by Cynthia Eden
“Guess who else is about to die?” Gary’s voice came again. Sharp. Angry. “Give you a hint…he’s an asshole undercover agent who is about to get a bullet in his head.”
No, that couldn’t happen. “We have to help Saxon,” Elizabeth whispered to Victor. “He needs us!”
“Saxon is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Everyone needed help sometime. “He’s been shot! Twice!” She kicked at Victor. “Let me go to him!” Because she was terrified that she’d hear another shot soon—a shot that had been fired into Saxon’s head. No, no, he can’t die for me. Her parents—Saxon—no!
Saxon…with his dark eyes and his scarred knuckles. His sensual touch and the laughter that seemed far too rusty. He couldn’t die. This couldn’t happen. She struggled against Victor with all of her strength. She kicked, she punched, she clawed, and she got loose.
“No!” Victor yelled.
But she was frenzied. Elizabeth ran through the open door and outside. “Let him go!”
Saxon was on the ground, slumped forward with his hands in the dirt, and the man—Gary—now stood behind him, the gun at the back of Saxon’s head.
At her cry, Gary’s head snapped up. He stared at her, then smiled. “You have been so much trouble. You should have just been in that car two years ago—you were supposed to be in the car—and all my loose ends would have been tied up.”
She ran toward him. “Don’t hurt, Saxon!” That man—she’d seen him before. She knew it. But she couldn’t remember where or when. She just couldn’t place him.
Victor’s footsteps pounded behind her.
Gary smiled. “Too late for that…”
His fingers were squeezing the trigger. She could see them.
“No!” Elizabeth screamed.
Victor tackled Elizabeth. They hit the ground and she waited to hear the sound of a gunshot, a shot that would end Saxon’s life.
His smile…I loved his smile. So beautiful. It changed him, made him look so—
She heard a strangled cry. Victor eased his hold on her and when he looked up, she rolled away from him as tears streaked down her cheeks.
But she wasn’t staring at Saxon’s prone body. Gary was the one on the ground. The gun had fallen from his fingers, and a knife protruded from his throat.
“Hell, yes,” Victor muttered as he leapt to his feet.
She staggered up and rushed toward Saxon. He’d just grabbed one of the discarded guns—Elizabeth didn’t know if it was Saxon’s weapon or Gary’s—and, as she watched, Saxon put the gun to Gary’s forehead. “My turn,” Saxon rasped.
She froze. Her knees locked, and Elizabeth couldn’t move.
“Saxon, no!” Victor roared.
Gary was still alive, still making some horrible gurgling sound.
“He planned to kill us all,” Saxon said. His shirt was soaked with blood. “You know that. He was going to kill me, kill you, kill Elizabeth…then go right back to the FBI. Keep selling the…good agents out.” He was on his knees over Gary. “No more…selling them out, Gary.”
Victor didn’t rush up to Saxon. He approached the other guy slowly, cautiously. “We need him alive. If he’s alive, he can tell us who he’s been working with. He can tell us what the hell he has been doing all of these years. The dead don’t talk, man, you know that.”
“Saxon?” Elizabeth whispered.
His head turned toward her. He was so pale.
Too much blood.
“If he’s dead,” Saxon said, his words slurring a bit, “then I know he can’t ever hurt you again.”
“He’ll be locked up!” Victor promised frantically. “Don’t! Shit, I need him alive!”
And she needed Saxon alive. Elizabeth crept closer to him.
“He killed your parents,” Saxon whispered. “Doesn’t he deserve to die for that?”
And the pain of their deaths was a raw wound inside of her again. Her mom, her dad…but—
No. No, she couldn’t let Saxon do this. Her hand reached out. She touched his shoulder. “You saved us. We’re all okay. He’ll go to jail and pay for what he did to them.”
He shuddered and didn’t lower the weapon. His gaze drifted over her face. “You were…trading yourself. For me.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Not worth it. Remember that.” He lifted the gun away from Gary’s head. “Vic…”
Victor took the gun from him. His hard stare raked over Gary. “Shit, how much damn longer can he live like that without medical fucking intervention?”
“Don’t know…” Saxon muttered. “But when you get the docs…make ‘em work on me first.”
And then he fell to the ground.
Something inside of Elizabeth splintered right then. “Saxon!”
***
She stayed with Saxon for as long as she could. She held his hand, kept pressure on his wounds, and she talked to Saxon the whole time that Victor was gone to call for help. Elizabeth wasn’t even sure what she talked to him about. She just kept whispering to him, over and over, and she prayed.
When the helicopter flew in to take him and Gary away, she jumped on board. Victor was beside her, but they weren’t able to talk with Saxon anymore. Medics had swarmed around him—him and Gary.
Gary was still clinging to life. So was Saxon.
“Save Saxon first!” Victor snarled at the medics. “Do you understand? You save my brother first!”
After what seemed like an eternity, the chopper landed on a helipad at a hospital. Doctors rushed out. And Saxon was taken away.
She stared after him, watching the hospital doors swing closed. Be okay, Saxon. Be okay. Elizabeth looked to the right. Victor was at her side. He was as stiff and hard as a statue, but his face was stamped with emotion.
Fear.
She recognized that emotion immediately because fear was eating her alive right then. She found herself reaching for Victor’s hand. Her fingers locked with his, squeezed. “He’s the strongest man I’ve ever met,” Elizabeth said simply.
Victor swallowed. “Even the strong can’t stop death.” Then he pulled from her. “I have to go call our sister—I have to call Jasmine. She needs to know about Saxon.” He hurried toward those swinging doors.
And Elizabeth was left there. She looked down at her shaking fingers and saw Saxon’s blood on her hands.
So many people had died in this mess. Wesley. The men at the motel. That bastard Taggert.
And even my parents—it’s all linked.
But Saxon, no, he couldn’t die, too. She couldn’t lose him. Not when she’d just found him.
Chapter Nine
“Have I ever mentioned…” Victor demanded, his voice rough and hard, “how much I hate it when you pull your hero crap with me?”
Ah, if Vic was pissed, then Saxon knew he was going to be just fine. With his eyes still closed, Saxon smiled. “’Cause you’re…jealous…when I get the glory.”
“And the bullets in your sorry hide.”
Yes, the bullets. Those would be why he felt so ridiculously weak right then. Saxon sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. Might as well see the damage. But when he looked down, he saw only the white hospital covers.
“They stitched you up. Had to give you some blood because you’d lost too much, but you’ll make it.”
He looked over at Victor. Vic was pale as he sat in the chair near the hospital bed. “You look…” Saxon managed. “Like hell.”
“Yeah, well, you look like shit, so I guess that makes us a pretty good match.” Victor’s lips curled faintly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. And, after a moment, the smile faded completely. “I had to call Jazz.”
Damn. “You shouldn’t have…worried her.” Jazz. Jasmine Bennett. Well, now Jasmine Archer. Once upon a time, Saxon, Victor, and Jasmine had come together on the streets. They’d relied on one another for survival, and, as time slid past, they’d turned into a family.
If a fairly screwed-up one.
“She�
��s flying down here.”
His eyes closed. “I’m fine. She doesn’t need to see me.” The last thing he wanted was to worry Jasmine. She’d been through enough hell. The woman was supposed to be happy now, living the high life with her rich and adoring husband in Vegas. And if that guy ever forgets to be adoring, Vic and I will kick his ass.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
Saxon stiffened. “I’m a bleeder.” He hadn’t been that close to death, had he?
“You almost died on the chopper ride here. If you didn’t stay with us, then hell yes, Jazz deserved to know. She would have kicked my ass if I hadn’t told her.”
But Jasmine would just worry about him, and he hated for her to worry. She’d gotten lucky a few months back. Found a smart man who appreciated her for all that she was—a man who’d been willing to risk his life in order to protect Jasmine from the dangers that stalked her.
She deserved some happiness. She didn’t deserve to get pulled back into his and Victor’s mess.
“Tell me,” he said softly, “that Gary died on the chopper.”
One less threat facing Elizabeth.
“He’s in critical condition.”
The machines near Saxon were beeping in a steady rhythm. “I should’ve shot him when I had the chance.”
Victor gripped his arm. “That’s not how the FBI works. You know that.”
Exhaustion pulled at him. Maybe from the blood loss. Maybe from the drugs they’d no doubt pumped into him. But Saxon managed to open his eyes once more. “How many times do I have to…tell you? Not FBI…anymore.”
“Then you’re still going through with it? Walking away…starting new?”
“Yes.” His eyes were sagging closed. His future waited. That perfect spot that he’d picked out in California. Jazz’s husband had even been helping him manage that place for the last few months. Something else I owe Drake for.
One day, he’d pay him back.
“You sure…about the things you’ll be giving up?”
“Undercover assignments…days with drug dealers…thieves…murderers?” He exhaled. “I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll put the paperwork through,” Victor told him, “and Saxon Black will be no more.” He rose then, and headed for the door. But then he hesitated. “You haven’t asked about her.”
He fought to keep his eyes open a few seconds more.
“She was giving up her life for you…you know that, right, man?” Victor looked back at him. “You took two bullets while you were protecting her, and she ran out to face Gary, giving herself up, for you.”
He knew exactly what Elizabeth had done. He would never forget it. Or her.
It’s not possible to forget her.
“You haven’t asked about her,” Victor said again. “Why the hell not?”
He swallowed. His throat ached. Had they shoved a tube down it? The docs were always so eager to do that. “Why ask…” Saxon muttered. “For what you can’t have?”
Elizabeth deserved someone a whole lot better than he was. Someone who wasn’t so comfortable with death. Someone who didn’t have to be talked down from killing a man.
Someone who wasn’t surprised when he heard the sound of his own, real laughter.
“Others will come after her.”
The machines around him beeped—fast and hard.
“I mean, if that hit is still on her, don’t you think they’ll come?” Victor pushed. ‘When word leaks about what went down in Miami, others will appear to collect the bounty. Even though Luther Bates is still in prison, we both know his power stretches far beyond those walls. If he wants her dead…”
She will be. Victor didn’t say those words. But then, he didn’t have to voice them. Saxon knew the score. He knew how men like Luther worked.
Saxon’s hands fisted. The machines near him—and their annoying beeping—seemed to be growing louder. “Then you have to…make Luther cancel the hit.”
Victor stared back at him. “And if he doesn’t? You know there’s only one option I can give her.”
A new name. A new life. Somewhere else. Witness Protection—it was the option that Victor had offered to Jazz when her life had been on the line.
“Then she’s gone,” Victor told him quietly. “For good. You going to be okay with that?”
No, he wasn’t okay with that. He wasn’t okay with anything about this tangled hell. He’d walked into the back room of The Blade and gotten caught by a pair of frightened green eyes. Desperate eyes.
“I’ll give you forty-eight hours.” Victor inclined his head toward Saxon. “Then there will be nothing I can do for you.” He opened the door and left.
Saxon’s eyes closed. Elizabeth. Talk about a twisted fate. He’d spent years in hell, and, days before he’d gotten out of his undercover business, he’d been offered a visit to heaven.
And all he’d had to do…was nearly die for that pleasure.
It was totally fucking worth it.
***
A soft hand brushed over his cheek, pulling Saxon from the darkness of sleep.
“Oh, Saxon,” a low, feminine voice sighed his name, “what have you done to yourself this time?”
The voice and the touch were familiar. So when his eyes opened, he had a smile on his lips because he didn’t want Jasmine to worry about him.
She stood beside his bed, and she wasn’t alone. The shark-in-a-suit that was her new husband—Drake Archer—waited at her side.
“You got here fast,” Saxon said, the words a little too gruff.
“That’s the benefit of having a private jet.” Jasmine—hell, to him she would always just be Jazz—smiled at him. “I’m a long way from those streets where we met.”
But they hadn’t technically met on the streets. They’d met in a blood-stained boxing ring. In fights that weren’t sanctioned anywhere. He and Victor had been facing off. They’d beat each other to bloody pulps—all to earn a little cash. For food. For survival. When the fight had ended, everyone else had left, everyone but Jazz. She’d patched them up.
They’d become family.
Saxon’s gaze slid toward Drake. As usual, the guy was watching him with a wary stare and keeping his hand on Jazz. After all the shit that had went down in their relationship, it wasn’t surprising that Drake was still afraid Jazz might slip right through his fingers and vanish.
The way Elizabeth is going to do.
She edged ever closer to him. “I’m not supposed to get a call from Victor, telling me that you’re fighting for your life.”
He tried to sit up. The damn stitches were pulling. “Vic panicked. I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t. If you were fine, then you wouldn’t be in that bed. The doctors wouldn’t have spent hours stitching you back up.”
He caught her hand. He’d always wanted to protect Jazz, even from the first moment they’d met. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to guard her, not like he wanted. She’d worked undercover for Victor, too, and on her last case, she’d been hurt. Right in front of me. Whenever he remembered that moment, fury tore through him. And he wanted to kill the bastard who’d put his hand on her.
He knew that Jazz’s husband felt the same way. Drake might look like a fancy suit, but the guy had some real killer instincts. He’d proved that, again and again.
It’s why I like the guy. Why I told Vic to back the hell off and let Jazz be happy with him.
“What happened? Vic would only say that a mission went bad.”
Very bad. “We had a traitor in our midst. He came after me and Vic and the…the woman I was protecting.”
Jasmine’s brown eyes showed her worry. “Is he still a threat?”
“According to Vic, he’s here in the hospital, hooked up to more machines than I am.”
Drake whistled. “And I’m guessing you’re the reason he’s that way.”
Saxon focused on Drake. “He was going to kill Elizabeth. So yeah, I wanted him dead.” Don’t act like you can’t rel
ate.
Drake nodded. “I’m surprised he’s still alive.”
“Victor made me stop.” Victor, and Elizabeth. Because he hadn’t wanted her to see him as just a killer. Now, well, now she’d probably never be seeing him again, so what did it matter?
“You should come back to Vegas with us,” Jasmine said, her words rushing out. When she got nervous, her words always sounded a little fast to him. “There’s plenty of room—”
Uh, yeah, because Drake owned a chunk of Sin City.
“And I can keep an eye on you.”
Drake nodded. “You know you’re always welcome. You’re family.”
Saxon pulled Jasmine close and gave her a hug. He ignored the sting of the stitches. What did a little pain matter? “I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”
“You scared me,” she whispered. There was a brief pause and then she revealed, “But that wildness you carry…it’s always scared me a bit. Sometimes, it seemed like you had a death wish.”
Not anymore. He eased back a bit. “I’m done with undercover work. I’m free, Jazz. Free.”
She smiled up at him.
“But I’m not coming to Vegas.”
Her smile dimmed.
“You know what I have waiting on me.” His dream. So close.
And, yet…still far away.
Did that dream always seem a little empty? Or was that just because—because I won’t see Elizabeth again?
“I get to visit you,” Jasmine said.
“Anytime you want.” Of course, he’d be different in this new life. He’d leave his killing past behind. No longer would he have to pretend to be a criminal—I’ve been pretending for so long that I almost lost myself.
But then he’d busted into that back room at The Blade and seen her.
Jasmine was searching his gaze. “Something is different.”
“I’m drugged,” he told her bluntly. “Pain meds.” That he hated. He’d already told the docs no more. He couldn’t stand the slow, sluggish feeling in his body.
“Not that.” Her hand waved vaguely toward him. “You seem different.” Her gaze turned calculating. “Who was the woman?”
Elizabeth.