Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(67)

He pushed past them, his arm hitting Claire’s as he raced toward the taxi. He reached the curb just as the taxi sped away. His fists flew into the air in impotent rage. “Fucking hell!” Noah yelled. “It’s not him. It’s her.”





Chapter Thirteen


“I know what I saw.” Noah’s voice was grim as he paced in front of Trace’s desk. “The woman always had a walk of pure sin. That was how she first caught Tucker’s eye. She changed her hair, got a nose job, injected her lower lip with collagen, but she didn’t change her walk.”

Trace stared at him. He’d only been in town an hour when Noah had called and demanded this meeting. Noah had insisted they meet at Weston Securities, a private meeting—just Noah, Trace, and Drake.

Trace had told him to screw that “private” plan. Skye was with him. She stood at his side as he faced the two men who’d gone to hell with him.

I can’t keep any more secrets from her. Because he knew that the secrets were the things that would drive her away from him.

With Skye, it was all or nothing. He was trying so hard to give her all he had.

“You’re actually telling us,” Drake said, voice grating, “that Anna Jean isn’t dead? You saw her today?”

Noah rounded on him. “You tell me. I mean, you’re the one who supposedly to kill her, right? But I got to thinking…you were sleeping with her. You admitted that. So maybe at that kill moment, you hesitated. Did you hesitate, Drake?”

Drake glared back at him.

“I don’t hear a damn answer,” Noah snarled. “Did you kill her? Did you stab her in the heart? Or did you hesitate?”

A muscle flexed in Drake’s jaw.

“Stop, Noah,” Trace said wearily. “I found out more about Tucker. You both need to know that—”

“Yes,” Drake hissed.

The tension in the room kicked up about one hundred percent. Trace’s hand dropped to his side. He focused totally on Drake. “What did you just say?”

“I missed her heart.” All of the color had bled from Drake’s face. “I couldn’t do it. I know she was trying to kill me, but I hesitated, okay? I wounded her, but she wasn’t dead.”

“She died in Tucker’s arm,” Trace said. He’d been sure…the way Tucker had reacted…

Drake closed his eyes. “I’ve replayed those moments in my head a thousand times. I didn’t remember hitting her heart with the blade. I didn’t, but she still died, so I thought I was wrong. I thought I’d imagined—”

“She’s not dead.” Noah’s voice vibrated with fury. “The bitch is strolling around Chicago, looking for Skye.”

Skye jerked beside Trace. “Why would she be looking for me?”

“Probably because she wants to screw with your head,” Noah fired out. “She likes playing mind games.”

“Or because she wants to kill you,” Drake said.

Neither would happen on Trace’s watch. “You got the name of the cab company?” Noah had told him that he’d missed the cab by seconds.

“Yes,” Noah replied instantly.

That was something. “Now tell me that you got the cab number.”

Noah rattled it off.

Trace picked up his phone. In two minutes, he had the manager of that cab company on the line. Thirty seconds later, Trace said, “He dropped her at the Navy Pier.”

Noah headed for the door. “Let’s get her, let’s—”

“I’ll send a team,” Trace said, working to keep his voice free of emotion. “They’ll get her.”

Noah stiffened. He swung back around to stare incredulously at Trace. “Are you kidding me? It’s her. After all that’s happened, you’re just sending a team?”

“Yes.” Flat. “That’s exactly what I’m doing because I’ll be damned if I walk into some trap that she’s setting.” He pulled Tucker’s letter from his pocket. “Tucker knew, okay? He knew what she was doing. He knew that she was setting us all up, and I’m pretty sure he planned for the three of us—” His gaze hit on each man there. “To die during that last mission. Only we got lucky. We lived.”

Drake’s eyelids flickered. “He…knew?”

“That’s what the letter says. He was finishing his job with Anna Jean, and they weren’t coming back. They had a future all mapped out. They just didn’t count on us fighting back so hard.”

Noah looked shell-shocked. “Tucker? He was setting us up, too?”

Trace nodded. Rage had twisted inside of Trace. He knew just how Noah felt.

Skye’s fingers curled around his shoulder. Some of the fury eased.

“Anna Jean wasn’t working alone then. I don’t buy for an instant that she’s working alone now.” This was the part that sealed the deal for Trace. “I saw the bodies at the morgue. Sharpe, Parker, and Sara. There were no hesitation wounds on Parker, but the killer paused when he was carving up Sharpe’s throat and when he was slicing open Sara.”

Noah cocked is head. “He paused?”

“The wounds were deep. Hard. Strong. Anna Jean is many things, but I don’t think she could’ve inflicted those wounds. The angles would’ve been wrong. The depth of entry—none of it matches up to her.” Anna Jean had been all of five foot three and one hundred and twenty pounds.