Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(63)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Oh, darling, relax, I’ll slit your throat and end things soon.” She lifted the gun. “But first, I want to make sure Skye’s dead. You were right, you know. I did have a partner. And he’s waiting for a phone call from me. One that tells him Skye is dead.” She smiled at Skye. “Who’s going to save you now?”

Skye stood up. She inched away from Claire, not wanting the bullet to hit the other woman. “Why?”

“Because when Trace falls, we’ll take everything he has. All that money…mine.”

This had been about money? “I thought this was for revenge.”

“Killing you…” Anna Jean shrugged. “That’s for revenge. The rest is for money.”

Drake was trying to heave himself up behind her.

Anna Jean’s finger tightened on the trigger. “At least I’m being merciful. Good-bye, little dancer.”

Skye flew forward even as—

Nothing happened?

Anna Jean’s fingers squeezed the trigger twice more, but the gun didn’t fire.

Skye slammed into her. They fell to the floor, landing right next to Drake.

“Stupid…f-freaking water…” Anna Jean snarled. “I’ll just…do it…the old f-fashioned way…” Her fingers locked around Skye’s throat and she started to squeeze.

Skye slid her own hands under Anna Jean’s, and she shoved up, fast and hard, breaking the other woman’s hold. Then Skye drove her fist into Anna Jean’s face.

Again and again.

She was pretty sure that she heard bones crunch.

Anna Jean sagged back, unmoving.

Skye jumped up. Her hand throbbed. She’d probably broken some of her own fingers. She tried to grab for the phone that had been left on the little table near the door, but the phone fell from her now burning hand. Skye dove for it, and tried to dial nine-one-one.

Anna Jean yelled. The woman just won’t stay down. Anna Jean pushed up to her knees. “B-bitch, you’re done!”

And Drake drove the knife into her heart. Anna Jean gasped. Her eyes widened. She turned her head to look at him.

His face was ashen. His eyes appeared sunken. “I didn’t…miss this time,” he told her.

Anna Jean’s lips trembled.

The nine-one-one operator came on the line.

Skye spilled out the emergency details as quickly as she could. When she looked back over at Anna Jean, the woman’s body was ominously still.

And Drake was slumped over her.

Skye scrambled to them. She rolled Drake over. Checked his pulse. Faint, thready, but he was still alive.

“Hurry,” she whispered into the phone. “Please, hurry.”

She ran back to Claire.

“T-tell me she’s dead,” Claire whispered.

If Anna Jean wasn’t dead yet, she would be soon. And will Claire be gone, too?

The phone in Skye’s hands vibrated.

Another call was coming in. Skye was still on the line with the nine-one-one operator, but she glanced at the screen and saw the note for—

Unknown caller. The message flashed across the phone’s screen.

The phone wasn’t hers. It had just been tossed on the table.

Was it Claire’s?

Or Anna Jean’s?

Anna Jean’s voice echoed through Skye’s mind. I did have a partner. And he’s waiting for a phone call from me. One that tells him Skye is dead.

Had the partner got tired of waiting?

Skye crouched next to Claire. She put one hand on the wound, keeping up the pressure. Her left hand held the phone. Her finger slid across the phone’s screen as she took the call. “H-hello?” Her voice was a rasp. Lower than normal.

Static, then. “Is she dead?”

A tear slid down Skye’s cheek because she knew that voice.

Frantic, she ended the call and immediately tried to get Trace on the line.

***

Trace bounded up the stairs. When he reached Reese’s apartment, he didn’t pause.

He kicked in the damn door.

Trace ran inside with his weapon ready, but he stopped cold at the sight of the body before him.

Detective Alex Griffin lay on the floor, face-down. Reese stood above him, a horrified look on his face. “I had no choice,” Reese muttered. “No choice.”

There was no weapon in Reese’s hands. No weapon near Alex, either.

“He did it,” Reese said. “He came here, with a knife, trying to kill me.” Reese lifted his head. “Boss, dammit, why?”

Trace’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t answer it. Not yet. Carefully, he bent next to Alex. The cop’s blond hair was matted with blood, and Alex’s pulse was weak, but steady. “He’s still alive. An ambulance is on the way.”

Reese hadn’t moved.

Trace looked up at him. “There was a shooter here.”

Reese nodded frantically. “Him. He had me tied up, I got loose, we fought—”

Trace’s phone kept vibrating. He rose to his feet. The gun was still in his hands. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” Trace told Reese.

Reese nodded. He rocked back on his heels. “A cop…I can’t believe…a cop…”

“I’ve trusted you with my life.” The phone stopped vibrating. “More importantly, I’ve trusted you with Skye’s life.”

Reese’s hand slid toward his waist. “You can always trust me,” he told Trace, the expression on his face stark. “I’ve got your back. You’ve got mine.”

Trace’s jaw locked. “Right now, I’m wondering what the hell you have behind your back.”

Reese’s hand stopped its slow glide toward his waist. “Boss?”

“Alex was hit from behind. His head is matted with blood—blood that’s already partly dry in his hair. If the blood had time to dry, that means he wasn’t shooting at me. You were.”

“What?” Shock slackened Reese’s face. “How can you say that? I would never do that! We’re friends!”

“Yes, we are.” He didn’t hear the scream of sirens yet. They needed to damn well get there. “But you’re still the man who’s been after me.” Rage beat in his blood. “You killed Sara.”

Reese flinched. “No, no, it was the cop!” He took a lunging step forward.

“Stop!” Trace shook his head and aimed his weapon at Reese’s head. “Another step, and I’ll shoot you.”

Reese’s eyes narrowed. “The same way you shot Tucker? I guess you have a history of shooting your friends, don’t you?”