“I started cutting him.”
Bile rose in Frank’s throat. “D-don’t—” He bit back the word.
“He screamed, and he begged me to stop.” A soft laugh. “Your boy’s a bleeder, but you know that, don’t you?”
An image of red flashed through his mind, and his whole body shuddered. Quinlan.
“A couple more slashes with my knife, and he’ll be gone.”
“No.” Frank couldn’t hold back the whisper.
“Doesn’t seem right. I mean, you were the one who messed up the trade, not that piece of crap son you have.”
“Then take me,” he rasped.
More laughter. “You just can’t shut the hell up, can you?”
Frank’s eyes darted around the room. He had to get out of there. Had to go—
“I’ll take you. You for him, old man. A sweet trade.” Silence, then, “Is he worth that much? Is he worth your life?”
Frank turned and stared into the mirror. He saw the lines and the white hair, the age spots that dotted his skin. What did he have? After all these years, what did he have? Money, hell yes, and he’d enjoyed the shit out of his fortune, but…
Alone.
Ever since Katie had died, he’d been so alone. Even the pills couldn’t ease the ache inside him.
The only thing I have…
Quinlan.
So the answer, the only answer he had was, “Yes.”
“Then get out of there, bastard. Get away from those agents, and I’ll trade your son for your life.”
A soft click sounded in his ear. He stared in the mirror. Had they seen? They couldn’t know. They couldn’t.
He lifted his chin. He was Fuck ’em Frank. He could do anything that he wanted.
Frank shoved out of his chair and marched to the door. He grabbed the knob and yanked the door open. Not a prisoner. No one could hold him, never could. Once outside, phones rang. Voices buzzed. His shoes slapped against the tiled floor.
“Wait, Mr. Malone!” The agent, Kim Daniels, called his name. “There’s something I need to tell—”
He glanced over his shoulder, barely sparing her a glance. “I’m getting some air.” He hurried his steps, all too aware of the slight weight of his phone in his front pocket.
“Then I’ll come with you.” Ramirez appeared at the corner. That agent could move so quietly.
Frank glared at him. “The hell you are. Get out of my way. I want out of here.”
“Frank?” Max’s voice. His stepson hurried toward him. “What’s going on?”
Damn but that man favored his mother. Looking at him hurt. Because he could stare into Katie’s eyes. He’d let her down. When she’d found him in bed with Beth… didn’t mean anything to me. Shit, why, why had I done it? He still couldn’t remember why he’d crawled into her bed the first time. Couldn’t remember crawling there because he’d been so drunk. He just remembered waking and realizing that he’d screwed up.
Then the cancer had started eating away at Katie. It had touched her, and she’d never let him touch her again.
Gone.
Everything, gone.
Not Quinlan. Not yet.
“These ass**les have messed up the case.” Frank jerked his thumb toward the agents. “I’m getting out of here. Going back home. Maybe—maybe Quinlan will contact me there.” Fuck ’em. You can do this. Don’t let them see…
“Sir, it’s not safe for you to—” Kim began.
“I wasn’t asking.”
“They tried to kill you,” Ramirez said, his voice flat. “Until this is over, you’re not safe.”
“I’ll have a dozen guards at my house. My guards.” But he wouldn’t be calling the guards. This time, he’d do everything the kidnapper wanted. “I’ll be fine.”
But Max was still watching and staring with eyes like Katie’s. Max knew what he’d done. He knew, and Max had hated him for breaking Katie’s heart.
Sweet Katie. She’d loved him, not the money.
Always about the money.
Not for her.
“Frank…” Max stepped closer. “Is everything all right?”
No, and life hadn’t been, not for years. “You’re like her.” It slipped out. Dammit. But… “That’s good.” Too many people were twisted up, with crap for priorities.
He’d been the one to twist Quinlan. He’d shoved that boy aside when he was younger and left him alone for too long.
Not anymore. Time for atonement. “I’m getting out of here.”
Max grabbed his arm. “We will find him.”
Always hopeful. Katie had been like that, too. Until those last few days. Then she’d just given up.
Frank nodded grimly. “Right.” He would find his son.
They went back to Max’s place first. Sam knew he wanted to ditch his bloody clothes. She felt the battle-ready energy in him as the elevator rose. He didn’t speak. Neither did she.
I almost lost him.
The elevator doors opened. They walked down the hallway. He opened the door; she went inside—
And found her back pushed against the wall as Max pinned her and took her lips in a long, deep kiss.
Her hands lifted, then hesitated as she remembered the bullet wound. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“Fuck it,” Max growled as his mouth rose. “Touch me.” His hands were sliding under her shirt. Such warm, strong hands. Need tightened her body as his fingers curled around her br**sts. Just a touch, and she ignited.
With him, Sam suspected that would always be the case.
“I want you.” His gaze was stark.
And she wanted him.
But Sam’s hands pushed against his body. “Easy.” Her whisper.
Jaw clenched, Max stepped back. “Fine, we don’t have to—”
Oh, yes, they did. But they had to be fast, and she had to take him.
“Get on the sofa,” Sam’s voice trembled when she gave the order. Max’s eyes narrowed a bit, but then he moved back and sprawled on the wide sofa.
Sam swallowed and began to strip. She heard the low growl that built in Max’s throat as her shirt and pants hit the carpet with a soft rustle.
Want him. Need him. She unhooked her bra and let the lace drift to the floor. The only garment she wore now was her panties. She walked toward him, and his gaze seemed to drink in her body.
She could see the thick bulge of his arousal, and she wanted his c**k inside her. Driving deep. She wanted wild and hot but…