Mine To Have (Mine - Romantic Suspense Book 5)

by Cynthia Eden

  Wait, he was leaving? “Uh—”

  And he was already gone.

  So she stood there, keeping close to the door because it let the sunshine in, and those chirps and cries got louder and louder. She started to inch deeper into the cabin’s interior. The lights flashed on. She was so startled that she gave a little scream.

  Saxon came running. “Elizabeth!”

  She pressed her lips together. Embarrassed now, her gaze slid away from his.

  Saxon laughed. It was a kind of rusty sound. “Thought you might have seen a snake. You know…the anaconda kind.”

  Elizabeth’s stare jumped right back to his face. Oh, jeez, that smile of his was back in place. The smile that said, Hi, I’m uber sexy. Don’t you think so?

  He shrugged. “I know the cabin isn’t much, but it’s a safe place. I’ll make contact with Victor soon, and we’ll see what the next step is for you.”

  She turned around and looked at the cabin. The place was small, but absolutely immaculate. There was a big, dark rug on the floor. Gleaming, wooden chairs. A table. A bed—one obviously designed to hold a single person, but it had nice, comfy looking pillows on top of it. And there was a bathroom. How much more did she really need? “It’s perfect.” Snakes and all.

  “Good. You rest here. Try to get some sleep.”

  The floor creaked. She looked back and saw that he’d moved toward the doorway. Uh, oh. “Saxon?”

  “I’ll check in with Victor and be back before you can even miss me.”

  Doubtful. “Saxon—”

  “And I’m sorry about Wesley Locke. Never in a million years would I have wanted you to watch him die.”

  Her breath caught.

  And he—was gone. He’d just shut the door. Locked it, and by the time she got the door unlocked and open, he was already back in the truck. ”Saxon!” He was really just dumping her there? After that kiss? After that whole wanting-her-more-than-breath thing?

  Leaving?

  Her jaw dropped.

  His tail-lights vanished.

  Yes, he’d dumped her.

  The chirps grew even louder. Elizabeth hurriedly shut the door.

  So much for needing her more than breath. That guy really needed to work on his seduction technique. ‘Cause abandoning a girl in the middle of snake central? So not sexy. So not.

  I’m sorry about Wesley Locke.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and wondered just what the hell she was supposed to do now.

  ***

  Since he knew this particular area so well, Saxon knew the exact spot where he’d start getting cell service again. He’d been working the undercover assignment in Miami for the last few months, and he’d been escaping to his cabin whenever he could.

  On the days when I have to escape so I can try to remember who the hell I really am.

  He yanked out his burner phone, and he called Victor. The phone rang, and he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. The damn truck actually smelled like Elizabeth now. She didn’t just smell like honey, she tasted like that sweetness. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that he could just eat her up and—

  “Agent Monroe,” Victor snapped.

  Victor was always snapping. The guy needed to learn how to relax the hell up. Maybe once Saxon was out of the business, he’d help his friend. “She’s in a safe spot.”

  Silence. “You’re on a burner.”

  Obviously. What might not be so obvious to Vic… “I’m not liking this whole setup, Vic. I mean, we were found at the motel. And now both Taggert and Locke are dead? By the same killer’s hand?”

  “We don’t know yet if it was the same—”

  “Aw, man, it’s me. Don’t feed me that line of crap. You and I both know we have to be looking at the same killer. What I don’t understand is…why? Why is someone so determined to get Elizabeth?”

  When he thought of Taggert, fury pumped through him. He’d lost months of his life so that bastard could be brought in and turned against his clients. Taggert was supposed to be pressured into rolling on all the people who’d hired him over the years. This case should have resulted in a massive takedown.

  And now—now he had no clue what was happening.

  When Victor didn’t respond, Saxon said, “You need to get an APB out on Tommy Haines, Flint Mayo, and Romeo Gustav. I want those bastards out of the game and locked in a cell, understand?” Maybe those goons could tell them who’d originally hired—then killed—their boss. Victor thought of just how close those men had come to getting Elizabeth. “I can’t promise you I’ll let those bastards live if they come after her again.”

  Silence. Victor would know that Saxon wasn’t bullshitting. His days of playing by the FBI’s rules were over.

  “I’ll find them,” Victor promised. “Hell, once they get word that their boss is dead, you know they’ll panic, anyway. No doubt they’ll cut and try to run from the city, but my team will stop them.”

  “You’d better.” Or he’d be stopping them.

  “Where are you now?” Victor demanded.

  Saxon hesitated. Normally, he told Victor everything. The guy was closer to him than any brother could ever be. After the shit they’d survived together, they’d formed a bond that Saxon had never expected. Only…

  Elizabeth’s life is on the line. “I’ve got her someplace safe.” Like he’d said before.

  “Saxon?” There was surprise in Victor’s voice. But Victor shouldn’t be surprised. Saxon was using a burner phone for a reason.

  I’m not sure who I can trust. Because maybe someone had tipped Taggert off about Jenny’s true identity. And maybe that same someone had led Taggert’s men to the motel. “Did your team know that I had Elizabeth at the motel?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  That was all he needed to hear.

  Victor’s long sigh carried over the phone. “I get it. You still think someone from my team could be selling us out?”

  Because, yeah, after Jenny’s death, Saxon had brought up this suspicion to Victor. By nature, he was just a suspicious bastard.

  Victor’s voice dropped to a low, lethal whisper. “I told you, I checked everyone—”

  “And I told you…I don’t trust one hundred percent—not anyone but you.” Because he knew that money could buy nearly anyone’s loyalty.

  “You won’t tell me where Elizabeth is,” Victor fired back. “So how the fuck do you trust me? You know I would never turn on you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  Right. Shit. This was Vic. His family.“I’ll tell you, but you don’t tell anyone else. Not even Gary and Tracy.”

  “Not anyone else,” Victor agreed grimly.

  Saxon stared out at the swamp around him. “I’ve got her in my cabin.” Vic was the only other person who knew the location of the place. If I can’t trust him, then I truly can’t trust anyone.

  “I’ll round up Taggert’s crew. We’ll put pressure on them, and they’ll roll on the person who took out the hit on your girl.”

  “Elizabeth isn’t mine.” He might want her, but she wasn’t…his.

  “Keep her safe, and I’ll check in with you in six hours.”

  Saxon glanced down at his phone, noting the time. He’d never missed a check-in with Victor. When you were undercover, check-ins were necessary for survival. Before he ended the call, he had to say, “Kurt Taggert was one cold-blooded SOB. So was Locke. Who the hell do you think got close enough to gut them with a knife?”

  “I’m going to find out,” Victor said, “but, right now, my money’s already on the perp being an unhappy client of Taggert’s.”

  And the client who would be the most pissed off right then? That would be the guy who’d paid to have a woman killed…only that woman had rode off into the night on the back of Saxon’s motorcycle.

  I-I knew who she…was…Locke’s words replayed through his head once more. Those words didn’t make sense, but often the words of a man
nearly dying were nothing more than nonsense.

  “Six hours,” Saxon said. “Now I’ve got to go. The woman doesn’t like being alone with snakes.”

  “What? She doesn’t like—”

  He hung up on Victor and turned the truck back around. Elizabeth was waiting.

  ***

  Victor shoved his phone into his pocket and turned to walk inside Locke’s condo once more. The crime scene techs were running around, working their mojo, and they were already analyzing the blood spatter. The body was still on the floor, and the place was starting to smell.

  So much time and energy wasted. The whole goal had been to bring Kurt Taggert in alive. He could’ve turned on so many powerful men and women in the area. Now he was gone. He was dead and Wesley Locke had been sent to the morgue.

  Which one died first? Had the killer attacked Locke, left him to die, then went to kill Taggert? Or had the guy hauled ass over to the condo once he’d taken care of Taggert?

  “Uh, Victor? I checked the security footage.”

  He turned to face Gary.

  But one look at the guy’s face, and he knew the news wasn’t good.

  “Someone sabotaged the feed.”

  Of course.

  “But I can tell you…” Gary added quickly, “that based on when the feed stopped, I think our guy came after Locke first. Because the feed stopped around the same time that Saxon was rescuing Ms. Ward from The Blade.”

  And Taggert had definitely been alive then.

  “Put an APB out right now for Tommy Haines, Flint Mayo, and Romeo Gustav,” he demanded. “Those bastards went after Ms. Ward at the Moontree Motel.”

  Tracy’s eyes widened. “Is she dead?”

  “No, she’s safe. Saxon still has her.” And as long as Saxon was there, Victor knew the woman would stay alive. “Find those men,” Victor said. “While we still have the chance to salvage this case.”

  ***

  Saxon slowly opened the door to the cabin. His shoulders were tense because he pretty much expected Elizabeth to try and rip him a new one since he’d dumped her there, but instead of being greeted with an angry outburst, he heard only…

  Silence.

  He shut the door. His gaze swept the room, and he saw her in his bed.

  She’d changed clothes. Ditched the sexy skirt and low-cut top. She’d put on one of his old t-shirts that he kept at the cabin. She was wearing it, and her long, perfect legs were peeking out from the bedding.

  He walked toward her, moving slowly, and when the floor creaked beneath him, he tensed. But Elizabeth didn’t wake up. He edged closer to her. She’d put her new tennis shoes by the bed. Her hand was curled under the side of the pillow. Her breathing came, slow and easy. She looked sweet, but tempting as all hell.

  His fingers brushed over her cheek, smoothing her hair back. When he looked at Elizabeth, he thought of all the things he’d given up while he’d worked undercover.

  A family. A life. A home.

  Someone who actually cared about what the hell happened to him.

  Unlike Jenny, he hadn’t been willing to let someone else get close while he worked his missions. Because, he knew that his cases crossed the line too many times. And it wasn’t as if someone would fall for Saxon, the gang leader. Or Saxon…the damn criminal with a killing past and a record that stretched for years.

  He wasn’t exactly considered dateable by most of the world.

  So he didn’t date. When he wanted to fuck, he fucked. And when he wanted more—

  I never want more.

  His fingers brushed over her hair once more.

  I never want more.

  She turned into his hand, and, still asleep, she whispered, “Saxon.”

  Fuck.

  ***

  Victor hauled ass back to the Moontree Motel. When he got there, it wasn’t a particular surprise to find the parking lot mostly empty. The folks in that type of place tended to clear out by dawn.

  He made his way back to room number thirteen. The door was shut—not fully, because the lock had been smashed, but someone had tried to close the thing.

  “Those are bullet holes,” Tracy said from behind him. Tracy had followed him to the motel while Gary stayed back to work more on the crime scene at Wesley Locke’s place.

  He nodded at her words, not even glancing over at Tracy. He’d already seen the holes that graced the side of the building—and those bullets had pierced right through the glass on the window.

  “It looks like there was one hell of a gun fight here,” Tracy continued, “and no one bothered to call the cops?”

  “You know this isn’t that kind of place.”

  “But, bullets—”

  He drew his own weapon and headed inside. The door squeaked as he pushed it open, and the smell—a smell that he recognized too well—had his jaw clenching.

  “Cancel the APB,” Victor ordered as he stared at the men in front of him. The bodies were on the floor. They’d been hit multiple times, that was obvious. Taken out, eliminated with brutal efficiency.

  “I thought Saxon said he left them alive.”

  Victor bent next to Tommy Haines’s body. He recognized the guy who’d been one of Taggert’s flunkies. At least six bullet wounds covered the guy’s chest—and one had been fired right into his head. “Yeah, that’s what he said.” He paused. “So that means our killer attacked after Saxon was clear.” Because he didn’t believe for a moment that Saxon had killed those three men. Saxon wouldn’t lie to him about something like that.

  His gaze slid over to the other two bodies. Both men had also been shot in the head, execution-style. “We’ll need full work-ups on the bodies. Hopefully, the killer left behind a clue we can use to track him.”

  Tracy whistled.

  “Who the hell are we dealing with here, boss?”

  He didn’t know, but he was sure determined to find out. “Cancel that APB,” he said again. His gaze swept the room. When folks in this motel had heard the first blast of gunfire, they would have hunkered down. The less they saw, the better—that was always the mantra in places like this one.

  Victor headed back out into the sunlight. He sucked in a deep breath, one that didn’t taste like death, and gazed out at the empty parking lot. Sonofabitch. Everyone had definitely cleared out of dodge. He turned toward the check-in office. Maybe the young clerk had managed to catch a glimpse of the killer.

  He headed into the check-in area. The bell over his head gave a little jingle when he opened the door. “Hey, kid,” he called out. When he’d gotten the room the night before, the guy behind the counter had barely looked eighteen. “Kid?” No one else appeared to be in the small office.

  His gut clenching, Victor strode forward. His leaned over the counter and glanced down to the floor behind it.

  The desk clerk wasn’t going to be ID’ing anyone. He was in a pool of blood. Just like the others, he’d been shot in the head. Another body, another damn pool of blood—when did this shit become my life?

  “Fuck,” Victor muttered. Someone hadn’t wanted to risk being spotted by the guy. You came in here, didn’t you? Because you wanted to question the guy about Saxon and Elizabeth. Then when he’d stopped asking his questions, the perp had eliminated the witness.

  We’re dealing with a professional. One who can kill just as easily with his gun as he can with his knife. A guy who didn’t care how many people he took out.

  But something was nagging at Victor. If the guy was a professional hitter—and it sure looked that way—then why had Taggert been the one with Elizabeth Ward at The Blade? That part just didn’t make sense to Victor. Why hire out work that you could just do yourself?

  This case was spinning out of control. The bodies were piling up, and, so far, they had nothing to show for their months of undercover work.

  Nothing but the dead.

  Chapter Six

  Elizabeth opened her eyes. There was a wooden ceiling over her head. She frowned up at that wood. The ceiling in her
bedroom was white. Not a cherry wood.

  Her heart started to beat faster. She turned her head—and met a pair of dark, glittering eyes.

  It wasn’t a nightmare. Oh, damn. Wesley is dead, and I’m being—hunted.

  She swallowed. “I don’t care what you see in movies, that shit is creepy.”

  Saxon frowned at her. “What?” He was sitting at the little table, his chair turned toward her.

  She sat up in bed, making sure to keep all of her important parts covered. “Staring at a woman while she sleeps. It’s not sexy. It’s straight-up stalker-like.”

  He blinked. He might have even flushed a bit. With his tanned skin, it was hard to tell for sure.

  “It’s creepy,” she continued, “so don’t do it again.”

  “I was keeping watch on you,” he muttered.

  “Uh, huh…”

  “And you’re fucking cute when you sleep.”

  Now it was her turn to blink.

  “Besides,” Saxon continued, voice deepening a bit. “You were the one calling my name.”

  She shot out of the bed. “I was not!”

  He leaned back in the chair and his gaze slid over her. “Yes, you were. So I thought I’d stay close in case you…needed me. I’m a helper like that.”

  He was lying. Had to be lying. There was no way she’d called for the guy in her sleep. She put her hands on her hips and stalked toward him. “Did you talk to Agent Monroe?”

  “Um.”

  Um was not an answer. “Did they catch the guys at the motel? Have they found out who killed Wesley?” Do I get to return home now?

  “Not yet, but Victor’s working on things.”

  Right. Good old Victor.

  She raked a hand through her hair. When she glanced over at him, his gaze was locked on her—and the darkness seemed to shine with intensity.

  “Damn, but you are pretty,” he told her. “Shouldn’t your hair be all messed up when you wake? It just looks tousled and…sexy.”

  “Wh-what?” She had to look like a wreck. No make-up. Crazy hair. So far from the land of sex appeal.

  “Why are you wearing my shirt?” His right hand lifted, and the back of his fingers —those scarred knuckles that shouldn’t be oddly attractive to her—lightly caressed her arm, right beneath the edge of the t-shirt. “Not that I’m complaining. You look far better in it than I ever do.”