alternative.

  Malloy winced. “I promised the FBI I’d bring you in to keep them from setting up roadblocks and plastering your face all over the television. I’m helping you out here.” He put his hands into his trench coat pockets. “This was the only thing I could think of to help you for now. You have to come with me.”

  There wasn’t time for this shit. “I don’t want to shoot you, Detective.” Heath glanced toward the shaded window. If Malloy had brought backup, they’d be already in position outside. He didn’t have time for a shoot-out.

  Denver started typing, his head close to the keyboard. “Got it,” he muttered. “Found the asshole.”

  “Give me the address,” Heath said, his body gearing up to run. He turned to Malloy. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” His gun lay heavy in his hand. He couldn’t shoot the cop, but he could knock the guy out.

  Malloy shook his head. “There’s no other option here, boys.”

  Denver shoved to his feet.

  Heath noted belatedly that his brother’s face had lost all color. “Denver?”

  “I’ll go in Heath’s place and be arrested,” Denver said. “Explain the mix-up later.” He grabbed the desk and curled his fingers over it.

  Ryker paused. “Den?”

  “I’m fine.” Denver wavered. Then he crashed to the floor, taking his keyboard with him. It clattered across the wood, several keys falling out to bounce away.

  Zara rushed to him and slid to her knees. Her dark hair tumbled out if its clip. “Denver? What’s wrong?” She patted his hand and then his face.

  He was out cold.

  Heath moved past Malloy to crouch and feel Denver’s pulse at his neck. Weak but there. The scent of blood caught his attention. What the hell? He tugged up Denver’s dark T-shirt. It was soaking wet. “Oh God.” He pushed the shirt up more to see a festering wound below Denver’s right pec. His stitches had popped wide open, and he was losing too much blood. “Call a bus, Malloy,” Heath ordered curtly.

  Malloy bent over and then whistled. “Got it.” He moved to the side and yanked out a cell phone.

  Ryker caught Heath’s eye and then jerked his head toward Denver’s console.

  Heath’s breath stopped. Indecision slammed through him. He couldn’t leave Denver. Why hadn’t the man said something? Because of Anya. Denver had ignored his pain to find Anya, working until he’d literally passed out cold. Now, that was a brother. One he loved and would die for. In an instant.

  Heath dropped his chin to his chest. The world tore him in two.

  “Get the girl,” Ryker mouthed, tugging off his shirt. He pressed the worn material against Denver’s wound. “We’ll take care of Denver.”

  Heath’s hands shook, but he stood and glanced at Denver’s console. The address came up as 2121 Forsaken Lake Road. He faltered.

  Ryker took Zara’s hand and pushed it against the wound. Then he waited, his gaze on Heath. “Go,” he mouthed again.

  Heath took a deep breath. Then he pressed a button near the screen, and the screen went black.

  “Now,” Ryker whispered.

  Zara held tight to Denver while Ryker leaped for the cop and took him down. Malloy shouted in warning, but Ryker slammed a fist into the cop’s jaw.

  Heath jumped over them both and ran through the kitchen and into the garage, his movements still a little shaky from his injuries. He yanked up the garage door. The car’s crappy engine took two tries to turn over, and then he was speeding out of the small neighborhood and west. Nobody shot at him, so perhaps Malloy hadn’t brought backup.

  Man, he hoped the cop was all right and in a forgiving mood. If he arrested Ryker, everything would go to shit even worse.

  If that were possible.

  Grabbing his phone, Heath typed the address into his GPS with one hand. Shit. He was almost an hour away.

  He quickly made a prayer to a God he wasn’t sure about to save Anya. She was good and kind and should be saved. He discarded thoughts about the other victims and how they were good, too. If God didn’t save those women, why would he save Anya?

  Heath’s foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, and he slid through two intersections before he calmed himself down. He had one gun and one crappy car for this f
ight, but there hadn’t been time to suit up with the cop there. Sirens trilled through the storm, and an ambulance passed him, followed by several patrol cars, heading for the blue house. Would Malloy turn him in?

  He had to get to her. Now.

  CHAPTER

  41

  The feeling came back into Anya’s extremities with a rush of needlelike pain. She gasped while sitting on the couch, tears falling down her face.

  Daniel stood near the fireplace in the cabin, watching her. “Hurts, huh?”

  She tried to glare at him as her body thawed. “I’m going to rip you apart.”

  “Interesting.” He crossed arms over his soaking-wet shirt. Apparently the cold didn’t bother him. “They usually beg to live right about now. Promise me anything I want if I’ll let them go.”

  “Oh, I promise you I’ll see you dead,” she spat, her body shuddering. Her toes felt like flames licked at them. Did she have frostbite?

  “I wonder how long it’ll take for you to beg.” Red slid into his face, and his lips pursed. “I’m really looking forward to our life together.” Almost casually, he leaned down and pulled up his pant leg to remove a wicked-looking knife. “You’re going to pay for not seeing the real me.”

  Part of his game was to make her squirm, and she knew it. So she faced him as bravely as she could, unwilling to give him any satisfaction. “Fuck you, loser.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Your sister said the exact same thing to me.”

  Anya doubled over as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Her poor sister. And Loretta had been seriously trained. How could Anya survive if Loretta hadn’t?

  Heath’s face swam across her vision. Strong and handsome, he had given her himself. She knew he would come for her. All she had to do was stay alive until he found her. If she could get the knife from Daniel, she’d stab him right through the eye and go looking for Heath. Maybe he was still in the hospital. He had to be all right. He just had to be.

  She shook her head to focus her thoughts when everything was so jumbled up inside her. “I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m not a real redhead?” she asked grimly.

  “Neither was your sister.” Daniel shrugged. “It isn’t that important to me. You’re the woman for me. Maybe I’ll tear your hair out to prove it.”

  “You’re sick,” Anya said, shoving to her feet. Pain prickled up her legs, and she winced. “You’re a psychopath with delusions. A simple, run-of-the-mill serial killer.” She eyed the distance between them. His balls had to still smart from when she’d kicked him. The idea of using her foot again made her want to cry harder, but she’d do it. If she could nail him, she could go for the knife.

  Running for the door again held little appeal. But she’d take any opportunity.

  Daniel sprang for her before she could move. Grabbing her hair, he jerked her forward and pressed the knife to her throat. “Don’t even think of kicking me again.”

  She struggled against him, frustration welling up in her. At some point, he’d have to lower the knife. “Shouldn’t I be getting a burlap sack by now?” she hissed, fury all but consuming her.

  “You don’t get to die,” he said, sliding the knife down her neck.

  She held perfectly still and tried to focus through the terror. Her mind tried to push her to fight what was happening. No. This was happening. A crazy man held a knife to her throat. She’d get an opening. Somehow.

  He grabbed her breast again and squeezed. Pain detonated in her chest.

  She screamed, long and loud, her instincts kicking in.

  He laughed and tightened his hold.

  The door burst open behind her. Taking advantage of it, she shot her knee up into his groin. He shifted at the last second, and her knee collided with his thigh. Without missing a beat, he turned her around, the knife still at her jugular.

  She expected to see Heath.

  Instead, a fit man wearing all black stomped into the room, brushing snow from his jacket. He had almost white hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a gun pointed at them.

  “Who are you?” Anya croaked.

  A woman followed the man, this one in her late forties or early fifties. Snow melted across her black hair, and she was dressed in nice pants, designer boots, and a fur coat. “Daniel, you didn’t mention you had a hobby last time we spoke.” Her voice was cultured and smooth.

  Anya struggled in Daniel’s hold, but he didn’t relent. The night took on an almost surreal tinge. “I can see you all have things to chat about. I’ll be on my way.” Her voice came out hoarse.

  Daniel sighed, his chest moving against her back. “How did you find me?”

  “That’s irrelevant. It’s time to go home,” the woman said. The man kept looking at Anya. “You’re Heath’s.” Satisfaction darkened his voice.

  Anya shivered. “Nope. Not me. I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “You can say that again,” the guy all but purred. “Daniel, buddy? Can I borrow your knife? I’d like to leave Heath a present.”

  Anya’s legs went weak. She squinted. “Who are you?”

  “Oh my, our manners.” Sarcasm barely laced the woman’s tone. “I’m Dr. Isobel Madison, and this is Sheriff Elton Cobb. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”

  A renewed panic washed through Anya. “No, sorry. Should I have?”

  Isobel smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “You’re a terrible liar, dear.” She clapped her rabbit-fur gloves together. “This is so good. If Heath confided his past to you, then he must truly care about you.”

  Anya tried to calculate a way out of this mess and came up with only one possibility. “Well, he did, and then Daniel came and found me. It has taken time, but I do think we might be soul mates. If you’d leave, we could continue getting to know each other.”

  Daniel stiffened behind her, but his hold didn’t relent. “I need the night, Isobel.”

  Cobb pointed the gun at Daniel’s head. “I want the knife and the girl. This one is my plaything, asshole.”

  Daniel pressed the blade into her flesh, and she shoved back against him. Her neck hurt, and blood started to drip down to her collarbone. “She’s mine,” he snapped.

  Isobel rolled her eyes. “There are tons of redheads out there, and I’ll help you find some. Let Elton have this one.”

  Anya coughed. “Who are you people?” she whispered. They were calmly discussing her torture and death as if she didn’t matter in the slightest. “No wonder Heath hates you.”

  Daniel smelled her hair. “Heath was corrupted by being taking away from us. From the family. His mama was a stupid whore who stole him. Right, Isobel?”

  “Actually, Heath’s mother was a lab technician with a very high IQ,” Isobel said thoughtfully. “Ungrateful bitch, however. Escaped us with Heath and went on the run.”

  “I thought she was a junkie.” Anya was willing to talk about anything but her imminent death.

  “I heard that as well,” Isobel said, eyeing both men. “She probably started using because of the stress of running from us. Trusted the wrong men, and one finally killed her. Of course, that’s how I found Heath again and put him in the boys home.”

  Anya tested Daniel’s hold, and it was firm. “Any idea what happened to that guy?” she asked.

  “We engineered a car accident. Couldn’t have him looking for Heath,” Isobel said.

  “What about Daniel?” Anya asked quietly. “Who was his mother?”

  Isobel’s smile widened. “Aren’t you cute, trying to distract all of us.”

  Anya leaned back against Daniel and tried to stop shaking. Could she somehow convey trust to him? It’d be easier to manipulate him than the other two. “Don’t you want to know who your biological parents were, Daniel?” she asked, very aware of the gun pointed just above her head.

  “Not really,” he said. “Though the commander was my father, I believe.”

  Darn it. “Fine. Then who is Heath’s father?” She’d keep them talking all night if she c
ould.

  Isobel tugged off her gloves. “A soldier who died long ago, I assure you.” She gently placed her gloves into a pocket of her mink coat and then drew a small pistol from the other pocket. “We need a decision here, boys.”

  “Give me the night, please.” Daniel’s voice rose in pitch. “I need the night with her. Just one.” He held Anya’s waist so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

  Oh, he had no intention of having just one night. But if they believed him, then maybe they’d leave and Anya could get free. “I agree, Daniel,” she said softly. “Let’s get rid of them.”

  Isobel turned toward Cobb. “We could let Daniel have the night, and then you could get a turn.”

  Anya sucked in air, her eyes widening. “You’re a monster,” she breathed.

  Isobel lifted a small shoulder. “I’ve been called worse. You just don’t matter. Elton?”

  Cobb shook his head. “Daniel will probably kill her. I want the pleasure.”

  “What about using her to draw Heath and his brothers in?” Isobel asked, her hand steady on the gun. “I’m sorry to find Heath not here already, Daniel.”

  Daniel’s chest heaved behind Anya. “You don’t understand. I have to take the night with her. There’s no other option. Afterward, I’ll bring Heath, Denver, and Ryker to you. I promise. Give me this—since she’s mine. Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Cobb snorted. “You haven’t succeeded in bringing those boys back yet. Why should we trust you now?”

  “I need this,” Daniel hissed. “She’s my soul mate, and I have to make her mine. Have to hear her scream my name.”

  Blood dripped from Anya’s neck to dot her white blouse. “Looks like a stalemate,” she said. “Daniel? I want to stay here with you. Make them go away. Give me another chance. Please?”

  He grabbed her hair and jerked her up onto her toes. The knife scraped against her skin. “I agree.”

  Isobel studied him for a moment. “Well, I think the redhead is correct. We’re at a stalemate.” She waved her gun toward Anya and stepped farther into the cabin. “One of you men needs to give in gracefully, or you need to fight it out. Either way, this is getting tiresome.”