Deceptions. Cynthia Eden

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.”

      * * *

      MAC 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