Mine To Have (Mine - Romantic Suspense Book 5)

by Cynthia Eden

  “Elizabeth?”

  She jerked at his whisper. She’d curled up into the fetal position, with her hands over her head. Her eyes found his, and he hated to see the tears glistening in her green stare. “What’s happening?”

  “Someone’s trying to kill us, sweetheart.” That one was fairly obvious, but his words weren’t mocking. Elizabeth looked as if she might be in shock, and he needed her to try and keep things together, for just a little while longer. “And we have to get the hell out of here.” Because he didn’t know just how many someones were waiting outside. He did know the man moaning on the floor. When the light had flashed, he’d recognized the guy. That was one of Taggert’s goons. Tommy Haines. One of the guys who’d been at The Blade when Saxon had taken Elizabeth away. Taggert had sent out his attack dogs, and their mission must be to bring down Saxon and Elizabeth. By any means necessary.

  He took her hand in his. “We’re going out the back. Stay with me, got it?”

  She nodded.

  Then she crawled after him as Saxon made his way to the bathroom. The “back” exit was actually the window in the bathroom. One that was a bit too narrow, but it would have to work. He’d put his knife back in its sheath, and he’d taken Tommy’s gun. They weren’t going out there unarmed, and he sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate to fire if they came under attack.

  “I’ll go through first,” he told her, the words barely a breath of sound. “Then you come out when I tell you, got it?”

  The bathroom was dark, so he couldn’t see if she was still crying or if she’d turned ashen with horror, but he heard her whisper, “Got it.”

  That was good enough for him. He shoved open the window, punched out the screen, and climbed out. He hit the ground with a hard roll, and he came up with his knife gripped in his fist. But no one was there.

  He heard a loud crash then, the sound of wood splintering, and Saxon knew the reason no one was waiting out back—it was because the bastards had just broken into the motel room.

  “Now!” Saxon called to Elizabeth. “Come to me, now!”

  She jumped through the window and straight into his arms. Over her shoulder, he saw two men running through the motel room. Oh, yeah, he knew those bastards, too. He’d seen them plenty at The Blade. Flint Mayo and Romeo Gustav. Errand boys for Taggert. Or in this case, hunters for the SOB.

  Saxon caught her, holding her tight, and he didn’t even pause. He pushed her behind him, lifted his weapon, and fired. Flint and Romeo dove for cover, and while those guys were covering their asses, Saxon and Elizabeth started running hell fast for the line of cars that were parked nearby. They had to get out of there.

  He hit the old parking lot even as he heard shouts behind him. He put Elizabeth on her feet, and he punched in the window of the closest vehicle. Glass rained down and he shoved the chunks out of his way so that he could unlock the door.

  “Saxon—”

  He pushed Elizabeth into the truck.

  Getting inside the vehicle had been the easy part.

  Getting the old truck to move…before they got their heads blown off…

  Tricky.

  His hands went to work under the dashboard.

  Bam! Bam!

  Two bullets had just slammed into the side of the truck.

  But Saxon had just succeeded in hot-wiring the ride, and the truck’s engine was growling to life. He shifted gears, reversed fast and hard, and sent their attackers scrambling for their lives. Then he slammed that gas pedal all the way against the floorboard and got them the hell out of there.

  Taggert’s men had found them, but they would be running back to their boss empty-handed.

  A red light was up ahead. Saxon didn’t even slow down. He raced through it. Then he turned to the left. A few moments later, he took a hard right. He would make sure no one followed his trail.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded. Things had moved so fast that he hadn’t been able to check and make sure none of those flying bullets had hit her.

  “No.” Hushed. Then… “How did they find us?”

  “Taggert has his men looking for you.” She was obviously a prize that Taggert wasn’t going to let go. “In this town, people will sell out their own mothers for the right amount of money. Someone saw us, someone with the wrong connection to Taggert’s men.” One possible explanation and the only story he’d give her right then. The second explanation? Well, that would be that someone in the FBI had sold them out to Taggert. Victor’s team would have known about Elizabeth’s extraction from that bar. They would have known about her temporary safe house at the motel.

  Did one of those team members turn on us?

  The idea that an FBI agent had turned on him sure as hell pissed Saxon off. Because if someone had offered him up to Taggert…Maybe Jenny didn’t screw up and blow her cover after all. Maybe someone sold her out…the same way they just tried to serve us up to Taggert on a silver platter.

  “You saved my life…” There was a faint pause. “Again.”

  He took the right turn up ahead. “So where’s my—”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth told him softly, “now how about you slow down so that you aren’t the one to kill us both?”

  He smiled and slowed down.

  But his gaze kept sliding back to the rear-view mirror. There was no sign of pursuers behind them, not yet.

  He had to find a safe place for her, then he needed to contact the only guy he actually trusted with his life—Victor had better have a way out of this nightmare.

  Because Saxon wasn’t just going to sit idly by while some jackass tried to kill him.

  I’ll fight back, and any fools who come after me—they’ll die.

  Freedom was too close. No one would take this chance at a new life away from him. No one.

  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. “G
uess…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!”