Mine to Have (Mine #5)(46)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Elizabeth?” Now he sounded worried.

She blinked again, a few fast times, and looked back at him. “You matter to me, too.”  More and more with each moment that passed.

He took a few steps toward her and started to reach out for her, but then he stopped. “I’m a sweaty mess. I should go get showered. Get back to work.”

“I should, too. Get back to work, I mean.” Though the idea of stepping into a shower with him sure was tempting.  Her gaze went back to the punching bag. “I bet you were fantastic to see in the ring,” she whispered.

“Damn straight.”

The guy was so cocky sometimes. Laughter spilled from her.

“God, but I love that sound.” His words were just as rough as before and his eyes had darkened with a feverish intensity.

Her laughter died away. “Saxon?”

“If I had my way, I’d hear your laughter every day.  It just…it makes me feel good.” Then, before she could speak, he whirled away and picked up a towel.  “I know I sound like an idiot, so just—”  

She touched his arm. What a sweaty, strong arm it was. His muscles flexed beneath her touch.  “You don’t sound like an idiot.”

He looked down at her.  A faint furrow appeared between his brows, as if he were trying to figure her out.

So she decided to help him understand things. “To be really honest, I want to jump you right now.”

His lips parted in surprise.

“But I have two people waiting in my office.” And she also had some serious lust pouring through her.  Because Saxon when he was angry and fighting—sexy. Very, very sexy.  “So I have to get back to them.”  She pushed onto her tip toes.  Her lips brushed against his. “But as soon as this work day is over, you’re totally going to be mine,” she told him, voice soft and husky with desire.

Then she pulled away. Turned for the door. She took a few steps—

“Sweetheart, don’t you know…” His rough voice stopped her.

She looked back at him.

“I already am yours.”

***

Victor’s phone rang just as he pulled up in front of the house at 2809 Wiltmore Road. The house that had once belonged to Hugh Rowe.  Not that Hugh was supposed to live there any longer. He’d lost the house as he’d lost nearly everything, fighting to get his father released from prison.  Now Hugh was supposed to be living and working in Charleston. Except he hadn’t reported to work for a week and a half. 

The phone rang again. Someone has bad timing. He reached down and lifted the phone to his ear. “What?” Okay, so that was a pissed-off bark, but he was so close on this mission.

He thought that Zoe Peters might be in that house. It was the only house on the overgrown street. Twisting trees and heavy bushes were everywhere else. This place was his destination—and he couldn’t just sit his ass in the car, talking on the phone. He needed to move.

“I thought you needed to know,” Tracy said softly, “Gary Warren is dead.”

What?

“He came at me during the interrogation. I didn’t have a choice. I-I had to shoot him.”

Hell.  His eyes squeezed shut for an instant. “We’ll deal with this when I get back.”

“You need to be back right now! Cops were watching the interrogation, they saw him attack me, but you know FBI Brass will want you here to—”

“Screw the Brass. I have an agenda of my own right now.”  His eyes were on the house once more. It looked abandoned. As if no one had been there in months.

But he knew how deceiving appearances could be. 

“Where are you?” Tracy whispered.

“I’m helping a friend.” Saxon, I’m paying you back. “As soon as the job is done, I’ll be back. I promise.”

He disconnected the call.  Climbed from the car. Checked his weapon.  There was no sound on the street. Nothing at all. It was a hot day and there wasn’t even any wind stirring from those trees.

He figured he had two options. Sneak in or go in with guns blazing.  Since there was only one road leading to the house, sneaking wasn’t so much an option for him. The guy would have heard my car coming up.

He took out his weapon. It looked like option two was the winner.  Time to go in blazing.

He ran for the door. He didn’t have a search warrant because this wasn’t any kind of sanctioned case. He’d checked the missing persons’ database—no Zoe Peters was listed. Since he couldn’t handle this one the right, legal way, he’d do it his way.  Victor kicked that door in and raced inside. “FBI!” he yelled.

But the small den was empty. It appeared to have been empty for a long time.  The empty room was covered with only cobwebs and dirt. A rat ran across the floor.

Victor raced through the narrow hallway. The bedroom on the right was empty. Half of the wall in there looked as if it had rotted away. He turned to the bedroom on the left. “Zoe Peters!” Her name was close to a roar. “I’m here to help you!” Only he wasn’t seeing her.  He checked the kitchen—or what was left of the kitchen. Someone had ripped out the sink and all of the electrical outlets. The house had been trashed. He knew it was a foreclosure, but he’d been hoping…shit, he’d hoped that—

“Here!”

He spun around. His feet kicked against an old rug that had been left at the edge of the hall. And why the hell was that rug there? Everything else had been taken from the place.

He shoved the rug out of his way and saw the trapdoor that it had hidden.  The house had a cellar. Well, no wonder the home had looked deserted from the outside.  He lifted up the trapdoor and it gave a long, loud creak.

Darkness waited below him.  He reached down and touched a wooden ladder that was connected to the wall.  He climbed down, making certain to keep his gun ready.

When he touched down on the floor of that cellar or basement or whatever the hell it was, he pulled a pen light from his pocket and shone it around the area. There was a door on his right.  He made his way to it and twisted the knob. Locked.

Like that ever stopped him. He kicked that door open, just as he’d done upstairs, and Victor rushed inside at the same time that the lights flashed on, far too bright.  He blinked, caught off guard for a moment and blinded by the light, then something slammed into the back of his head. He hit the floor hard, but Victor rolled quickly, coming back up to his feet in a lunge. The broken remnants of a wooden chair were around him.