Noah swiped a hand over his face. “And you think he might be using people at my organization, too? Doing the same damn thing to me?”
It was a definite possibility. “The guy sure as hell seems focused on me right now, but the two of you needed to be warned. If he hasn’t already gone after you, he will.”
Drake gave a grim nod.
“I think he stole my shirt right out of the office.” The back-up clothing that he normally kept at the office was gone, so there really wasn’t any thinking about it. Now he knew how his shirt had wound up at Parker’s crime scene. You wore it while you killed him, didn’t you, bastard? “I’m sure he used Sara to get access to the clothing.”
Poor Sara. She’d been caught in a battle for nothing. Used. Thrown away.
“Your security footage got his face, right?” Noah said as he leaned forward. “I mean, this is Weston Freaking Securities that we’re talking about. This place is wired from the floor to the ceiling.”
It was, but… “Sara Kramer had access to all the security information here. She was my right hand.” Grief was there, painful, twisting grief that clawed inside of him. Sara had been a friend. “I trusted her, and it looks like, a few days ago, she took the security offline for fifteen minutes. The whole building went dark.”
Drake swore.
Yes, that was just how Trace felt. He’d been distracted—the security breach had happened right after the car crash. He’d learned that his team had reported the problem right away, only they’d reported to Sara, not him because he’d been getting stitched up at the hospital.
“So we’re saying a dead man is doing this?” Noah surged up from his chair. “Because I don’t believe that crap. No way. I don’t—”
“You were flying the chopper that got us out of there,” Trace told him. Because that had been Noah’s job that day. Trace had barely made it to the rendezvous point. “The snow was coming down hard, and you could barely get the bird back in the sky.”
Noah glanced over at Drake. “I was convinced he’d die before we got him to a doctor.”
Drake’s gaze strayed to the window. “Do you two ever think…maybe I should’ve been the one to die? Maybe Trace made the wrong choice out there. He grabbed the wrong friend.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed to chips of golden fire. “Stop being a dick, Drake. You both told me what went down out there. Tucker turned on you. He would’ve killed you both in an instant.”
“Instead, I thought that I killed him.” Trace flattened his hands on the desk. “But if he’s dead, then how’d my dog tags wind up in Chicago? How’d Parker get them? They should’ve been frozen in Siberia, with Tucker.”
“And with Anna Jean,” Drake said, his voice tight.
Trace frowned at him. There had been a different note in Drake’s voice then. Pain.
Anger?
Well, the guy was entitled to his anger at Anna Jean. She’d tried to kill him. She’d screwed them all.
“You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen,” Noah said, as he braced his legs apart and studied Trace. “From what you told me all these years, it was a point blank shot.”
Trace inclined his head.
“So how would you miss?” Noah demanded. “You hit his heart. You know he was dead.”
“Someone found the body,” Drake said as he straightened. “The snow melted. Someone was digging—the damn bodies were found, and with them, the dog tags.”
Trace’s lips curved in a mirthless smile. “You think I didn’t consider that? If that were the case, I figure that I would’ve gotten a blackmail threat. Not this…the kills are personal.” They all had to see that.
“Personal,” Noah agreed. “For you. Sharpe came to you, tried to warn you, and he died.”
“Parker Jacobs wasn’t interested in warning me about anything. He was more interested in destroying me,” Trace said.
“So that’s why he was used.” Noah was speaking faster now. “Sara was used, too. Both of them were pawns in the game.”
Drake’s hands clenched on the leather arm-rests of his chair. “So this is all just a game?”
“To someone, yeah, it is,” Noah agreed. “We just have to figure out who that someone is, because I’d bet my life that it isn’t Tucker. He’s dead and gone.”
“What do we know about Tucker’s family?” Drake asked as a furrow appeared between his brows. “Maybe one of them found out what happened. Maybe one of them—”
“Tucker was an only child. His mother died before he enlisted, and his father is still living down in Texas.”
“Then he could—”
“Quint Hawk is disabled, living on a fixed income, and the man sure doesn’t have the physical strength needed to commit these crimes.” Trace’s breath whispered out. “And as soon as this mess started, I had an agent head down there and verify that Quint was still at his old ranch.”
Trace hadn’t seen Quint in person, not since the day of Tucker’s funeral service. He and Quint had been the only two there that day, standing in the rain, mourning the life that was gone.
A life I took.
“Then what about Anna Jean?” Noah said, giving a quick jerk of his head.
Because Trace was watching Drake so closely, he saw the other man flinch at Noah’s question. Taking his time, Trace slid around the edge of his desk and closed in on Drake. Considering now, Trace said, “When we came back, we all dealt with the past differently. Noah there…he slept with every woman he could find, and he made sure that he never saw the same woman twice. I figured he was trying to make sure he never fell into the same trap that Tucker did. He didn’t want to latch on to one woman and become—”
“Weak,” Noah said. But his voice was hesitant.
“You…you Drake, at first, you seemed solid. You were the one who nearly died. You and Ben. Ben wasn’t the same, though, we all could see that. The demons chased and chased him, but you…” Trace exhaled. “You seemed stronger.”
“Strong enough that you sent me to New York to keep an eye on the woman you loved.” Drake pushed from his chair. “And then I walked away.”
“Why?” Drake was holding back on him. He knew it.
Trace had kept tabs on the man over the years. Drake had returned to his home in the south, right along a strip of Mississippi Beach. He’d opened three casinos down there. He’d started two more in Vegas. Drake seemed to spend his days and nights surrounded by power players.
But Trace knew just how deceptive appearances could be.
“You shouldn’t have trusted me,” Drake said. “If you knew…you’d never have sent me after her.” Drake spun and marched toward the door. “If Tucker really is back from the dead, he’ll kill me long before he takes his knife to you.”
“Uh, what the hell are you talking about?” Noah snapped.
Drake paused at the door. He glanced back with a sardonic smile on his lips. “After all, I’m the one who fucked Tucker’s girl. I screwed Anna Jean, and the blind fool never even realized it. None of you did.” He yanked open the door and stormed out.
Well, well…
“Huh.” Now Noah sounded musing. Trace glanced at him. Noah shrugged. “I guess that explains why Anna Jean tried so hard to kill him. She didn’t want to take any chances on Tucker finding out that she’d been screwing around with his friend.” Noah exhaled heavily. “Talk about twisted shit.”
Yes, it was.
Noah crossed to Trace and slapped him on the shoulder. “But, look at it this way, if the guy wasn’t just BS’ing right then, you have some extra time. Because, hell, yeah, Tucker would go after the man who screwed Anna Jean. He’d destroy the guy.”
“Drake didn’t exactly look scared to me.”
“Well, that’s because I’m pretty sure the guy is insane. He doesn’t have the sense to be scared.”
No, Trace didn’t think that was the case at all. “He’s got a death wish.”
Surprise flashed on Noah’s face.
“He wants to be punished. He’s wanted that for years.” But the problem was that if you wished for death too long…
Death would come for you.
Noah’s lips thinned. “You know, you never did answer my question about Anna Jean’s family. They could be looking for some payback, too, you know.”
“Anna Jean’s parents are dead. She had one half-sister, Piper. A school teacher in Atlanta.” He’d checked on her after he’d come back from Russia. Made sure that Piper’s college was covered. Then he’d stayed the hell out of her life. “She doesn’t seem to have her sister’s killer instinct.”
“Yeah, well, if you ask me, that’s a good thing.” Noah shoved his hands into his pockets. “But it sure seems to me that someone out there has got that instinct, and that person is closing in.”
“I don’t have any place to stay.” Claire sat on the couch in the penthouse, her fingers twisted in front of her. Discarded tissues formed a pile around her. “I was supposed to be moving in with Sara. I-I just got into town a few hours early. She was going to help me find a job here.” A silent tear tracked down her cheek. “She can’t do that anymore.” Her voice was hoarse. “Sara can’t do anything now.”
“You can stay here tonight,” Skye said immediately. “There is plenty of room in this place.”
But Claire glanced around the penthouse, fear flashing in her gaze. “I can’t.” Whispered. “I just…can’t.”
Skye frowned at her. “We have an extra bedroom.” Four of them. “You’ll be safe here.”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t really…I’ve heard stories about Mr. Weston—”
“Trace?”
“He scares me. I used to ask Sara if he scared her.” Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “She said, ‘Every day. But that’s half the fun.’” Claire laughed then, and the sound was heavy with tears. “But Sara was lying to me, you see. I don’t think she was ever really afraid of anything. She isn’t like me.” Claire’s shoulders hunched.
Skye gazed at her, her heart aching. There was something about Claire that reminded her…
Of me.
“I’ll get a hotel. It’ll be fine.” Claire stood up. Squared her shoulders. “I don’t need—”
“There’s an apartment over my dance studio,” Skye said, rising with her. “You can stay there. No one will bother you.”
Claire’s lips trembled. “Th-thank you.” Then she paused. “I…know about what happened to you.”
At this point, Skye was sure most of the world did. She lifted her chin. “I didn’t—”
“Surviving is hard, isn’t it? But at least you know he’s not out there anymore, watching you.” Claire licked her lips. “That part is the scariest.”
Skye felt her heartbeat race. She’s speaking from experience.
“Never knowing…it’s the hardest.” Claire’s eyes squeezed shut, then she whispered, “It’s my fault that Sara is dead.”
“What?” Skye shook her head and then realized that Claire couldn’t see the move. “No, no, it isn’t.”
Claire’s body trembled. “He killed my parents, and he killed her, too.”
“Claire.” Skye snapped out her name. “What are you talking about?”
“My lover,” she said as her eyes opened. “My one and only. He said I was his forever, and he’s made sure that I am.”
Goosebumps rose on Skye’s arms.
I see me in her. The same fear. The terror that lurked in Claire’s eyes.
“I thought I’d escaped, just like you had. But I didn’t.” More tears slid down Claire’s cheeks. “And Sara is dead.”
“It wasn’t because of you.” Skye wanted to shake the other woman. So she did. Hard.
Claire blinked at her.
“I don’t know what happened to your parents or what happened to you, but Sara’s death isn’t on you.” Skye sucked in a sharp breath. “Someone is killing in this city. This is his third attack. The crimes are all the same. The victims are all—” Skye broke off, not wanting to reveal the gory details to Claire.
“Th-third attack?”
“Two men were killed before Sara.”
“You’re sure it’s the same killer?”
“Yes.” Because the killer was from Trace’s past.
“Why? Why would he go after my sister?”
“We think…” It was so hard to say this as she stared into those tear-filled eyes. “We think the killer was using her in order to get at Trace. And after he’d gotten what he needed from Sara…”
“He killed my sister.” Hollow words. Words that matched the look in Claire’s eyes.
Skye nodded. Claire deserved the truth, and she was determined to give it to her.
One survivor to another.
“I need to see her,” Claire said. “Please…”
The body had been transferred down to the coroner’s office hours before. Skye knew the ME wouldn’t be finished with the exam, not yet.
“I need to do it. I’m all that Sara has.”
