Deceptions (3 page)

Before?
Just how many secrets was the pretty librarian keeping from him?

“This isn't your problem,” she said, swallowing. “I'm not your problem.”

Yes, you are.
“Hire me.”

“I—I don't have the money—”

“We can work out a deal.” He didn't care about her money. He cared about her safety. Cared about getting rid of the fear in her eyes. “You need protection. You need help. Baby, you need me.”

“Did you...did you just call me
baby
?”

He had. A slip. Mac cleared his throat. “A killer has you in his sights. That's plain to see. You won't let the cops help you, then let me help you. You know what McGuire Securities can do.”

“I've heard some stories about your family,” she allowed.

Okay, that might not be the best thing. The stories that circulated about him and his brothers—those stories weren't always the warm and cuddly sort. More like the type to give a person nightmares. “You want us on your side. Whatever is going on here, do you really want to face it alone?”

Her gaze lowered, and her long, dark lashes fell against her cheeks. He was aware right then of just how close he was to her. Their bodies brushed. His hands were still curved around her shoulders. He'd been secretly fantasizing about the woman for weeks—and now she was in his grasp.

Too bad it had taken danger and death to bring them together.

“Twenty-four hours,” he threw out, because he wasn't going to let her leave that office without help. “Give me twenty-four hours to figure out what's happening and to see if we can stop the creep out there.”

Her lashes lifted. “You're going to take me back to the cops, aren't you?”

Unfortunately, he was. Not that he trusted cops one hundred percent, either, not with his family's track record, but... “You have to tell them about that phone call. Tell them what the guy said to you. If you don't, you're obstructing justice. You're just making it harder for them to find the bastard we're after.” He got it—she didn't trust cops, but they didn't have an option, not now. “I'll stay with you, every minute. And then...”

“Then you want your twenty-four hours.”

He nodded. “Then I want you to start telling me some of the secrets you carry, and I want you to trust me and my family to keep you safe
and
to track down that killer.”

The drumming of his heartbeat filled his ears. Twenty-four hours. That wasn't all he wanted, not by a long shot. But it was a start. Step one.

“Okay...”

Satisfaction burned through him.

“But I have to pay you. Some way, I'll pay you.”

“We'll get to payment later. For now we have a detective who we need to call.”

* * *

“I
S
THERE
ANYTHING
ELSE
?”
the blonde detective asked Elizabeth, her light blue eyes holding more than a hint of suspicion. “Because if the caller said anything else to you...”

“He didn't,” Elizabeth told her quickly. The last hour had been spent in Mac's office while Detective Melinda Chafer asked question after question.
At least she didn't make me go to the station.

And had Mac been right before? Was it technically obstruction since the cops at the scene of the murder had never asked Elizabeth about the phone call? She didn't think so, not exactly, but...

I've messed up. I know it. Fear made me just want to keep my head down and run.
But keeping her head down and running wasn't an MO that she could follow this time.

Or maybe she was just tired of running.

“What's your connection to Steve Yeldon?” Melinda asked. “Why did he call you?”

Right. Well, if she was going to talk then there was no sense holding back now. She was far too aware of Mac's heavy gaze on her.

“Eight years ago I was...my boyfriend was killed. Nate Daniels. His name was Nate.” She didn't like to think of Nate, because it hurt too much. “The cops never found his killer.”
Tell her. Just say it.
“And a lot of people in that area, they thought that maybe I was the killer.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mac stiffen.

Right. And
this
was why she hadn't told the cops about her connection to Steve Yeldon right away. One of the reasons, anyway. She hated it when people looked at her with suspicion.

“Did you kill him?” Melinda asked with no inflection in her voice.

“No.”
Keep it simple.
“Steve was one of the few people who didn't think I was guilty. And for a while, I know he was doing some big exposés, trying to find the
real
killer.”

Melinda's gaze was still on her. “Was that real killer ever found?”

“No. Or at least...” Goose bumps were on her arms. “I didn't think he was. But with Steve dead and the guy on the phone telling me that he's going to be coming for me...”

Melinda nodded. “You think Steve might have uncovered his identity.”

“I think it's possible.”

Mac strode closer to her. “Maybe the killer thinks you know something that can identify him.”

Her hands twisted together in her lap. “It's been
eight
years. If I knew something, I would have said it by now.” She didn't, though. She didn't know anything about the guy's identity. So she'd just kept moving. Kept going forward. New towns, new people.
A new life.

“If the killer is in Austin...” Melinda stood up. “You're in danger.”

Like she hadn't already figured that out.

“Is that why you stayed silent at the crime scene?” Melinda pushed her with a low question. “Because you were afraid the killer was after you, too?” Before Elizabeth could answer, the detective shook her head. “Staying silent won't save you. It'll just make it easier for you to die.”

Well, that was cheery news.

Melinda looked over at Mac. “I guess she has McGuire protection now, huh? I think that's probably a real good thing. Keep me in the loop, and maybe I can do the same for you.”

He took out a card and gave it to the detective. Then he escorted the detective outside.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Elizabeth jumped from her seat and started pacing. The sun was up now. A new day. Exhaustion pulled at her, and she really just wanted to go home and crash.

In twenty-four hours, she'd lost the perfect life she'd built. She'd been hunted, she'd found a dead man and now...now all of the dirty little secrets from her past were about to tumble out.

No good. Trouble.

Party girl...always causing trouble.

It's her fault he's dead.

Her palms rubbed against her eyes as she tried to block the flood of memories, but those stupid whispers kept filling her ears.

“Elizabeth?”

He was back. She hadn't even heard the door open. He needed to stop that whole ninja-walking technique he had going on. Elizabeth lowered her hands and turned to face him. “I have to get home.”

He nodded. “I'll take you.”

No argument? No grilling? No demand to know more about her dead ex?

“You look as if you're about to fall down at any moment.” His lips quirked. “Don't get me wrong. You're still as pretty as can be, but I know when a person is about to crash.” He lifted his hand toward her, and she found herself reaching out and twining her fingers with his. “You can tell me everything when you wake up.”

No, I can't.
He had no idea just how tangled her life truly was. Or how hard she'd worked to put the past behind her. She wasn't the same woman. She wouldn't allow herself to be.

The past should have stayed dead. Instead, it had just come killing again.

* * *

H
E
HADN
'
T
COUNTED
on the PI.

Elizabeth Snow had aligned herself with a powerful man—or rather, a powerful family. The McGuires were well-known in the area, and frankly, they were trouble that he didn't want.

He watched as Elizabeth and Mac McGuire left McGuire Securities. He kept his phone near his ear, as if he was intently listening to a caller. His hat was pulled down low, and his collar was turned up. He wore sunglasses—not just to hide his face but because his eyes were still red, courtesy of Elizabeth's damned spray.

As the couple headed down the street, he noticed that Mac seemed far more focused on Elizabeth than he was on any potential threats.

That will be a mistake.

But Elizabeth had a way of pulling men to her. Sure, she looked different now. She acted different. And being a librarian? An interesting change for her.

Mac opened his car door for Elizabeth. Then his gaze swept the street.

He turned away before Mac could lock that gaze on him, and he hurried down the street. Now wasn't the time for an attack. It had been easy enough to take out Yeldon. The fool hadn't realized the extent of the danger he courted. And when Yeldon had told him about Elizabeth...

I should have killed her years before. Unfinished business is such a damn pain.

He'd thought Elizabeth didn't know anything that would incriminate him, but now Yeldon had him doubting that truth. He sure couldn't risk any exposure. Too much was at stake. Far, far too much.

Mac's car drove past him.

Elizabeth had talked to a female detective earlier. He'd watched her leave, too. He'd have to find out just what she'd learned...
before
she had time to launch a full investigation that might lead back to him. He'd see if cash would work with her. Often, secrecy and safety were really all about just giving the right amount of money to the right person.

Of course, if the blonde was one of those annoying cops that
couldn't
be bought, then he'd just deal with her in another manner.

So many loose ends... He would be eliminating them all. It was a good thing he was so talented with fixing problems.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth was late for work. Not a little late, but very, very late. She had a 1:00 p.m. shift, but it was close to two when Elizabeth dashed out her front door.

She'd taken five stumbling steps on her sidewalk when she remembered...
I don't have a car!
She'd left it in Austin and—

Her frantic gaze locked on the sturdy frame of her car, parked at the end of her driveway. Relief rushed through her. Mac must have brought it back for her. He'd dropped her off, she'd crashed and had terrible nightmares and now—

Now a man was walking toward her. He'd just exited the SUV parked near Ms. Lee's mailbox. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair. His sunglasses shielded his gaze, but the expression on his face sure looked intent and determined.

Elizabeth staggered and wobbled in her heels. “Stay back!”

“I'm Sullivan.”

Sullivan? That name was oddly familiar, and he
looked
familiar, too.

“Mac's brother,” he told her as he took off the glasses. Sure enough, he had the distinct McGuire green gaze. “And I'm your protection for the day.”

Her protection? “I thought Mac was handling the case.”

“With the McGuires, you don't just get one of us, you get us all.”

That was...reassuring?

His hand lifted, and he dangled some keys from his fingertips. “I figured you might need these, considering the way you were racing toward the car.”

“Did you bring it over?”

“Mac did.”

She took the keys. “Thank you. I—I have to get to work. I called my boss and told her I was running late. I'm
never
late.” It seemed important to tell him that. Who knew what he'd already heard about her?

His head inclined. “I'll be tailing you.”

He was— “Are you really going to be following me? All day?”

“Just until Mac gets back.”

Her fingers curled around the keys. “And where is Mac, exactly?”

“At the morgue.”

She backed up a step.

“He's learning more about the dead reporter and seeing if he can discover what evidence the cops have so far.”

No, it wasn't all a bad dream. A killer is out there, and he may be watching me.
Her gaze darted down the street. Everything looked normal.

“Just how well do you know my brother?” Sullivan asked her as he studied her.

“Not well. I'm his librarian.”

Sullivan's dark brows shot up, and his lips curved. “Right.”

“I am.” She straightened her shoulders. “And like I told you, I'm late. So I really have to hurry.” She scrambled past him and unlocked her car. But before she slid in, Elizabeth said, “Thank you. For the protection, I mean. I appreciate it.”

He inclined his head toward her. “I get the feeling that if anything happened to you, there'd be hell to pay from Mac. I guess he's pretty fond of his librarian.”

What? Shaking her head, she cranked the car and drove away. A quick glance in her mirror showed that Sullivan was coming after her, climbing into that SUV and following right behind her.

Protection.

She shivered.

* * *

T
HE
PHONE
ON
her desk rang hours later and Elizabeth reached out automatically, answering in what she thought of as her professional library voice as she said, “This is Elizabeth Snow. How may I help you?”

“You can die, Elizabeth.”

“Excuse me?”

“Should've happened years ago. When you were hiding in that cabin as your boyfriend bled out,” his raspy voice said. “The young lovers could've died together.”

She shot to her feet. Sullivan was about fifteen feet away, thumbing through a magazine. She waved frantically to him.

“Stop it,” that voice snapped. “I can see you.” Then laughter. “Do you really think the McGuires are going to stand in my way? I can just eliminate them, too.”

She stopped waving. She barely breathed.

“Better, but it's too late. He's already closing in, isn't he?”

Sullivan was marching toward her.

“You'll pay for that,” the voice promised her. “You're going to pay for everything.”

Click.

“Elizabeth?” Sullivan was in front of her. “What's happening?”

She glanced down at the phone in her hand. “He called me again.” Her shoulders hunched as she glanced around the library. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “He's here. He could see me and you.”

The staff at the library had already been put on alert about her previous attack, but there were only a few other employees at that location, and the last thing she wanted to do was put any of them in harm's way.

Sullivan's face tensed. “We're leaving.”

“I—I can't! My shift still has hours to go—”

“A killer just
threatened
you.”

“And you,” she told him quietly. “He threatened you, too.” She didn't even know who the guy was. A glance at the screen on the phone showed only...
Unknown caller
. Could they trace the call from the library? Surely they could—traces happened all the time on the crime shows she'd seen on TV.

“Come with me,” Sullivan ordered. “Now.” Then he was hurrying around her desk and taking her elbow. The guy seriously double-timed it as he started rushing her through that library. “Look around,” he said, voice curt. “See if you notice anyone who doesn't belong. Someone who sticks out.”

They were hunting the killer. Only, she didn't see a killer. Shouldn't he have stuck out in some way? She saw moms and their kids. She saw the seniors' group. She saw her usual Friday afternoon crowd.

But her stomach was knotted with worry. The guy on the phone
had
been there. He'd seen Sullivan.

Wait, no...he hadn't said that he saw Sullivan.

I can see you.

She stopped walking. “He saw me.” There was something about that, something that was bugging her. “He saw me,” she said again, and then she was pulling away from Sullivan and hurrying back to her desk. She'd assumed the killer was in the library, but her desk was right next to a big picture window.

A window that looked out to the very busy street.

Her car was parked nearby, just under a sprawling tree. Going on instinct now, she hurried toward the library's exit.

“Elizabeth!” Sullivan called her name and nearly everyone in the library turned to stare. Jeez, didn't the guy know you were supposed to be
quiet
in there?

“He's outside!” She shoved open the door.

He grabbed her and pulled her close. It...it wasn't like when Mac touched her. She didn't get that hot thrill of electricity coursing through her veins. Her breath didn't heave. She didn't—

“What in the hell are you doing, Sully?” Mac demanded, his voice low and lethal.

Her head whipped to the right, and she found Mac standing on the top step leading toward the library. His eyes were narrowed, his face tense, and he sure was giving his brother a furious glare.

“I'm stopping your
librarian
from running into trouble.”

Why did he keep saying it like that? Librarians were awesome. Time for the guy to seriously recognize that fact and stop putting a weird emphasis on the word.

“The killer just called her, and now she's running out to face him.
I
was going to run a trace on the call, but she's dead set to head right into danger.”

She jerked away from Sullivan. “He was out here, I know it.” Not
in
the library because that wouldn't give him a fast exit. Not with all those people milling around.

She hurried to Mac and caught his hand in hers. “Come on. I think he was on the right side of the building.” He would have been able to see her from there.

Mac went with her, but she noticed that he seemed to be shielding her body with every step, moving so that if any threat came, it would have to go through him first. Sweet, protective and—

Her tires were flat. Completely flat. It looked as if someone had just taken a knife and stabbed them.

Sullivan swore.

She turned and looked at the library. Through that gleaming window, she could see her desk. The killer had been right out there when he called her. When he told her that he'd be coming for her and that he would eliminate the McGuires.

I can't let that happen.

“Get that damn trace going, Sullivan,” Mac ordered. “Now.”

* * *

M
AC
CROSSED
HIS
arms over his chest and studied Elizabeth. The tension pouring off her filled the room. Her bedroom. She was shoving clothes into her little black suitcase just as fast as she could.

“Running isn't the option you want to take here.” He tried to sound reasonable.

She grabbed more clothes, and he saw a sexy scrap of lace dangling from her fingertips before she pushed the lace into her bag. “You act like this is the first time I've been through a mess like this.”

He straightened. “The bozo has come after you before?”

She shook her head. “I don't want you involved anymore. Not you. Not your brother. I'll be fine.”

Fine? He stalked toward her and stepped into her path before she could make another clothing run. “Someone wants you dead.”

“And
I'll
stop him, okay? I'll deal with this. I'm not running away.” Her shoulders straightened. “I'm just going back to the beginning.
That's
the way to end this mess, not running. And not hiding behind the McGuires.”

“Protection isn't hiding.” And she needed protection. The trace on the call at the library had turned up nothing. No doubt the guy was using a burner phone for his games.

You aren't going to keep playing with her, buddy.
Mac wasn't going to let that happen.

“He threatened you. Threatened your family.” Her gaze seemed tortured. “You don't know me, Mac. You can't risk yourself—or them—for me.” Her voice roughened. “Trust me, you won't think I'm worth that risk.”

You're wrong.
“You promised me twenty-four hours.”

“Because I was exhausted! I wasn't thinking clearly. I should have never involved you.” For a moment her brow furrowed. “I still don't even know why you were in that alley.”

He stepped closer to her, and her sweet cinnamon scent slid around him. “I followed you.”

She backed up. “I—I don't get
why
—”

“I followed you from the library. I waited outside your home, and when you rushed out of that place, I knew something was wrong. I wasn't about to let you ride off alone.” Not then, and not now.

“You don't know me,” she said again. “Just—”

“I want to know you.”

Her lips parted.

“You're sexy and you're smart and every time I go into that damn library, I'm there because I'm looking for you. I'm looking to see if you'll flash that slow smile of yours when I head up to the counter. Looking to see if you'll talk to me just a little bit longer.”

“But you— Why?”

He'd just covered the why. “I want you.” There, he'd been more than blunt. “I have since the first moment I saw you. And you might think I'm too rough or dangerous for you, but it doesn't change how I feel.”
I want you naked in bed with me. I want to be the one to drive you crazy.
Because he would bet his life that she had a fierce wildness chained inside herself. He'd sensed it from the very first moment they'd met.

“You've got danger chasing you now,” he said, staying close to her, wishing that she'd open up to him. “And I'm the best man to have at your side right now. I'm not going to flinch away from anything that's coming. You said that jerk threatened my family? That's all the more reason for me to take him down. I don't want him running around loose. He's a killer, and he should be stopped.”

He could see the uncertainty in her gaze. “I don't want to drag anyone else into this mess,” Elizabeth whispered.

“I'm a PI. I live for this stuff.”

She didn't smile. He wanted her to smile. He wanted some of the worry to ease from her beautiful face.

He also didn't want her leaving without him.

“That phone call you got couldn't be traced. This guy is good, Elizabeth. He's covering his tracks and he is hunting you.” That infuriated him. “Let me help you. Let me do my job and keep you safe.”

“I know,” Elizabeth said suddenly, “about your family. I heard what happened to your parents.”

Mac didn't let his body tense. Most folks in the area knew about his family. It was hard to keep a double murder hidden. One dark night, while Mac and his brothers had been fighting battles on the other side of the world, their parents had been killed. Their murderers had never been captured. Because of that—hell,
that
was why his family had formed McGuire Securities. To help other victims. To solve crimes that the cops had already marked as “cold” because there was no new evidence in those cases.

“Your family has been through enough. Do you really want me to put them all in more danger?”

“There's one thing about us,” he murmured. “We can handle danger.”

“Maybe Steve thought he could handle danger, too.”

“Maybe,” Mac allowed. “But according to the ME, Steve didn't have the chance to put up a fight. He had no defensive wounds at all on his body.” Mac had made good use of his time away from her, and he'd been very aware of the ticking clock on that twenty-four-hour period. “The attacker was able to get up close to him, and the guy made one hit—
just one—
a stab right in Steve's heart.”