CHAPTER Eighteen

Fear shook her body, but Sam held the gun rock steady. Max was barely moving. So much blood. And that prick with the knife wasn’t going to hurt him again. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“It’s over,” Sam said, creeping closer.

“No…” Quinlan’s voice was soft. “It’s just beginning.”

Not for you. Because this gun wouldn’t jam. Sam took another cautious step forward. “You hear those sirens?”

And his head snapped up as he actually seemed to hear their wails for the first time.

“It’s the SSD. They’re coming for you.”

Quinlan rose and faced her head on. That’s right. Step away from Max. The sirens were so close. Hurry.

Max pushed up to his knees. She didn’t let her gaze dart to him because Quinlan still had a knife, and he was edging closer to her. “It’s over,” Sam said again.

“Bitch!” Then Quinlan seemed to crack right before her eyes. He screamed and lunged at her with fingers tight around the knife.

“Samantha!” Max’s shout. Her gaze flew to him. His eyes were full of terror and fury. As he struggled to his feet, Sam saw that his lips were moving but she couldn’t clearly hear what he was yelling because the sirens were screeching so loudly now and Quinlan was screaming as he—

“It’s over,” she whispered and pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into Quinlan—not his heart but his arm, the arm that held the knife. He howled in pain as the knife flew from his fingers and slid down the embankment.

“No!” he bellowed.

Sam watched as he wrapped his fingers around the wound.

Brakes squealed as the squad cars and unmarked SSD vehicles swarmed into the area. Backup had arrived.

She didn’t lower her gun, though. She kept it aimed right at Quinlan. “It’s not going to be that easy,” she told him, her voice soft. No death by cop for him. He’d pay for his crimes.

“Sam!” Hyde’s yell, and she’d never been so happy to hear that man’s voice in her whole life.

“Get an ambulance,” she called, trembling. The icy water had robbed her of every last bit of warmth, and each time she spoke, puffs of white appeared before her mouth.

Quinlan’s head dropped. “Not ending like this! Not ending like—”

The agents closed in on him. “Quinlan Malone,” Luke Dante’s voice snapped out, “you’re under arrest.”

Sam’s breath expelled in a hard rush. Max. She lowered the gun and tried to force her fingers to ease their too-tight grip on the weapon. They hurt. Every part of her hurt. And Max, oh, God, Max, all that blood—

“Easy.” Hyde was there, standing right in front of her. He pried the gun from her fingers. “Agent Kennedy… Sam, are you all right?”

Her teeth were chattering. The bone-deep cold shook every part of her body. “M-Max…” He was the only thing that mattered to her right then. He’d gone into the water for her. He’d actually used his own body as a shield to protect her.

Been willing to die, for me.

And she’d been more than willing to kill for him.

She hurried over and fell to her knees beside him. His eyes were open. So blue.

She touched his cheek.

“Get the EMTs over here now!” Hyde barked.

“You can’t do this!” Quinlan yelled. “I’m the victim, I’m—”

“You’re a killer,” Dante said, the words drifting to her.

Sam leaned in close to Max. His skin was so pale, and the same shudders that shook her body were shaking his. Too cold. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re safe now.”

Safe. But death had come so close.

Hands pulled at her, trying to tug her away from Max. The EMTs. She let him go even as tears tracked down her cheeks.

Then she was being guided to a stretcher. One of the EMTs started probing her wounds, and lights flashed in a red-and-blue whirl around her.

Voices droned on, but she could only clearly hear the chatter of her teeth and the fast beat of her heart.

They loaded her into the ambulance, covered her in blankets and secured her in the back. The EMTs pushed Max in next to her. Max’s head turned, and his gaze met hers.

Someone slammed the back doors.

Max’s hand lifted and reached for her. She caught his fingers, held tight. When the ambulance lurched forward, she didn’t let go.

She never wanted to let go.

“M-Max, I love you,” she whispered, needing to say the words, desperate to say them. But his lashes had fallen shut, and she knew he hadn’t heard her.

Patching Sam up was easy. The cuts on her face just needed cleaning and bandages. Her right wrist was set and put in a splint, and the docs put fifteen stitches in her left arm. They bundled her up, got her body temperature back on track, and she finally managed to stop shaking.

And started demanding to see Max.

But it wasn’t as easy to patch him back up. Two hours later, Sam was still waiting to see him. Fear tightened her insides. Be all right. You have to be—

A knock rapped at her door.

“Come in!” If her visitor was a nurse then she could grill her for information about Max.

Special Agent Kenton Lake popped his dark head in the room. “Kenton?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” Shouldn’t he be off doing a news interview? Wrapping up this mess and making the SSD look good?

He flashed her a wide smile. It was the same smile that had—once upon a time—made her heart flutter.

“Couldn’t leave without seeing you.” Kenton ambled inside and pushed the door closed behind him. “Damn, woman, when I heard about the scene with Malone…” Running a quick hand through his hair, he approached the bed.

When the Watchman had taken her and played his twisted game, Kenton had been there. When she’d opened her eyes, choking on water and struggling for breath, he’d been the first person she’d seen.

He’d also seen her, later, in the hospital. He’d seen her when she broke down, sobbing until the doctors had to drug her. He hadn’t told anyone about that. Kenton was a man who knew how to keep secrets.

But he hadn’t been the man to keep her heart. They’d dated, just casually, but he’d never made her need, never made her feel, like Max did.

His gaze raked her. “You look like hell.”

Ah, Kenton, always the sweet talker. Actually, he usually was a sweet talker. “I feel like it.” She tried to push up in the bed. Her wrist immediately protested, and a gasp broke from her lips. “They won’t tell me anything.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Max,” she sighed his name. “I need to know how he is.”

Kenton’s gaze was too watchful. “Malone’s brother?”

She nodded.

“You care about him, don’t you?”

Stop being afraid. “I’m in love with him.” And she’d tell him as soon as he could hear her.

Kenton sucked in a deep breath. “They brought Quinlan down to the office. I, uh, think there’s something you should know.”

A nurse bustled in without knocking. “Ms. Kennedy? Max Ridgeway’s out of surgery. Dr. Gretchen said I could take you to see him—just for a few minutes—if you felt up to it.” She pulled a wheelchair into the room behind her.

Up to it? Nothing would keep her out of his room. Sam’s left hand shoved back the covers, and she ignored the pain as she tried to get up.

Kenton leaned over her. “Wait.”

No, there was no waiting. “I need to see him.”

But he didn’t move. “It’s hard when you care, isn’t it? When someone else’s life matters more than your own.”

No, it wasn’t hard. It was freaking terrifying.

“But you have to be careful, Sam. Just because you love someone, it doesn’t mean they’re perfect.”

What was he talking about? She knew Max wasn’t perfect. She loved him because he wasn’t. He was real, solid, strong, and ready to take on hell for her. A woman couldn’t ask for more. Perfection could wait.

“Quinlan says…” Kenton leaned in even closer to her and dropped his voice so that the nurse couldn’t overhear his words. “Quinlan is saying that Ridgeway was in on the kidnappings from the very beginning. He says they planned everything together and that Max only changed the plan because he fell for you.”

She shook her head. “No, no, Max wouldn’t do that—”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to listen to any more. I need Max.

Kenton inclined his head in a grim nod. “You trust him that much?”

“I do.” She’d seen the sick horror on Max’s face. The fury when he realized just what his brother had done. No, Max hadn’t been in on the crimes, no matter what crap his brother was spewing. Max wasn’t like Quinlan.

Not evil.

She climbed carefully from the bed, but shook her head at the nurse. “I don’t need that chair. Just tell me where he is.” I’m coming, Max.

The nurse blinked. “Room… ah… 212, just down the hallway.”

Sam kept her head up and her spine straight as she walked.

“Sam!”

She glanced back at Kenton’s cry.

“You did good on this one. Damn good.”

“Thanks.”

“I always knew you had a core of steel. You walked through hell, and it just made you stronger.” His lips lifted the faintest bit. “You didn’t break.”

She knew he’d been through his own nightmare. The man had walked through fire on his last case with the SSD. She forced a smile to her lips. “Neither did you.”

“And we’re stronger for it. Remember that. You’re not weak, Sam, and you never have been.” Because he knew her well. “You beat that bastard before, and you beat this one, too.”

Yes, she had. But she’d had help. A man who’d willingly stepped between her and a killer.

How was a woman supposed to walk away from a guy like that?

She wasn’t. She was supposed to stay with him, screw what came, and fight like crazy for a future.

The machines surrounding Max beeped and whirred. His face was pale, and his lips were still tinged a bit blue. Bandages covered most of his upper body and mid-section.

“It took a long time to close those wounds,” the young doctor beside her murmured. “Someone sure did a number on him.”

Sam’s hand reached for Max’s. “How long until he’s awake?”

“He’ll drift in and out for a while, but he needs to sleep. After all that blood loss, he needs to rest.” The doctor slanted her an assessing glance. “So do you.”

She saw the redness in his eyes. Another long night for the doc. “There’s a chair right here. I’ll be fine.”

His lips tightened but he gave a curt nod. “Anyone we need to notify? Family?”

Someone sure did a number on him. “His family knows.”

He closed his clipboard. “All right then, when your boyfriend opens his eyes, let him know that he’s lucky. Very lucky. The shot in his thigh nicked an artery but the cold water slowed down the bleeding. If the vessels hadn’t constricted…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Going into the water saved his life.”

“No.” Her fingers tightened around Max’s. “When he went into the water, he saved my life.”

The door clicked shut behind the doctor. Sam used her foot to pull the chair closer to the bed, and then she sat, holding tight to Max’s hand. The night stretched before her, long and dark.

The darkness didn’t scare her. Never had. And even the cold embrace of the water hadn’t stirred the terror. But the moment when she’d thought Max was lost to her, when Quinlan had closed in with that knife…

Fear choked me.

“Wake up,” she whispered to him, leaning closer to the bed. “I need to tell—”

His lashes fluttered, and Sam stilled. “Max?”

The beeping grew faster. A groan escaped his lips.

Max. She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Do you hear me, Max? You’re safe. You’re in a hospital, everything’s fine and—”

His lips moved. A soundless whisper.

“I couldn’t—Max, I couldn’t hear you.”

His lashes cracked open. His eyes met hers. “Kill… him…”

Those words—they were the same words that he’d yelled to her when Quinlan had lunged at her with the knife. Her life versus Quinlan’s. Max had chosen.

But she hadn’t made the kill. “I didn’t have to,” she said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his face. “The SSD came. They took him into custody.”

His gaze looked so weak. She wasn’t even sure if he could focus on her.

“He won’t hurt anyone else,” she promised him. “He’ll be…”

“Cage…”

And she remembered the words she’d said to him so long ago. They belong in cages, far away from innocent people. She swallowed to ease the lump in her throat. “He’s going to prison. The SSD will make sure he doesn’t get out any time soon.”

Max’s eyes fluttered closed. “Over.”

“For him.” It hurt to see the pain on his face. The only remaining member of his family had been a psychotic bastard who’d tried to kill him. “Not for you though, Max. You’re going to be okay, do you hear me? The doctors patched you up, and you’re going to be fine. For you, everything’s just beginning.”

Max woke up in a cold sweat, his body shuddering and Samantha’s name on his lips.

“Shh… it’s okay.” Her whisper came to him in the darkness, and it took him a moment to understand….

Not in the hospital. After nearly seven days, he’d finally been released. He hadn’t gone back to Frank’s place—he couldn’t stand the thought of that—and Samantha hadn’t wanted him to be alone.

Her place. Her scent surrounded him, her soft bed cushioned him, and the feather-light weight of her hand pressed against his chest. “It’s just a dream,” she told him. “You’re safe. It’s over.”

He’d been back at that river. Quinlan had been there, firing his gun, and Max hadn’t been able to get to Samantha. Her body had floated to the surface. And he’d lost her.

He rolled, wrapping his arms around her and holding tight.

“Max, no, your stitches!”

Screw them. The pain just made him realize that he was alive. She was alive. And he’d be damned if he lost his chance with her.

His lips found hers in the darkness, and he kissed her with a desperate desire that fired his blood. A need only she could satisfy. She’d slipped past his guard, gotten under his skin, and he knew he’d never be the same without her.

But her hands were pushing against him, not holding him close, and the ache ripped through him.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” her husky whisper filled his ears.

“Not having you will hurt a lot more.” Didn’t she understand? Lust tightened his body. His cock was already hard and swollen, but the need for her was so much more. A hollow ache inside his chest.

Need her. Flesh to flesh. Want her. All that she is. Everything.

Her hands pushed him, and Max found himself flat on his back.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, the words drifting in the dark, and a rough laugh built in his chest.

“You won’t.” Unless she left.

The sheets rustled, the cool air hit his legs, and then warm flesh was above him as she straddled his hips. Samantha was careful not to jostle his healing leg or to touch the wounds on his stomach.

She stared down at him, and in the faint moonlight, he could see the darkness of her eyes.

No panties. Her legs were spread, and his cock pushed against the hot core of her body. His hand slipped between them, found the center of her need, and his fingers stroked her. Max wanted her to be as ready, as desperate, as he was.

She arched against him, and a soft moan slipped past her lips. Not good enough.

His thumb pressed harder. Her hips pushed back against him. Max found the tight opening of her body and thrust two fingers inside. Proof of her arousal coated his fingers.

His fingers worked her body. Max touched her the way he knew she liked. Building the arousal. Pushing her to the edge. Her sex clamped around his fingers. The delicate muscles squeezed in a strong grip, and he wanted her around his cock. Wanted to be driving deep into her. So deep that she’d never be free of him. So deep that she’d know, always, that she was…

Mine.

“Max!” Need choked in the word, and then her fingers were on his cock, soft and delicate, touching and stroking, and he had to clench his back teeth.

She guided his cock, positioning it right at the entrance to her body. So wet and warm. Nothing between them, nothing—

Condom. “Samantha—”

“I’m safe,” she managed, tossing back her hair.

So was he. And if she wanted skin to skin…

She eased down and took him inside her body.

And it was heaven. Hell. So good he lost his breath. So tight that he nearly came at the first hot glide of her body. He forgot the pain and only knew her.

Max worked the rhythm with her, lifting his hips up to meet her, holding tight, and keeping his eyes on her.

Samantha. The woman he’d nearly died for. The woman he would have killed for.

Her moans filled the air. His fingers dug too deeply into her hips, but he couldn’t stop. Need her too much.

Her nails bit into his shoulders. Her sex rippled around him, and then she was coming, whispering his name and arching above him.

Beautiful.

Her climax shivered around his cock, and he exploded into her as a wave of hot pleasure pulsed through his body. Max wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

Because he wasn’t letting her go. No matter what nightmares might come—for him, for her—he wasn’t letting her go.

When the passion eased, she slid down to his side. Her hand lay over his chest, right over his heart. And he didn’t speak because he knew what tomorrow would bring: the face-off with his stepbrother. The last round of questions. The future.

After a while her breathing eased, and he knew she slept beside him. But he didn’t sleep because he didn’t want to see her die again in his nightmares. So he held her in the darkness and wondered how a woman who fought killers could love one.

The next morning, Max walked with Samantha down the long, winding hallway. The clank of metal bars sounded behind them. He knew that sound well. For years, it had haunted his dreams. The sound of freedom being ripped away.

But this time, it wasn’t his freedom. It was his stepbrother’s.

Samantha’s delicate fingers tightened around his. He was limping a bit, thanks to the bullet wound Quinlan had put in his thigh.

Then Monica Davenport was there, stepping forward with Ramirez by her side. They motioned toward the small conference room they’d been given. An empty table waited.

“You understand what’s happening here today?” Monica murmured.

He rolled his shoulder and felt the pull of stitches. Last night, he hadn’t even given a thought to his injuries. Sex and Samantha had made him forget. “Yeah, Quinlan’s about to lie his ass off to try and cut down his prison term.” Or to make me look guilty. Samantha had already told him about Quinlan’s accusations.

Monica’s gaze was assessing. “I’ve asked the DA to wait outside a bit. I want you to have the chance to talk to your brother first.”

His brows climbed. “What good will that do?”

“I think you can make him confess. To everything.” She offered a small, brittle smile. Ramirez watched them with guarded eyes.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Max asked. Samantha’s hand held tight to his.

“No, I’m not.”

“The guy wants me dead. He’s not gonna want to confess!”

“Your brother always wanted his father’s attention, didn’t he?” Monica mused. “The only son, at least for a long time, the one who never quite measured up.”

Piss-poor excuse for a son… Frank’s voice echoed in his mind. Max swallowed.

“The killings weren’t about money. We looked at it all wrong. The money—that’s just the surface,” Monica said, with a wave of her hand. “He took the golden boys—the rich boys with doting dads—and he made the fathers prove how much they loved their sons.”

Max shook his head. “That’s fucked up.”

“That’s Quinlan.” Finally Ramirez spoke. “He could have taken the money and run after the first two snatches, but instead he got to where the money couldn’t compete with the pleasure he took from slicing open his victims.”

“And himself.” Monica reached for a file on the table. “I’ve got doctors’ records—”

“Aren’t those supposed to be confidential?” Max demanded. Beside him, Samantha leaned forward and peered at the files.

“About as confidential as your manslaughter conviction,” Ramirez murmured, locking his gaze on Max.

“Screw off.” Max wasn’t in the mood for any agent bullshit.

“What do the records say?” Samantha wanted to know.

“That at age fourteen, Quinlan Malone was admitted to St. John’s Hospital because he had lacerations on his upper chest.” Monica raised a black brow. “He said he fell onto a fence, but the attending physician suspected otherwise and referred Frank Malone to a psychiatrist.” Monica closed the folder and her gaze returned to Max. “Seems your stepbrother liked to injure himself.”

Sliced off his own finger.

“Self-injuries like that can be triggered by depression, anxiety, an emotional stressor, or—”

“Frank met my mom when Quinlan was fourteen,” Max gritted out from between clenched teeth.

Monica nodded. “Do you know why Nathan Donnelley was employed by your father?”

“He was my dad’s doctor.”

“Actually,” now Monica’s gaze turned to Samantha, “he wasn’t.”

Max glanced back at Samantha.

A little shrug lifted Samantha’s shoulders. “I hacked into his computer and found some old files. When Donnelly started working with Malone, he was there to take care of Quinlan.” She paused, then said, “Frank was tired of the doctors at St. John’s asking questions.”

Max swallowed and felt the punch in his gut. “He’s sick. Quinlan needs help.” And it twisted his heart that he hadn’t seen it sooner. Could I have stopped this? Stopped him? Saved those—

“If you believe that,” Monica interjected smoothly, “if you really think he needs help, then we need you to help us. Get a confession out of him, and we’ll make sure he gets psych treatments during his incarceration.”

“For how long?” His temples pounded. “How long’s he gonna be locked up?”

She didn’t answer, but he already knew. Forever.

Ramirez glanced down at his watch. “They’ll be here soon.”

Max turned his head and gazed down into Samantha’s eyes. He just wanted her, and, fucking miracle, she seemed to want him. Even with what his brother had done to her, she wanted him.

He would do anything to keep her by his side. Anything to keep her in his life. He bent and brushed his lips across hers.

“I’ll talk to Quinlan.” He released his hold on Samantha. “For all the damn good it will do.”

Max didn’t rise when Quinlan was led into the conference room.

Quinlan smirked at him. “Knew you’d be coming by, sooner or later.”

“You can’t talk to him.” The tall, thin man in the suit next to Quinlan—the guy had to be his lawyer—shook his head. “This is highly irregular. We need to get the DA in here. You need to—”

“We need to talk,” Max said, putting his hands flat on the table.

Quinlan laughed. “Yeah, yeah, we do.” He jerked his thumb at the lawyer. “Get out of here.”

The lawyer’s eyes widened. “Don’t you see what’s happening here?” He waved toward the mirror. “They’re watching you. Recording everything you say. It’s just a—”

“When I want your opinion,” Quinlan muttered, “I’ll damn well tell you.”

The lawyer’s face slackened with surprise.

“Now get the hell out.”

“You’re making a mistake!” The man shook his head. “Fine. Your damn funeral, kid.” Then he shoved past the two guards who’d brought Quinlan in.

Quinlan shuffled forward. A guard leaned down and cuffed one of Quinlan’s hands to the side of the table.

“You good?” The guard asked Max.

Max nodded. Not really.

The guards left them alone. Probably the SSD’s order. Max didn’t speak at first. He just stared at Quinlan. His stepbrother was paler, and the orange prison garb was too bright.

“Don’t!” Quinlan snapped. “Don’t you dare pity me.”

But part of Max did. And the other part wanted to jump across the table and rip the asshole in half. His palms pressed harder into the table. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

Quinlan leaned back as far as the cuffs would let him. “Don’t you mean your agent whore has some questions?” He smirked. “I knew she was an FBI bitch the whole time. Kevin told me when she came into The Core, asking all her questions.” His jaw hardened. “I warned you not to get the cops, but you were screwing her—”

“I’ve been thinking about you.” Max bit back the rage as he cut through Quinlan’s words. “The SSD called me in today. Said if I got you to confess, they’d give you therapy.”

“I don’t need fucking therapy! I’m not sick!”

“I don’t give a shit if you are or not.”

Quinlan blinked.

“I don’t give a damn if they open up the cell, shove your ass in, and never pull you back out.”

Quinlan shook his head. “No, you don’t—”

Max’s fists slammed into the table. “You killed Frank.”

“The asshole needed to be put down.”

“And then…” Max leaned forward. “You made your worst mistake. You came after her.”

Quinlan stilled.

“You’re lucky she was the one with the gun, because I would have blown your head off and never hesitated.” Disgust had his jaw tightening. “Therapy? They think you need therapy? Nothing’s gonna fix you. You’re broken, twisted. Hell, we never expected you to amount to much anyway. Dropped out of college, couldn’t hold a job, and shit, now everyone knows that you’re just a fucking psycho—”

“Shut up!” Quinlan was on his feet, the table jerking toward him as he yanked his arms up and the cuffs stretched taut. “Just shut the hell up! You sound just like him! Never fucking good enough! No matter what I did. But I showed him! I showed every damn one! It was me. I did it. I planned it fucking all. I was king, I was God, I could do whatever I wanted—”

“And you wanted to kill.” Softer, sadder, because Max had gotten what the agents needed. And he’d known just what to say.

He’d said what Frank would have told his son. So easy, really.

“I wanted to show those bastards that life wasn’t perfect! Daddy couldn’t always bail their asses out!” Quinlan’s face reddened.

Couldn’t or wouldn’t?

“Did Beth beg?” Max asked because he had to. They were watching. He just wanted this over. Wanted it all over. Staring into Quinlan’s eyes now… I don’t see the same man. A stranger stared back at him with eyes that were too bright.

“Hell, yeah. She begged, she pleaded, and she promised me any damn thing I wanted.” His lips twisted. “But I just wanted the bitch to die. This was my show, and she tried to screw with me—”

“A show?” Max’s stomach tightened. “Is that all this was?” A show to prove that he was the best.

Quinlan’s left hand slammed onto the table. “The cops couldn’t catch me. The Feds couldn’t stop me. Those assholes begged for their lives, but they weren’t worth enough.”

And how much was enough?

“What did you do with the money?” Max kept his eyes on Quinlan.

“I’ll never tell.” Quinlan slowly lowered back into the chair. Some of his rage seemed to have cooled just that fast. “I’m going to get out. The shrinks will say I’m crazy, and I’ll get out.” A wider grin spread on his face. “I’ll get out, I’ll get my money, and I’ll be looking for you, brother.”

And he realized that Quinlan had a plan. Had always had his plan. “All those times you cut yourself…”

“Ah, good, they know about those already.” Quinlan inclined his head toward the mirror. “I’m just a poor, sick boy, never given enough attention, always having to compete with the killer in my own home. A killer.” He shook his head and pointed at Max. “Not a very good role model for a guy, huh? I wonder…” Quinlan licked his lips. “Do you think your kids will be as screwed up as me? I mean, with you as—”

The door flew open. “Enough.”

Samantha stood there, breath heaving and fire raging in her eyes. “We’re done here.”

Quinlan laughed. “Knew the bitch was there. I was hoping she’d come out to join us.”

Max’s vision went red. “Don’t even fucking look at her.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Quinlan promised.

I’ll get out….

“We’ve got everything we need, Max. It’s over.” She came toward him and took his hand. “It’s time to go.”

His fingers locked around hers. He rose, pulling her close. Her sweet scent filled his nose. Life. Hope.

So much more.

Love.

“Don’t trust him, sweetheart,” Quinlan taunted. “He’s playing innocent, but he knew what I was doing. Why do you think he was at The Core that night? He was there to meet Veronica, to set up the next vic. He might have been screwing you, but it was just so he could cover his own ass. He didn’t—”

Her fingers brushed Max’s cheek. “He’s not worth it,” she said, and the words were clear, strong.

Silence.

Then Quinlan’s face mottled, and he yelled, “Fucking bitch! You fucking bitch, I’ll slice you open! I’ll make you beg, make you scream, and I’ll make him watch!” Spit flew from Quinlan’s mouth.

Max took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Then he looked back at Quinlan. Veins bulged from his brother’s neck and his eyes were wide, wild. “You’re not going to see daylight again,” he told him.

Quinlan glared at him, hate twisting his face.

“They’re going to throw you into a ten-by-eight room. They’ll keep you locked up like a dog, and you won’t get out.” He’ll never touch her. “But if you do somehow worm your way out of prison,” and Max moved, deliberately shifting his body so that Quinlan couldn’t see Samantha, “if by some stroke of the devil, you get out, I will find you. And trust me, Quinlan, you’ll be the one who begs because I will never let you hurt anyone else I love.”

Max held Quinlan’s stare, needing to break through the madness and make sure his brother understood. “If I see you again,” he said, “you’re dead.”

When Sam and Max walked outside, the wind blew her hair, tossing it around her face. She shoved it back and stared at Max, aware that her fingers were trembling. “Max, the case is over now. We’ve got enough evidence to keep Quinlan locked up for the rest of his life. You’re clear; you don’t have to worry.”

Silence.

“Kenton’s going to give a press conference with Hyde later today. They’re planning to tie up the loose ends.” She stepped closer. “It’s over.”

“The case might be.” He caught her left wrist and chained her to him. “We’re not.”

The knot in her stomach seemed to ease. “What do you want from me?” As direct as she could be.

Those blue eyes, so intense, searched her face. Then… “Forever. I want forever, baby.”

And the fear melted away. Her lips lifted into a trembling smile. “So do I.”

His mouth took hers. Desperate hunger, need, lust. Love.

Max.

Hers.

“Everything’s been so screwed up,” Max murmured against her lips. “Started it all wrong, then the case, Frank, Quinlan…”

Pain echoed in his voice. But she’d help him to deal with the pain, just as he’d helped her.

His head lifted, and he gazed down at her with gleaming eyes. “Can you be with me, knowing what he did, can you—”

“Try to stop me.” Max wasn’t Quinlan. “You saved me in that river. You came into the water and—”

“And I wouldn’t have come out without you.” Flat. “Don’t you know yet, baby? Haven’t you realized…?”

She waited, waited.

“I love you.” Simple. Solid. His stare never wavered. “I never thought I’d love a woman like this, but I swear, when I’m with you, I can’t even think straight half the time. I want you, I need you, and I damn well love you more than anything in this world.”

She put her left hand on his shoulder. “And I love you, Max Ridgeway.” The stranger she’d taken to her bed. The lover who’d comforted her in the night. The man who’d pulled her from hell.

They’d started fast, started red-hot, and gone barreling through the darkness. More darkness might come—that was just part of life—but they’d be together.

She’d spent her whole life looking for a man like him. Someone to fight for her, someone to hold her, and someone to stir her desire. Someone who thought she was worth fighting for, worth dying for.

Someone… Max.

She stood on her toes and kissed him.

Worth the world. And more.