Mine to Keep

  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?”

  “Because I’m Noah York!”

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  His jaw dropped. That bottom lip of his—a sexy lip, despite the blood dripping from it—caught her attention.

  Her gaze swept slowly over his face. The guy was handsome, and that put her on edge. She’d learned how dangerous handsome, lying men could be. His cheek bones were high, his nose a sharp blade, and his jaw was perfectly square and hard.

  Too perfect.

  Not for me.

  He stared at her a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes, then he smiled. A dimple flashed in his cheek.

  Not. For. Me.

  “No,” he said softly, “I don’t think the name should mean a thing to you.” He rolled his shoulders. “Tell you what, I saw Reese parked in front of the building. I’m guessing you met him already right? Trace’s driver-slash-guard?”

  Yes, she remembered Reese.

  “He can tell you that I’m safe. Then maybe you’ll stop trying to attack me.”

  She glanced down the length of the building. They were in the narrow back alley. It would only take a few moments to race to the front of the building and check out the guy’s story.

  Claire didn’t move. “Why would Trace tell you both to guard me?” Suspicion had her eyes returning to Noah.

  “I know, sounds like overkill, right? That’s Trace.” His smile invited her to smile back with him.

  She didn’t.

  His smile slowly faded. “I see it,” he said and his voice was grim now.

  “What do you see?” Claire instantly demanded.

  “Your pain, sweetheart. I see it in your eyes.” He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “I don’t need your pity.” She’d seen pity more than enough times in the eyes of people she met. Pity. Anger. Hate.

  Been there, done all of that.

  She usually got those stares from most people, sooner or later. Except Skye hadn’t looked at her that way. Skye hadn’t judged her.

  “Too bad,” he snapped right back at her. “Because you’re getting it. I didn’t know Sara, not personally, but I’ve heard she was one hell of a woman. I’m sorry the world lost someone like her.”

  Her eyes stung. “R-Reese is around front?” She needed to verify who this guy was and get away from him, no matter what. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart twisted, and each time she looked into those golden eyes, Claire just felt…off.

  “I’ll go first,” he said, his voice soft but deep. A rumble that got beneath her skin. “You’ll feel better that way, won’t you?”

  She nodded. “I’m not about to turn my back on you.”

  “Then I guess I’m the one who has to show trust.”

  He marched ahead, moving easily through the narrow space.

  She didn’t follow, not at first. She let him get a few feet in front of her, then Claire scooped up her bag.

  He rounded the corner and Claire quickly darted after him. Her gaze scanned the area. Sure enough, Reese was waiting by the studio’s front door. He was leaning against his parked car.

  When Reese saw them, he quickly straightened. “What are you doing here?” Reese demanded as he hurried toward Noah.

  “Guard duty,” was the instant reply, “same as you.”

  Reese’s eyes widened. “Are you bleeding, man?” He advanced on Claire. “Are you okay, Ms. Kramer? Were you attacked?”

  “No, she was the one doing the attacking,” Noah said.

  Reese’s eyes widened, but he seemed to recover from his surprise quickly. “Good, that’s—”

  “I’m looking for Skye Sullivan.” The voice—a woman’s smooth, cultured voice—cut through Reese’s words.

  They glanced to the right and saw a redhead standing there. Her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses, but her head was tilted toward them, and Claire could feel the weight of the woman’s stare.

  “You’re not Skye,” the woman said, as if dismissing Claire instantly. “I was told this was her studio.”

  “Skye Sullivan’s not here now,” Reese said. “Something I can help you with?”

  The redhead laughed. “No, you can’t help me at all. I’ll come back for Skye.” Then she turned. She had on shoes with three-inch heels. Claire wasn’t even sure how the woman managed to walk in them.

  Frowning, Claire looked away from the redhead. Her gaze focused on her real problem—Noah.

  Noah’s gaze was still on the other woman. His eyes were narrowed.

  Right. Cue the lady in the tight skirt and low-cut shirt, and, of course, that guy would be all over her.

  “She’s familiar,” he whispered.

  The woman lifted her hand. A taxi jerked to a stop just two feet away from her.

  “The nose is different…the lips are fuller. Hair’s red, not blonde…” It sounded like Noah was just muttering to himself.

  Claire rubbed her temples. They were throbbing again.

  “Ms. Kramer?” Reese asked. “Were you going somewhere?” His eyes were on the bag that she still held.

  “A hotel,” she heard herself say. “I just can’t impose on Skye. I need to—”

  “It’s all different,” Noah snapped. Still talking to himself? “But the walk is the fucking same.”

  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.

  “Then Tucker’s here, too,” Drake said. He looked and sounded hollowed out. “We thought that we left them to die, but they’ve come back to kill us.”

  “Revenge?” Skye asked. “If that’s what this is about, then why attack all the others? Why go after Sara?”

  Trace told her the dark truth. He said, “Because lives don’t matter to Anna Jean. They never did.” She’d been willing to use anyone or anything in order to get what she wanted.

  “They’re pawns in a chess game,” Drake explained. “She’s the queen on the board.”

  Trace’s hands slapped down on the surface of his desk. He fucking knew how to play chess. “We need to find her damn king.”

  And destroy him.

  ***

  It was storming outside. Skye stared out at the pounding rain. Lightning lit up the sky.

  Thunder roared.

  “She wasn’t at the Pier,” Trace said as he came up behind her. The others had left. Noah had stormed away, no doubt headed out to search on his own. Drake had followed Noah out, but his steps had been much slower.

  Was he in love with Anna Jean? There was just something about the way Drake looked each time her name was mentioned. Pain filled his eyes. Skye suspected that there was a whole lot more to Drake’s connection to Anna Jean had he wanted to confess.

  Trace’s hands closed over her shoulders. “My men are talking with the vendors there. Someone had to see her. They’ll find her.”

  Skye saw another flash of lightning. She waited for the thunder to rumble. “Have you told me everything?”

  His fingers began to rub her shoulders. “Everything that you need to know.”

  That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

  “Don’t tense up on me like that,” Trace said. “Baby, you don’t want to know about every battle. About every life that was lost or about how I felt when I had to pull the trigger each time.”

  “I do,” Skye told him. Didn’t he understand yet? “Good and bad. Everything in between.”

  He bent his head. Because the office was lit and it was so dark outside, she could easily see their reflections in the glass. He surrounded her, so big and strong.

  His lips brushed over her nape. “I don’t like for that world to touch you. The more you learn about me, the more you realize you’re too good for me. That I shouldn’t even be touching you.”

  He was wrong. “I like it when you touch me.”

  His right hand slid down and curled around her stomach, pulling her back against him. She could feel his aroused length pressing against her.

  “This nightmare is going to be over soon,” he promised her as he pressed another kiss to her throat. “Now we know we’re looking for Anna Jean. She’s not getting away. And we’ll find her partner.”

  “Tucker?”

  He seemed to hesitate.

  And she caught that telling sign. “You don’t think Tucker is alive, do you?”

  His head lifted, but his arm tightened around her. “I’m not like Drake.”

  Skye waited, her heart racing.

  “I didn’t hesitate at the last instant. I know my shot hit his heart.” Trace shook his head. “He didn’t get out of that frozen hell, but she did. She took the dog tags, and now she’s got some other dumb SOB doing her dirty work.”

  She gazed down into the darkness of the city. “So her partner could be anyone.” Any man that Skye passed on the street. Anyone she saw. Anywhere. Any time.

  “I’m running down leads right now. The guy made a mistake when he hacked into my phone system. I’ve got my techs on it, retracing his steps.”

  “You said that it’s been years since that attack in Siberia. Why are they after you now? Why wait so long?”

  “Some people can wait forever for the right vengeance.”

  “And this Anna Jean…she and her partner want to hurt you.”

  By hurting me.

  He pressed another kiss to her nape.

  A shiver slid over her. “I would do anything to keep you safe. You know that, don’t you?”

  His muscles locked. She felt the tenseness in his hold. “I don’t want you at risk, Skye.”

  “But she came looking for me. In broad daylight.” That just didn’t sound like a woman who was trying to come in for a slow, snea
ky kill.

  “Anna Jean is insane. You don’t want to ever get close to her.”

  “I’ve been close to other insane folks.” Like my mother. “I managed okay.”

  He turned her in his arms. His gaze searched hers. “I don’t like to think of you in danger. I can’t.”

  His lips took hers.

  She kissed him back eagerly, her lips opening beneath his. Trace lifted her up, carried her a few feet across the room. She felt the hard edge of the desk against her thighs. He sat her down there, right on top of his gleaming desk, and he slipped between her splayed legs.

  “I have you, and I won’t let you go.” One of his hands rested lightly against the column of her throat, right over her frantically racing pulse. “I don’t care which asshole from my past comes calling, no one will take you from me.”

  Just as she wasn’t going to let anyone take Trace from her. Not when they finally had a chance together.

  He lifted up her shirt. Tossed it across the room. His eyes were lit with a bright, burning fire. Lust. Need. The same need that pulsed through her veins.

  His fingers brushed aside her bra. Her nipples were tight, aching, and when he bent his head and took one sensitive peak into his mouth, she arched against him.

  Yes.

  But he had on too many clothes. Way, way too many. Her fingers pushed between their bodies. She caught his belt. Yanked it aside. Jerked open his fly.

  So her moves weren’t as easy or seductive as his had been. Skye wasn’t in the mood for easy.

  “Trace.” His name came from her as a sensual demand. “I want you. Now.”

  His head lifted. His gaze met hers.

  “Now,” Skye said again. And, seeing that hot lust in his gaze, she told him, “I want you to fuck me hard, Trace. No control. No limits.”

  His hands gripped the edge of the desk. “Skye, baby—”

  “Everything, Trace. That’s what I want.”

  What she’d have.

  Lightning flashed beyond the windows.

  Skye kicked off her shoes. She slid off the desk, her body brushing against Trace’s. Staring into his eyes, she stripped off the rest of her clothes. Her