Deceptions. Cynthia Eden

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.”

      * * *

      “IS 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.

      * * *

      HE 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