Mine to Keep (28 page)

***

“Are we really sure a cop is the one we’re after?” Noah asked.

Trace had the Jag’s gas pedal shoved to the ground. “No, we won’t be sure until we see him with our own eyes.”  Because all of the puzzle pieces weren’t fitting for Trace. 

The way the evidence had been planted at Parker’s murder scene. Trace’s shirt…the dog tag. All of that indicated that the killer had been trying to frame him, and a cop would know just how to set up a frame job.

But then something had happened. The killer had struck again.
Too quickly?
He’d gone right after Sara.

Why?

His hold on the steering wheel tightened. Maybe the cop had worried that Sara knew too much, that she’d turn on
him.

So did you have someone else kill her?  Someone who hesitated?

Trace raced through a yellow light.  He needed to go
faster.

***

“I should be in jail,” Drake said. “That’s where I belong. I fucking killed her.” His breath rasped out. “That’s what she tells me, every single night.”

Did Trace have those same nightmares?  Only, for him, was it the ghost of Tucker who came back and haunted him?

Another creak came from upstairs.  Skye’s gaze rose.
Is Piper listening? 
Skye didn’t want the other woman to hear anymore.

Her fingers slid down Drake’s arm, and she headed for the stairs.  

Sure enough, Piper stood at the top of those stairs. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her stomach. 

Skye slowly climbed the stairs. Piper backed up, sliding into the apartment. She held the door open for Skye.

“All this time,” Piper whispered, “and I blamed the wrong man.”

“You didn’t know,” Skye told her as she closed the door behind her. She glanced quickly around the apartment, but she didn’t see Claire.  The bathroom door was closed. Maybe Claire was in there.

“You think you know everything,” Piper continued, her stare glassy. “Then the truth comes along, and it rips your world right apart.”

A muffled cry reached Skye’s ears.  She frowned. That cry had come from the bathroom. “Claire?” Skye called.

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Piper told her, blinking, and glancing toward the bathroom door. “She said she kept seeing
her
sister.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “I guess they took both our sisters away, didn’t they?”

Skye hurried toward the bathroom. She knocked lightly on the wooden door. “Claire?”

The floor squeaked behind Skye.

She lifted her hand and knocked on the door. “Claire, are you okay?”

Something sharp and hard—a knife?—pressed into Skye’s back, freezing her. Terrifying her.

“I wouldn’t worry so much about Claire. She’s already dead but you…you still have plenty of time to suffer.” Piper’s breath blew against Skye’s ear. “And don’t even think about screaming, bitch. You raise your voice above a whisper, and I will slit your throat in an instant.” 

***

Trace slammed on the brakes.  The Jag stopped with a squeal of its tires. “You take the back,” Trace ordered Noah as they jumped from the car.

“And you storm the front.” Noah inclined his head. “Just like old times.”

Screw old times. Trace had taken his weapon from the car. After Sharpe’s death, he’d made sure to keep the gun close. He checked the weapon. Loaded. Ready.  Then he ran toward the apartment. Reese should be upstairs, waiting and—

Noah cried out, the sound sharp and full of pain.

Trace whirled around.

Noah was on the cement, sprawled beneath a street lamp. Blood poured from beneath his body.

“Noah!” Trace yelled. Then he realized what was happening.

Shooter.

Trace dove for cover, but he moved a second too late, and he felt the burn of the bullet slice across the side of his face.

A silencer.
The SOB was up there, trying to kill them both without making a sound. 

Trace ducked behind the Jag. This wasn’t his first shoot-out. He might be rusty, but he knew this game, and he knew how to find the shooter.  Based on the angle of those shots…his gaze swept up and to the left. Those bullets had come from the second story. Corner apartment.

Reese’s apartment? 

“
H-help…”
Noah gasped out the plea.

Trace jerked his gaze back to his friend.

Had the shooter heard that cry? If so, he’d know Noah was still alive. Alive and a sitting duck.

Another shot would end Noah.  

Trace knew he couldn’t just sit there and watch his friend die.  Even if that
was
the killer’s plan.    

Trace glanced up at the apartment.
You want me? Then take your best shot.
He sucked in a deep breath. An image of Skye flashed before him.

Come back to me.

He would.  He
would.

***

“People have no defense against an innocent face,” Piper said, sounding not the least bit shattered or scared any longer. Now, she sounded satisfied. Smug. “Men think you’re weak, and they want to protect you, and women, well, they think you’re a friend, so they let their guard down when you’re close.”

Skye was still facing the bathroom door. She’d heard no other sound from inside, but when she glanced down, she saw blood slipping from under the bathroom door.

Claire!

“Did you see her wrist?” Piper asked. “It looks like Claire tried to kill herself once. I noticed that right away. Weak bitch. I guess I helped her out this time.”

Skye tried to keep her muscles loose. “You’re not Piper, are you?”

Laughter. 

And she had her answer. “You’re Anna Jean.”

The blade sliced across Skye’s back. She cried out.

“Give the bitch a cookie!”  Anna Jean jerked Skye around to face her. Skye’s shoulders hit the bathroom door. “All I had to do was make myself look a little bit more like my goody two-shoes sister. Then they all stared right at me, and they believed every lie I told them.”

Skye glanced over Anna Jean’s shoulders.  “Not everyone believed them.” And that was why Trace had left a guard behind. Skye tried to act like she was looking at that guard right then.

Anna Jean’s jaw dropped open. “Drake?” Then she was whirling around to face what she obviously thought was a new threat, her body vibrating with tension as she tried to follow Skye’s stare.

Only Drake wasn’t standing there.

Skye slammed her body into Anna Jean’s and she screamed as loud as she possibly could. They hit the floor. Skye grabbed two handfuls of Anna Jean’s still wet hair, and she slammed the woman’s face into the floor. Once, twice.

But Anna Jean broke free. She slashed out with the knife, and it sliced over Skye’s forearm. Skye jerked back, hissing out at the pain.   

“That’s just the start,” Anna Jean promised. 

Drake threw open the door.  “
Skye!”

Anna Jean grabbed Skye and put the knife to her throat. “Now the hero’s here,” she snarled.

The blade nicked Skye’s throat.

“Anna Jean,” Drake whispered.  One of his hands held the gun—a weapon that was pointed at Skye and Anna Jean. “I see you now.”

“And I see
you!
” Her words were a scream. “All this time, I thought it was Trace! I couldn’t remember what happened to me—every time I closed my eyes, I saw the snow and the blood and I heard screams.”

Drake took a step forward.

“I lost four toes, Drake! It was so cold out there.  You left me in the cold.”

Drake’s face hardened. Emotion—emotion that Skye couldn’t name—burned in his eyes.

“I was in that shit-hole of a hospital for months! Barely living, in pain every single day. And it was because of
you
!”

“Anna Jean—”

“Don’t!” Anna Jean cried out. The knife sliced across Skye’s throat. Skye felt the wet warmth of her blood sliding down her neck. “Take another step, and you know I’ll cut her throat open. I’ll enjoy doing it.” 

Drake didn’t move.

“Trace’s dog tags were left.” Now Anna Jean’s voice was hoarse. “The men who found me, they said he’d been the one.”

“The men who found you,” Drake repeated. In contrast to Anna Jean, his voice was thick with tension. Anger. No, rage. “They were your partners, Anna Jean. They were the men you sent to kill
us.
”

Anna Jean laughed then.  “But here you are, still breathing.” 

“So are you,” he pointed out. He still had his gun up, but Skye knew he wouldn’t take the shot, not while Anna Jean was using her as a shield.

This was insane.

“No thanks to you,” Anna Jean said. For an instant, she sounded…lost. “I was going to let you live, Drake. Because I thought you were the one who loved me.  But you—you’re the one who left me to die?”

Red stained his cheeks. “You gave me no choice! You tried to kill me!” He sprang forward.

“And you just killed her,” Anna Jean spat back.  Her hold on Skye tightened as the blade dug into Skye’s throat. 

Trace grabbed for Noah.  He expected to feel a bullet sink into him at any moment.

But it didn’t.

He pulled Noah behind the Jag. His fingers ripped open Noah’s shirt so he could see the damage. The bullet had gone straight through Noah’s chest and out his back.

“Missed…my heart,” Noah muttered. “Saw the glint of the weapon. Dodged just in time.”

The street was still dead silent. Since the shooter had used a silencer, no one else had even been aware of the shots. Trace pulled out his phone and dialed nine-one-one. “You’re going to be all right,” Trace promised him.  The guy was bleeding like a stuck pig, and he was as pale as death.  Trace was afraid for him. Damn scared, despite his words.

“
Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?”

“My friend’s been shot,” Trace told the dispatcher. “I need an ambulance,
now.
” He snapped out the address.

“
Have you seen the shooter, sir?”

Trace glanced up at the apartment. “He fired from one of the apartments. You need to get the cops en route
now
.”

And if a cop already was on the scene?

“Get…him,” Noah rasped. 

Trace hesitated. “I’m not leaving you to bleed out on the street.”

“What if…” Noah’s breath heaved out. “Reese is dying, too?” Another breath shuddered from him. “I’m not…going yet,” Noah promised and gave him a weak smile. “I…envied you too long. I’ll get…what you have.”

“Man, I think you’re delirious.”  Trace pulled Noah’s back-up gun from his ankle holster.  He wasn’t sure where Noah’s other weapon was. “Can you hold this?”  Because if he went up to find the shooter, then he had to know Noah was safe.

“Always.”  Noah’s bloody fingers curled around the weapon. 

Trace met his stare. “Don’t even think of dying before I get back.”

“It’s not…that bad.”

“No,” Trace lied. “It’s not.”

Noah’s lips curved.  “Do me a…favor? No, two?”

Trace nodded.

“Kill the b-bastard.”

“He’s already dead.” The guy just didn’t know it.

“And then…tell Claire I was a fucking rock star…when I got sh-shot.”

“Tell her yourself.”  Trace tightened his hold on his weapon.  He’d keep covered as much as possible as he ran for the apartment building. But he had to hurry.

If the killer got away, there’d just be another attack. And another. It wouldn’t ever stop.  Not until
he
stopped it.

Trace kept his head low as he ran toward the building. 

***

Skye didn’t care about the pain. When the knife dug into her, she didn’t scream or try to jerk away from the blade.

Instead, she lifted up her hands and she clawed at Anna Jean’s eyes.

Anna Jean was the one to scream.  The blade slipped, cutting Skye more, but she let her knees buckle and she fell right from Anna Jean’s weakened hold.

Drake grabbed Skye and tossed her across the room.  Then he lunged for Anna Jean.

But he staggered to a stop when she brought up her knife.

“Going to shoot me?” Anna Jean taunted him. “Going to leave me to die alone? Again?
You weren’t supposed to be the one!”

He circled her.

Skye put her hand to her throat. The wounds weren’t that deep, and she pushed the pain to the back of her mind. After all, the pain didn’t matter then. Stopping Anna Jean was all that mattered.

Why wasn’t Drake firing at her?

“You were different,” Anna Jean whispered. “I stopped him from killing you earlier because I always thought…
not you
, Drake. Not. You!”  The knife trembled in her grasp.

He opened his hand. Held it out to her. “Give me the knife.”

She laughed at him.

Screw this. Skye raced across the room. She yanked on the bathroom door.  It flew open, but only just a few inches, because it hit Claire’s prone body.

“Claire!” Skye sank to her knees beside the other woman. There was blood. So much. A growing pool of it.  Not from a slit throat, but from a deep wound in Claire’s gut.  Skye’s fingers covered the wound, pushing down as she tried to apply pressure.

Claire’s eyes cracked open. Her stare was glassy, nearly blind with fear. “
Again,”
she whispered.  “It’s happening a-again.”

“No.” Skye shook her head. “You’re going to be okay.  We’ll get you help.” She turned her head.  Drake and Anna Jean were still facing off.
What the hell?
“Call an ambulance,” Skye yelled at Drake. “Claire needs help, now!”

Drake’s gaze jerked to Skye. He blinked as if waking from a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

And in that one moment, Anna Jean attacked. She lunged forward and drove the knife into Drake’s stomach, and then she yanked, jerking the blade to the right.  He fell back, stunned, his eyes wide.

“This time, you get to die,” Anna Jean told him.

His knees sagged, and he hit the floor.

Anna Jean spun to face Skye. “Your turn.”

Claire whimpered.

Skye kept applying pressure. “Claire has nothing to do with this. Let her go.” Drake wasn’t making a sound.  His guilt had made him vulnerable. Guilt, love—they could wreck a person.

“I don’t give a shit about Claire,” Anna Jean yelled.  She bent over Drake’s body, and when she rose, she had his gun. “Maybe he did love me,” she said as she stared down at him. “Because if he’d been smart, he would’ve shot me when he had the chance. Instead, I had the pleasure of gutting him.” Her voice dropped. “That’s what you get for leaving me in the cold.”