Lethal Lies

Her forehead wrinkled. “You’re hitting on me.”

  He finally settled into the moment and let his mind clear. Let his emotions relax after the shitty last couple of days. “Yes.”

  She licked her lips.

  He groaned.

  “I’m not sure what to say, but I’m glad we’re tackling the issue.” That slight pink color traveled from her cheeks down her neck.

  He’d like to tackle her right into the bed. The storm pressed against the windows, lending a sense of intimacy to the bedroom. “No problem. I’m better when everything is out in the open. What do you think?” he asked easily, discreetly adjusting his jeans.

  She cleared her throat and focused on a spot near his left shoulder. “The whole fiancé thing and going to your hotel tonight. Then returning to Snowville and working this case together—I get why you’d want to make the most of it. I mean, thank you for the very up front offer, and I know we have to be around each other, but I don’t want to get things muddled up, you know?”

  He bit back a grin. She was as cute as she could be. “Not really. I’m better with a yes, a no, or a maybe.”

  “Maybe?” She slung the laptop bag in front of her, the pink turning rosy. “Just what would you do with a maybe?” Curiosity filled her eyes, and her head tilted just enough to be adorably flirtatious.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “I guess with a maybe I’d be charming and irresistible so you’d change that to a yes.”

  She swallowed and met his gaze. “All right. Let me get this straight. We’re going undercover to flush out a killer who’s obsessed with me, and you’re offering to play at being my man for real with no strings or future?” She hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. “That’s some ego. Are you that good in bed?”

  “Yes.” And that was definite interest in her eyes.

  She clicked her tongue. “I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

  “You do that.” He maintained a low and calm voice. “While you’re considering, let’s look at the situation. You have publicly made me your fiancé in order to draw out a killer, which means I have to act as such. Any halfway intelligent law enforcement officer or private investigator would keep his redheaded fiancée very close after the stunt you just pulled. If you’re not with me, the killer is going to be very suspicious.”

  She stilled, expressions crossing her face rapidly. “That’s a good point,” she said slowly.

  Yeah. Sometimes reality helped him out a little. Plus, the killer had a hard-on for her, and he must already have plans to take her at some point. She’d just upped the timeline. “In addition, you need protection around the clock now, and I’m willing to provide that. So while you’re keeping my offer in mind, we’ll be staying in the same hotel room or same apartment.” He made sure he had her full attention. “While we plan the wedding, of course.”

  Her challenging smile thrilled something inside him. “That’s fair.”

  He stepped back to give her some space. “Good. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She looked around the room. “I do have to ask. What if I didn’t agree with you about your keeping secrets from me? Considering people shoot at you, and I’m going to be at your side, it seems fair that you tell me who these people are.” She cocked her head to the side and focused back on him.

  “I have more immediate concerns than being fair,” he said smoothly. “You brought me into this mess.”

  A frown drew down her eyebrows. “Listen. I want an answer about you.”

  “I just gave you one.” At her mulish expression, he searched for better words that wouldn’t end in an argument.

  Suddenly, the door blew wide open and bounced loudly off the table. “Anya!” he yelled, jumping for her.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Anya yelped as Heath tackled her to the floor, rolled her behind the bed, and leaped back up in a span of seconds. Her ears rang, and her breath came out in short bursts. The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the air.

  What was happening?

  She grabbed the bedcover and forced herself to stand. Wind blew snow to swirl inside as Heath fought with a man hand to hand, both hitting hard and furiously. The guy wore all black, with a dark ski mask covering his face, and he moved as quickly as Heath did. A series of punches and kicks came from them both.

  God, they were fast and brutal. Her knees shook.

  Heath’s face was a mask of savage concentration with an odd calmness. No anger, no fear. Just raw intensity. He punched the other guy in the jaw and pivoted to land a kick on the attacker’s chest. The guy flew back and shattered the cheap mirror on the wall. Glass crashed down.

  Faster than possible, he leaped up and kicked Heath in the jaw. “That one is from Sheriff Cobb,” the guy said, his voice low and hoarse.

  Heath’s head snapped back and he fell onto the bed, then rolled backward and stood. With a ferocious roar, he shot forward and hit the attacker in the midsection, the momentum plowing them both into the wall. “Give him this in return,” Heath muttered. Sheetrock cracked and powder flew in every direction. The guy reacted with a chop to the throat and a knee to the gut.

  Heath let out a pained oof and dropped to one knee.

  “Heath!” Anya screamed. A weapon. There had to be some sort of weapon around there. Maybe a fork from dinner last night?

  Even as she scanned the room for anything she could use, Heath jumped straight up and hit the attacker beneath the jaw with his head. The guy’s skull flew back into the wall with an ominous crack.

  Heath finished with a flurry of punches to the middle of the guy’s body and then pivoted to kick the guy’s knee. The guy bellowed and swung an arm, nailing Heath in the jaw with an elbow. Who was this guy?

  How were they both standing? The blows they’d both taken would’ve knocked out a buffalo.

  The men breathed heavily, circling each other, eyes missing nothing.

  She had never in her life seen such purposeful violence. They both fought with no emotion and didn’t seem to feel pain. How was that even possible? Her knees weakened, even as her fingers tightened into a fist. Her breath panted out. She should run. Man, she should run.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. Somebody in the hotel must’ve called the police. Thank God.

  The guy stiffened and yanked out a gun.

  “Shit.” Heath leaped over the bed and straight into Anya. It was like being hit by a truck. Her body recoiled and the air whooshed out of her lungs.

  She dug her fingers into his torso and screamed. Heath’s hands clamped around her back and landed on the carpet first. His big body covered her in one long line of rippling muscle, pressing her to the floor.

  Bullets ripped into the wall above their heads.

  He grabbed her head and tucked it into his neck, holding tight.

  She whimpered against his skin.

  He shoved her half under the bed and moved into a crouch.

  She tried to clutch him, to keep him safe, but he dislodged her hold. Moving silently, he crab-walked to the end of the bed and took a deep breath. Then he jumped.

  Nothing. No sound.

  “He’s gone. Get up and move. Now.” Heath’s voice held a sharp command.

  She reacted instantly and hustled up, grabbing the laptop bag. Heath already had her suitcase in his hand and was heading for the open doorway. He more than filled it with sheer male size. She stopped. “Wait a minute. The police are coming.”

  The look he gave her dried the spit in her mouth.

  His chin lowered, and his eyes sizzled green through the goldish brown. “Move now, Anya. Now.”

  She launched into motion, her body moving before her brain could catch up. At the door, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the snowy day, keeping his body in front of hers. He looked around and then started jogging for his SUV. She had no choice but to keep up. Within seconds, they were in the car and speeding out of the hotel parking lot.

  The sirens increased in volume, and Anya
turned around to see police cars skidding into the parking lot. “Why didn’t we wait for them?” she breathed, her heart pounding sharply against her rib cage. The day fuzzed. Her head ached. She started gasping for breath.

  A large but gentle hand grasped her nape and pressed her face down to her thighs. “Deep breaths. You’re going into a panic attack. Shut your eyes and take deep breaths,” Heath said, turning the vehicle.

  She followed his orders to keep from passing out. “I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .” She gasped.

  “You can.” He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. “Shut your eyes.” His voice was low and soothing.

  She shut her eyes and concentrated on his warm palm with the scar.

  “Good. Breathe out and then in evenly. Don’t worry about filling your lungs. Just breathe a little.”

  She followed his advice, and soon the buzzing in her head subsided. Slowly, she lifted her head to see houses and snowy trees flying by outside. “Oh my God. Slow down.”

  He sped through the streets, one hand on the steering wheel, easily controlling the vehicle on the icy roads. “I will in a minute. You’re strong enough to put on your seat belt.”

  She eyed the door handle, every instinct in her body yelling at her to run, and now.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said, taking a corner at a terrifying speed.

  She turned and eyed him, her breathing quickening again. “Who are you?” she blurted out, her voice hoarse.

  He cut her a look. “Somebody you’re gonna want to obey for the next hour or so. After that, I’ll make sure you’re free to go wherever you want.”

  Obey? Did he just say obey? He’d just gotten in a brutal fight and then fled from the police. Why would he avoid the cops? Fury filled her. Who was he to order her to do anything? She opened her mouth to argue.

  “Now, Anya.”

  Her nostrils flared, and emotions rioted through her. One might be fear. Another one was certainly anger. “Listen—”

  “If I have to pull over to secure your belt, you’re not going to like me very much.” He pierced her with a hard look.

  “I don’t like you at all right now,” she spat, pressing back against the seat. The world sped by too quickly outside for her to escape, even if she could get the door open before he stopped her, which she doubted at the moment. The smart thing was to put on the belt in case he crashed, but the word obey sat like a hard lump of rock in her stomach. Her fingers inched toward the door handle.

  “Damn it.” He hit the brakes and went into a skid, spinning the SUV in a full circle. The world swirled by in a nauseating blur. She shut her eyes and held on to the dash, trying not to scream.

  He swung them around almost easily and stopped in a small parking lot of a suburban park.

  Silence fell fast and hard.

  She gingerly opened her eyes to see snow falling onto the windshield. Her mouth gaped and she turned to face him. He was a brutal fighter. She should be scared of him. Yet all she felt was completely overwhelmed and hugely defiant. What was up with that?

  He studied her, no expression on his rugged face. “You have me between a rock and a hard place here, darlin’,” he drawled.

  She blinked. “Huh?”

  “Yeah. I can’t leave you here without protection, and it doesn’t suit my purposes to take you back to your hotel with the cops there. We need to keep going until I can get you somewhere safe, and I plan on driving like a bat out of hell. To do so, and to keep my concentration where it should be, on the icy road, I need your seat belt on.” He had spoken clearly but with a definite threat of tension through every word.

  “So?” She tried to keep his gaze, but her eyes almost stung from the effort.

  “So I’d rather not put my hands on you at the moment. Period.”

  Fire lashed through her. “Seriously? Try it. Definitely try it.” Her voice had gone hoarse.

  His lips compressed. “Life isn’t always a clear path.”

  She pointed back the way they’d come, her hand shaking, she was so furious. “The police were coming. Sirens are good. Why would you run from them?”

  “Because not all cops are good.” His voice deepened and smoothed out, causing the hair to rise on the back of her neck. His eyes glittered an angry green/brown flecked with gold, and tension roiled in him like a steam engine bottled up. “Now put your damn belt on.”

  “Or what?” she challenged, more than ready to smack him in the face.

  He turned back to her, and in the darkening vehicle, his face was all strong lines and dangerous shadows. “I’ll put it on you.”

  Okay. Why did that intrigue her? Seriously. How could anger and attraction be melding inside her? The way he’d fought to protect her from the guy in the hotel room was frightening . . . and intriguing. Maybe even sexy. “Who is Sheriff Cobb?” she snapped.

  “None of your business,” he retorted quickly. “Anya—”

  “I don’t like being threatened,” she burst out.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached out and ran a gentle knuckle down her cheek.

  Yet he didn’t back down. The simple touch heated her throughout, and she shifted in her seat. “If we’re going to work together, I need the full truth.”

  He studied her. “No.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I said no.” He rolled his broad shoulders. “That guy and my wanting to avoid the police all deal with a case that has nothing to do with you and never will.”

  The words kinda cut a little. She clenched her teeth. “I’m going back.”

  He sighed. “Fine. It’ll be about a twenty-minute walk. Stick to the road.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  He glanced at the clock on the dash. “This undercover op was your idea, and you dragged me into it without even asking.”

  “So?” she challenged.

  “So?” Heat flared in his eyes. “You take your fake fiancé as you find him. We do this my way or no way.”

  She lost her voice but shook her head.

  His chin lowered just enough to give him a predatory look, which appeared perfectly natural on him. “Yes. If you want to run back to the cops, feel free.” His tone turned gravelly.

  “You’re not giving me a choice here.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. Intensity swelled from him. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll give you a choice if you choose to stay in my vehicle.” His smile was wolfish. “Either put on your belt or prepare to be pushed up against the door with my mouth on yours. I’ve had enough of being reasonable.”

  The words filtered through her anger to land hard in her abdomen. Tempting. Definitely tempting. The entire situation had leaped right out of her control. Oh, she’d wanted to challenge him and had wondered how long he’d let her. Now she knew.

  Sirens echoed again.

  “Looks like option B will have to wait. Either get out of the SUV or put on your belt.” He set the vehicle into DRIVE. “Seat belt now.”

  Her hands clenched. If she left, she’d be giving up the undercover op to catch the killer. She had to catch Loretta’s killer. Nothing else mattered. She snapped her belt into place and crossed her arms with a small huff. “Where are we going?”

  He pinned her with a look. “Exactly where you told the killer. Snowville, Washington.”

  She blinked. “That’s like a thirty-five-hour drive.”

  “Twenty-eight hours with me driving. I suggest you take a nap.”

  A nap? Yeah, right. Snowville it was, then. “I don’t get it. Why not tell the cops about the guy who just attacked us?” Unease whispered through her.

  He sighed. “You opened up an opportunity with the killer, and we don’t have time to mess around. We have to get into place and now. Plus, the guy who attacked us is long gone, and since he wore a mask, I have nothing to give the cops. Why wait?”

  It all sounded so plausible, and yet . . . “Are you wanted by the police?” she asked, her voice lowering and her breath catching.
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  He paused. “No.”

  She studied him, realizing how little she truly knew him. Was he telling the truth?

  CHAPTER

  11

  Sheriff Elton Cobb finished rifling through the nearly empty desk drawers as wind beat against the building that had once housed his prey’s detective agency. Why had they tried to settle down in Cisco, Wyoming?

  He’d known the men as boys, and he understood them. He’d bet anything this office had belonged to Heath, however briefly. The desk was glass and a dark wood, as were the file cabinets. Ryker’s probable office was chrome and glass, while Denver’s was solid cherrywood.

  Or he was dead wrong. Either way, the offices were fairly empty. Only furniture remained. Same with the apartments upstairs.

  So the rabbits had finally tried to settle down. Dumb-asses. He’d never stop hunting them. There was no peace or comfort for them, and when he caught them, there’d be no life.

  His phone dinged and he quickly read an update text.

  Operative found Heath in hotel outside DC hours ago. Fight ensued. No capture.

  Fuck. Cobb fought the urge to throw his phone across the room. No capture? To have Heath so close, almost in his grasp, made him want to hurt somebody. Bad.

  He cleared his vision and looked around the stupid office. Why had the little shits decided to put down roots in Wyoming? Was it the woman? Apparently Ryker had fallen for some paralegal from the small town. A woman who was now on the run with him as well as the other so-called brothers. While Cobb didn’t truly understand the science that had gone into creating those boys, he knew without a doubt they weren’t really brothers. He’d had a brother who’d run the orphanage kind enough to take them in. He’d loved his brother . . . and they’d killed him. Heath, Ryker, and Denver had murdered Cobb’s sole family member.

  They’d pay, and they’d pay with their lives.

  His phone dinged again, and he pressed it to his ear. “Cobb here.”

  “Hi, darling.” Isobel Madison, the only woman he’d ever loved, purred through the phone. “Tell me you’ve found something.”

  At her words, something caught his eye in the bottom of the nearest drawer. He tugged out a penciled drawing of himself with a donkey coming out of his ass and the caption FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE above it. Rage swept through him, and he turned over the paper to see a two-headed serpent, both faces Isobel’s. The caption read SYLVIA DANIELS OR ISOBEL MADISON? “I’ve found a little something.”