Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(31)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Skye wanted her solitude. And she wanted her guards gone. I’m the woman you kept in a cage, only I didn’t even know it.

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “If she’s in the studio, then you’re done.” The place was wired with a top of the line security system. His system. She’d be safe.

“All right…but…are you okay?”

“Of course,” Trace said as he stared at the bed. He ended the call.

And he threw the phone across the room. “Never. Fucking. Better.”

***

The little ballerina had left Trace Weston.

The move was unexpected.

Infuriating.

She wasn’t supposed to leave him. She was supposed to stay with Trace. To make him weak.

Did she leave you? Or did you tell her to leave? It was so hard to be certain. Trace was good at driving people away from him.

Nothing would work if Trace wasn’t tied to the woman. He couldn’t suffer if he didn’t love.

And he’d been so convinced that Trace loved her.

Lights glowed from the second floor of the converted studio.

All alone.

He could get to Skye Sullivan right then. He could kill her easily, but if Trace was severing ties with her, what would be the point?

Wait…wait and see…

This game was all about Trace Weston. About him paying for the crimes he’d committed and the lives that he’d stolen.

And it’s about me getting what I deserve.

The lights flashed off.

Sleep well, ballerina. I’ll join you soon enough.

***

“What the f**k do you mean…Parker made bail?”

Trace glanced up from the pile of papers on his desk. He’d been at the office since 4 a.m. Sleep hadn’t exactly been happening at home, not without Skye there, so he’d escaped to the office.

Alex Griffin shifted uneasily before him. “The judge granted bail. Fifty thousand dollars.”

Trace surged to his feet. “And where did Parker get that kind of money?”

“Hell if I know.”

Parker was out. On the streets. “Have you told Skye?” Trace demanded.

“I called her.” Alex inclined his head. “I wasn’t overly worried that she’d go out and beat the crap out of the guy, though. I figured that was more your department.”

Right. “And that’s why I warranted the private visit.”

Alex’s gaze dipped to Trace’s hands. “I can’t help but notice that nice bruising you got on your knuckles. You know, Parker never stopped spinning the story about you breaking into his place and assaulting him.”

Trace forced himself to take slow, easy breaths. “You think I’m going after the guy again?”

“I think you needed a warning. Watch yourself, Weston. A jerk like Parker isn’t worth the trouble you can find heading your way.” Then Alex gave him a little salute and turned for the door.

But Trace wasn’t done. “Why did you bring Skye to Parker’s place yesterday?”

Alex glanced back at him. “Because she called me. She wanted to confront Parker, and she wanted me at her side.”

Trace’s heart raced faster.

“She was afraid of what might happen if you got to him before the cops did.” One brow crooked up. “Seems she knows you pretty well.”

She knew I was lying to her.

“Have you learned anything else about Ben Sharpe’s death?” Trace asked the cop.

“Ah, you mean since I’m actually a homicide detective now?” Alex gave him a grim smile. “It wasn’t a robbery gone wrong. The killer worked fast, and he worked efficiently. Obviously, it wasn’t his first kill. First kills are sloppy, unorganized.”

Trace waited.

“This kill was planned and deliberate. Someone wanted Sharpe out of the way.” A low sigh. “At least Sharpe didn’t suffer long.”

“You’re wrong,” Trace said, glancing over at the photograph on his desk. “He suffered for years, but his pain is gone now.”

He kept staring at that photograph, long after Alex left.

Alex had been watching him with a too-careful stare. You think I might have killed Ben Sharpe?

Did Alex realize that his alibi was bull?

Maybe…

His hand pushed into his pocket and he pulled out the dog tag. There should’ve been two tags. There always were.

He’d found one.

Where was the other?

Time to find out just where Parker had gotten this one.

***

Parker glanced over his shoulder as he hurried down the street. Were the cops still following him? He hoped that he’d given them the slip.

Bail. Freaking-A. He couldn’t believe that someone had actually ponied up the money for him.

He rounded the corner, and saw his benefactor waiting on him. Parker smiled. “Sure am glad to be seein’ you again.”

“You told me that Trace Weston would never give up his dancer.”

Parker blinked. The guy sounded angry. He took a quick step toward him. “Weston’s been obsessed with her for years. No way will he ever walk out on her—”

“You tried to kill them the other night.”

Parker’s lips snapped closed.

“That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I got pissed, okay? Seeing them on the TV, all the freakin’ time. Why does he get so much attention?” While Parker had nothing. “Trace is trash. He should be the one in the gutter.” Instead, Parker had to fight for every single thing that he had.

Life hadn’t been easy. No damn way. After Trace’s attack, it had been so tempting to just pop those little pills that would take his pain away. Again and again, he’d taken them.

Then he’d taken other things.

Trace Weston had risen, and Parker had fallen.

“You want him to lose everything, don’t you?”

Parker nodded.

“And you’d do anything to see him fail?”

“Anything…” Parker immediately swore.

“Good.”

His partner—because they were partners, right? Partners in the destruction of Trace Weston—stepped away from the wall. The sounds of the city were muted there, barely trickling past the thick brick walls of the alley.

Parker smiled at him. “What’s our next step? What do we need to—”

A blade shoved into his chest.

A gurgle slipped from Parker’s mouth.

“You need to die, and the world needs to start seeing Weston for the monster that he truly is.”

Parker felt his blood spurt from his chest when the knife jerked back. “Y-you…”