Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(65)

Trace climbed back into the SUV and slammed the door behind him. He stared down at the old envelope. The handwriting had faded some but he still easily recognized it as Tucker’s writing. The stamp had torn, but he could make out the post date—a week before Tucker had died.

He opened the envelope. Pulled out the paper. He could feel Skye’s eyes on him, but she didn’t speak.

Trace unfolded the paper.

Dad,

I know I don’t write enough, and I’m sorry about that. I think about you. About mom. I still miss her so much.

I’m in love. I always wanted to find someone to love the way that you loved mom. So completely.

We’re going to get married. We have plans to start a new life, just me and my Anna Jean. But we have a job to do first. And it’s a job that I hate.

I always tried to do the right thing. But doing right doesn’t always give you the reward you need. Anna Jean has a deal set up for us. It’s a one-time shot. We do this, and there are no more battles. No more crawling on my belly through the mud or the snow or the blood.

I’ll be free.

There’s a price to pay for freedom. I’m not proud of what I’m doing, but I want to give Anna Jean the life she deserves.

I won’t be coming back. With what we’ve planned, I can’t.

You were a good father.

I wish I’d been a better son.

“Sonofabitch,” Trace whispered. His head lifted. He turned and met Skye’s worried stare. “He was in on it. Tucker was working with Anna Jean. He betrayed us all.”

***

Claire Kramer tip-toed down the stairs, her bag clutched tightly in her right hand. She didn’t head into the main studio. She already felt like more than enough of an intruder in that place.

Her fingers slid over the knob at the back door. She opened it and eased outside as the alarm gave a reassuring beep. She took two steps—

“Going somewhere, Ms. Kramer?”

Claire screamed—and then she threw her bag at the tall, dangerous looking man who had been waiting for her.

The bag bounced off his shoulder, and Claire tried to yank open the door and rush back inside. But his palm flattened against the door, and his body slid behind hers. “Easy.” He wasn’t touching her, but he surrounded her. Too big and muscled. Fear and fury battled within her.

He’d been waiting for me.

Claire sucked in a deep breath. Then she attacked. Her elbow slammed into his solar plexus even as her fist flew up in a backhanded snap move. Her knuckles should’ve collided with his nose, giving a nice, satisfying crunch as the cartilage broke on impact.

But he caught her hand.

Claire stomped down with her left foot. He grunted.

That’s right. I’m not easy prey. Not anymore. She’d spent years learning how to protect herself.

Claire spun around now, yanking her wrist free of his grip. She had keys in her left hand, and she brought them up, ready to shove those keys right into his eye—

He caught that hand, too. He didn’t hurt her. He just held her, his strength undeniable. “You’re good,” he said, flashing a golden eyed stare at her. She planned to seriously damage those golden eyes. “But I think I’m a little bit better.”

Those words infuriated her. He dared to taunt her? Hell, no.

Not again. Not again. The words rang in her head. They were Claire’s vow to herself. She’d never be a victim again. She wouldn’t be hurt.

He would.

Claire jerked up her knee, intending to hit him in the groin as hard as she could.

He pushed her back, flattening her against the door. A strong, muscular thigh pushed between her legs. “I think you need to settle down before someone gets hurt—”

She head-butted him.

“Dammit!”

His lip was bleeding.

Claire gave him a grim smile. “Looks like someone just got hurt. And guess what? More pain is coming.”

He stepped back, freeing her and swiping at his bleeding lip. “You?” He tossed that out as if he were shocked. She’d shock him again with a punch to the face if he so much as inched toward her again.

“You’re the grief-stricken sister that I’m supposed to be watching? I thought you needed a guard. No one told me you were so…” He waved his hand and drops of his blood fell on the pavement. “Violent,” he finished.

You needed a guard.

“Who are you?” Claire asked him.

“Noah. Noah York.” One dark brow rose as his eyes swept over her. His eyes unnerved her. She’d never met a man with golden eyes before.

“I’m not the enemy, sweetheart.”

Her spine snapped straight at that.

“Delicate flower, my ass,” Noah muttered. “Trace has you pegged all wrong. You’d think by now he’d be smart enough not to get fooled by a pretty face.”

She swallowed and realized that she was choking back her fear. “Trace sent you?”

“Yeah. He had to leave town. Took Skye with him. Because you know, he can’t breathe without her or some shit.” Then he muttered, “Lovesick idiot that he is.”

Her heart was starting to slow down, but she didn’t trust the stranger. Not yet. “Give me proof.”

“Proof?”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”