Chapter Four
“Here.”
Elizabeth turned at Saxon’s gruff voice and she saw him sliding back into the truck with a bag in his hands. He offered the bag to her, and, a bit nervously, she peered inside.
Shoes. Tennis shoes. For her.
“I know, they clash like hell with your skirt, but you can’t keep running around barefoot.”
They’d stopped long enough to fill up at that station/shop, and she sure hadn’t expected him to bring her back a gift. She put the shoes on quickly, and so what if they were a little big? They were heaven to her feet.
He cranked the truck and got them out of there, not going too fast this time, and she was sure glad he’d ditched his devil-may-care speed. “I also picked up a burner phone while I was inside,” he told her. “At our next stop, I’ll check in with Victor.”
Their next stop. Right. They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere. She looked to the left and only saw the Everglades. To the right—same thing. “Where are we going?”
His jaw tightened as he kept his stare on the road. “There’s a little cabin up ahead. It’s real secluded, and, in a spot like that, we’ll have plenty of warning if we get any unwanted visitors.”
Warning they hadn’t exactly gotten in the motel room.
“I keep thinking this is a bad dream.” No, she kept hoping it was. “What could I have done that made someone want to kill me?” To know that someone out there hated her so much…goosebumps rose on her arms.
“You threw over Wesley Locke. The guy doesn’t exactly take no for an answer.”
Her hands gripped the dashboard. “He’s really a…criminal?” He’d seemed so nice, so sophisticated and cultured. Every time they’d been together, he’d played the perfect gentleman.
“One the FBI has been trying to take down for years.”
She truly had the worst luck with men.
“But for him to come after you with guns blazing like this…you must have seen something you shouldn’t have, sweetheart. Something that made him put out a hit on you—”
“Stop it.”
He slanted her a fast glance. “There’s no denying the hit. What I don’t get is why he wanted you to suffer. Why not just kill you fast?”
She grabbed his arm. Felt the muscles stiffen beneath her touch. “I meant, stop calling me sweetheart.” She didn’t like it when he used that endearment. It made her stomach clench and her heart race and it was just…just ridiculous. “You don’t mean it, so don’t say it, okay? I kind of have this rule—it’s a no bullshit rule. Don’t ever tell me something you don’t mean, got it?”
“I got it.”
“And Wesley...” She exhaled on a long sigh as she released his arm. “It just didn’t work between us. There wasn’t any chemistry.”
He made an odd sound, kind of like he was choking.
She glanced out at the Everglades. “When he kissed me, I wanted fireworks. I didn’t get them.” And she’d told herself she wouldn’t settle for anything less. Why couldn’t she have wild, hot passion? Wesley had been a gentlemen, yes, one who’d seemed to have ice water in his veins.
“No…um, chemistry?” Saxon repeated. “So when you screwed him, it just left you—”
Her gaze shot right back to him. Narrowed. “I didn’t.”
“He didn’t get you off?” Now he sounded distinctly annoyed. “I would,” he promised. “I’d make sure you screamed for me.”
Her heart was galloping in her chest. “What I meant was that we-we didn’t have sex. It didn’t get that far.”
Once more, his head turned quickly and his gaze met hers. His dark stare held hers with a hard intensity that made it a little difficult for her to draw in a breath.
“We didn’t,” she said again.
His focus shifted back to the road.
She hesitated a moment and then said, “So, you see, there’s no way Wesley could want me dead. We just went out a few times. It’s not like he’s some big spurned lover.” She didn’t have any of those. Sure, she’d had lovers, but none of them had been declaring love for her, and she hadn’t been falling for them. Sometimes, Elizabeth felt as if she were always looking for the right guy, the one who would kiss her and—bam, everything would change for her. “There are no big spurned lovers. No guy who just couldn’t bear to give me up.”
“You’re not seeing the right men,” he muttered.
Had she just heard him right?
“A woman like you…giving up someone like you would never be easy.”
A strange warmth spread through her. Saxon had just given her a compliment. “I-I’m sure the ladies have a hard time letting you go.”
“They don’t know who I really am. Sometimes, I’m not even sure I know.” Then he spun them around in the middle of the road. She gave a little scream and her hands flew out to touch the dashboard.
Then the vehicle braked to a stop. Right there. In the middle of the road. “Saxon!” Now she was yelling at him, not screaming—a huge difference. “Are you insane?”
“I don’t trust many people.”
The seatbelt cut into her shoulder.
“The FBI is supposed to be clearing Wesley Locke.”
“Um, you’re FBI.”
“But the last time I waited for the FBI, we had guests at our room—guests who came with guns blazing.” He started driving again. “I’m not waiting now. If Locke put this hit on you, then that shit is getting canceled, right now.”
He was driving fast. Way too fast. “Wh-where are we going?”
“You know where Wesley Locke lives, right?”
“Yes…”
“Then it’s time to turn the tables. It’s time for him to get a little late-night visit.”
That sounded like a terrible idea to her. “Maybe you should drop me off somewhere. You know, my apartment, a police station—”
“You stay with me, and I’ll keep you alive.”
A grim vow. One that she believed.
“But you go with someone else, then you take your chances. Because right now, I’m not sure who you can really trust.”
Those words sent a chill racing down her spine.
***
Wesley Locke lived in a high-end condo at the edge of the city. Saxon parked in the building’s garage, then he took Elizabeth with him in the elevator. He kept the gun tucked under the edge of his shirt. If Locke tried to attack them, Saxon didn’t plan on being the one who went down.
As a rule, Saxon didn’t believe in hiding from his enemies. Whenever possible, he preferred to take those bastards out in a straight confrontation.
But this isn’t about me. It’s about her.
Elizabeth stood beside him, her body swaying lightly, her nervous eyes on the glowing buttons that flashed on the elevator panel.
“What time is it?” she whispered.
It was helluva-late-thirty.
“I mean, we can’t just bust down the guy’s door in the middle of the night. If he’s not the one behind this—he’ll probably have us arrested!”
Right. Because Wesley Locke was chummy with the cops. Not in this universe. “He won’t call the cops,” he said confidently. Locke lived on the top floor of that building so it was taking way too long for the elevator to rise up. And during that long, slow ride, Saxon was far too aware of Elizabeth standing next to him.
She still smelled far too good. After everything they’d been through, how did she smell that way?
“This is the most insane night of my life,” she whispered.
He was pretty sure it was about to get a whole lot crazier.
“Shouldn’t you have called for back-up? I mean, called Agent Monroe or someone—”
“As soon as we’re done here, don’t worry, then I’ll be making that phone call.” But he was getting this shit settled first. Locke looked like their prime suspect in this mess, and Saxon wasn’t just going to wait around while they got some more killers after Elizabeth.
The elevator had reached the top floor. His eyes locked on Elizabeth’s. “You stay behind me, understand? We don’t know what that guy is capable of doing.” But I have a pretty good idea…based on the reports I’ve seen about this guy.
Wesley Locke would turn on his own mother, if he thought that move would give him more power. But why the guy had decided to take a hit out on his ex…that sure as shit didn’t make sense to Saxon.
They strode down the narrow hallway. Locke’s condo was the only unit on that floor. The thick carpeting swallowed their footsteps, and soon, they were right in front of the guy’s door.
“Um, do we knock?” Elizabeth whispered. “Do we—”
The door was already ajar, open just a few inches. What the hell? So no, they didn’t need to knock. Saxon pulled out his weapon and he stepped inside. The smell hit him first. Thick, cloying. It was a scent he’d encountered too many times before.
Blood. Death.
“Help...”
Only…death hadn’t claimed his victim, not just yet.
Lights blazed in the place, so it was easy for him to find Wesley Locke. The man was sprawled on the floor, just feet from the front door. It looked as if he’d been trying to crawl out for help.
Blood was heavy in the white carpeting around him. And when Saxon drew close to him, the guy’s blood-covered fingers reached out to lock around his wrist.
“Wesley!” Elizabeth’s voice was filled with horror.
Saxon put his gun down. The guy wasn’t a threat, not right then. He helped ease Wesley Locke onto his back so he could see the guy’s wounds.
Shit. Someone had taken a knife to the man. An up-close attack. That means it was probably personal. Because Wesley Locke wasn’t the kind of guy who would let a stranger sneak in close to him.
Unless that stranger was one very, very good killer.
“I have to call an ambulance!” Elizabeth said. Her footsteps rushed away.
Calling an ambulance wasn’t going to do any good. Saxon could tell that. He was amazed the guy was still alive.
“Look at me,” Saxon barked.
But Wesley’s weak stare was on Elizabeth. She stood near a table, her hands fumbling for the phone. “S-sorry,” he mumbled. “Guess…I…killed…us both…”
The sonofabitch. “You put the hit on her.”
Wesley was still staring at Elizabeth.
Saxon grabbed the guy’s jaw and forced his head to turn. “Look at me. Not her. Me.”
Wesley’s breath sagged out.
“Why did you put the hit on her? Because she dumped your ass?”
“No…I-I knew who she…was…”
Okay, that made no sense.
He could hear Elizabeth on the phone, asking for the ambulance to hurry. Then her footsteps rushed back to them.
Wesley’s gaze went right back to her. “S-sorry…you have to die.”
“She doesn’t have to die! You can still call off the hit!” He didn’t know which one of the guy’s enemies had come for him—Wesley loved to make waves in Miami, but what Saxon did know…he knew that Elizabeth still had a chance at life.
Wesley’s breath heaved out. His eyes were shutting. “N-not…my hit…”
What?
Then Wesley’s hand twisted in Saxon’s grip and he held him—far too tightly for a man at death’s door. “Who are…you?”
“He’s an FBI agent,” Elizabeth rushed to say. “He can help you, he can—”
“Run!” Wesley gasped out the word. “Go, Beth…g-go!” And he tried to yank Saxon down on the floor with him. What the hell? Saxon shoved back at the guy but Wesley’s grip had already eased.
Because the man was dead.
“Wesley?” Elizabeth whispered. She inched forward. Her fingers touched the other man’s cheek. “Wesley?”
Saxon tried to find Wesley’s pulse. Nothing. The guy wasn’t breathing. No more heaving gasps. Only silence. Wesley wasn’t going to be telling them anything else. And right then, they had other priorities. Saxon pulled Elizabeth to her feet and tried to push her toward the door.
But she twisted in his arms, fighting to get free. “No, stop it!” she cried. “We can’t just leave him!”
“There isn’t anything we can do!” There was nothing that could be done to help him. His arms wrapped around her stomach, and he just picked her up and carried her out of there. “We have to cover our own asses!”
He took her out of that room even as she still struggled against him. Elizabeth didn’t get it. The cops would be there soon, thanks to that call she’d made. They’d bust in with a fury, and if they found Saxon there, with a loaded gun on him…a gun that he figured Tommy Haines had used probably far too many times in the past…they’d be hauled down to the station. And before Victor could appear to sort out all the twisted shit—like the fact that, to the Miami PD, I’m a criminal, not an FBI agent—Elizabeth would be taken from him.
She’d be on her own, and, right then, he couldn’t let that happen.
He’d almost reached the elevator when the doors opened. Only that elevator wasn’t empty.
He put Elizabeth on her feet even as he brought up his weapon. And he found himself staring straight at another gun. A gun held in the grip of—
Victor?
Victor’s blue eyes widened in stunned surprise. “What the hell?”
Saxon lowered his weapon as Victor stepped out of that elevator.
“What are you doing here?” Victor demanded. “With her? You’re supposed to be at the motel, keeping her safe.”
“Yeah, right, a little problem with that.” Saxon gave him a grim smile. “Taggert’s goons found us. Three bozos that I knew—Tommy Haines, Flint Mayo, and Romeo Gustav. They burst in on us and I…” He glanced down at the gun he still held. “Had to get us the hell away from them.”
Victor swore.
“Tell me that Taggert is off the streets now,” Saxon urged. “Come on, man, you tell me—”
“He’s dead,” Victor said, voice tight. “Looks like a hit from someone who knew exactly what the hell they were doing.”
Wait, someone had just taken out the hitman? Saxon shook his head.
“He was carved up when I found him,” Victor continued.
Elizabeth gave a choked gasp. Saxon glanced at her and saw her shaking hands rise to cover her mouth. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
His gaze slanted back to Victor. “Yeah, well, you’re not going to like this…but Wesley Locke is dead, too.”
“You didn’t—” Victor began.
“No, someone beat us here. Someone who carved up the guy with a knife.” Just like Taggert. “Sure seems to me like someone is tying up loose ends.”
A muscle flexed in Victor’s jaw.
“H-he was alive,” Elizabeth whispered.
Both Saxon and Victor looked at her then.
“When we got there…”
“So was Taggert.” Victor’s voice was grim.
A killer who liked for his victims to suffer? Liked for them to linger with no hope of survival? That’s one sick bastard.
Horror flashed on Elizabeth’s face. “Wesley said it wasn’t him! He said he didn’t put the hit on me!”
With the bodies piling up, Saxon was thinking someone else had to be pulling the strings. But who else would want Elizabeth dead?
“I called an ambulance,” Elizabeth whispered.
Victor immediately pressed the button on the elevator, calling up that ride once more. “Get her out of here,” he ordered Saxon.
Damn straight.
Elizabeth tried to edge away from them. “But—”
There were no buts. He wrapped his fingers around Elizabeth’s wrist.
“I’ll take care of things here,” Victor told him. “You keep her safe.”
That was exactly what he intended to do. The elevator doors opened. He hurried inside, pulling Elizabeth in with him. He punched the button for the garage then looked back at Victor. Right before those elevator doors slid closed again, he heard Victor mutter…
“Just who are you, Elizabeth? Who are you really?”
And Saxon’s gut clenched.
He needed Elizabeth to be exactly what she appeared to be. A woman who was smart, kind, tough…strong. He needed her to be that.
Because if she wasn’t, if she turned out to be something, someone else…he wasn’t sure what he’d do.