Mine to Have (Mine #5)(52)

Now Tracy was the one to laugh. “That was two years ago! Are you seriously telling me you thought a witness would remember your face from that long ago?” She shook her head. “You know most witnesses can’t ever remember shit.”

No, most couldn’t. Five minutes after they’d met someone, they forgot the person’s face. But there were certain people who were more observant, who actually did recall—

“How much were you being paid? Because I don’t buy this crap about you going after her because you thought she might remember a five minute meeting from two freaking years ago.”

Ah, Tracy. She was always rather good at cutting to the heart of the matter. “When the three Wards are dead, Bates will pay the million dollar bounty.”

Understanding lit her gaze. “It was an all or nothing deal, huh? Guess you got screwed on it.”

“If Victor and Saxon hadn’t fought to keep her alive—” He broke off. If those two jerks hadn’t been in his way, Elizabeth would be dead. And he’d be rich.

“You made a mistake,” Tracy said softly as she leaned toward him. “You thought you could take down Victor and Saxon, but you weren’t strong enough to handle them. And now that Victor talked to Bates, I’m sure he’s learned plenty about you.”

Rage and fear poured through him. Bates had sent him out on plenty of kills. But if Bates thought he was going to turn on Gary…Think again! Bates wasn’t going to betray him. I’ll betray you first! I know all your secrets, too—and, bastard, I’ve already spilled some of them! Not to the Feds, but to others who’d been willing to pay a premium price…

Like to a man out for his own revenge, a man named Titus Rowe. Both Titus and the guy’s son—Hugh—they were more than eager to collect their pound of flesh. A life for a life.

Every man had a weakness. And a price.

“I want to see Victor!” Gary demanded and his fisted hands slammed onto the table. “You bring him to me, right now!”

“Told you already,” she murmured. “He’s not here. He sent me back to keep an eye on you.” Her gaze drifted over him. Her voice was a mocking whisper as she said, “I guess a dead man isn’t really his priority.”

His control snapped as the rage took over. After all of those years and everything he’d done, things couldn’t end this way for him. “You bitch! I won’t let you do this to me!” He shot across the table, his hands going right for her throat. They tumbled back, falling together when their bodies collided.

The bullets hit him before he and Tracy hit the floor. The bullets thudded into his chest and he realized—she’d drawn her gun before he ever touched her.

His hands were still around her throat and his blood was pumping out.

The door flew open and banged against the wall. Footsteps thundered toward them.

He stared into Tracy’s eyes.

“See,” she whispered, her voice so low that only he could hear it. “I told you…you were a dead man.”

Then he realized…She talked to Bates…she—

“One down,” she whispered. “One to go.”

Hard hands grabbed him and pulled him off her. He tried to speak, but he was just coughing up blood.

“I-I didn’t have a choice,” Tracy said, her voice tumbling out with a high, desperate edge as the other officers went to work on him. “He came at me. I-I didn’t have a choice!”

Pain pulsed through his chest. That lying, traitorous bitch.

He’d trained her too well.





Chapter Thirteen


“I’m a really horrible cook,” Elizabeth said.

His eyes slowly opened.

She smiled, feeling her stomach twist in nervousness.

Then he smiled back at her. “Morning, baby.”

His voice was deep and rough and sexy enough to make her panties wet. The tray in her hands trembled a bit and that made the silverware clatter.

He sat up, frowning, as his gaze immediately drifted to the tray she clutched so desperately. “What’s that?”

Okay, so she’d already admitted her cooking wasn’t top notch, but the food wasn’t completely unrecognizable. It should be pretty obvious that she was carrying—“Breakfast,” Elizabeth blurted. “We need it before we, you know, head off to work.”

Like normal people. Because we’re normal now.

His gaze was still on the tray. On the slightly soggy eggs and the pancakes that weren’t circular but were rather some unusual, not quite discernible shape.

“You cooked for me,” he said, still staring at the tray.

He should have actually taken the tray by that point. Since he hadn’t, she thrust it at him. “You’re welcome.” Now she was starting to just feel foolish. She’d never before made breakfast for anyone. But, jeez, when a guy nearly died for you, a girl had to express her appreciation some way.

He took the tray. Put it on his lap. And kept staring up at her like she was insane.

Right then, she had another memory. One that made her lips twitch a bit. “And to think,” she murmured. “When we first met, you said I was the one who didn’t know how to say thank you.”

She started to turn away, but his hand flew out in a lightning-fast move and caught her wrist. Elizabeth looked back at him.