Mine to Keep (Mine 2)

“Take care of my sister,” Sara gasped out. “Please!” Then she cried, “My apartment—”

The line went dead.

Trace tried to call her back. The phone just rang. Trace ditched his pajama pants and dressed in an instant. Then he ran for the door. Skye rushed after him, but he spun, throwing up his arms and blocking the elevator before she could come with him.

“I think it’s him,” he said, the words too quiet.

Skye’s eyes were wide. “What’s happening? I thought you were talking to Sara.”

“He has her.” That message had been too deliberate. “If I don’t get to her, she’ll be dead.” Hell, it might already be too late. Trace pushed the button on his phone that would connect him to Reese. “Stay here,” he told Skye as he backed into the elevator. “I’ve got to help her.”

Skye watched him with troubled eyes. The elevator doors began to close.

Reese answered on the second ring. “Yeah, boss, what’s up?”

Skye jumped into the elevator.

She wasn’t supposed to do that! “Get to Sara’s place,” Trace told Reese. “As fast as you can. I’m sending a full team behind you.” He glared at Skye.

She punched the button for the lobby.

“I think…I think the killer’s after Sara. Get there. Get there. I’m on my way.” He ended the call. “What the hell are you doing?” Trace asked, trying to choke back his fear and fury. “You can’t come. It’s too—”

“Dangerous? Yes, it sounds that way. Dangerous for Sara and for you, and there is no way on earth that I’m just going to sit in the penthouse while you rush off to face whatever is happening at her place.” She gave a firm nod. “Team, remember? That’s what we are. Now call more of your men and tell them to get their asses over there.”

The elevator doors opened.

Trace got more of his men on the line.

He and Skye rushed through the lobby. Henry hurried to open the door for them. The bright light hit them outside and—

“What’s the rush?” Alex demanded, hands on his hips as he whirled toward them. “Not making a run for it, are you, Weston?”

Before Trace could do more than snarl at the man, Skye told the cop, “His assistant just called. Trace thinks that she’s in danger.”

“Sara?”

Trace ended the call. Tried Sara’s line again. It just kept ringing. “The killer is at her apartment. I know he is. My men are on their way to her place and—”

Alex pointed to his car. “Get your asses in there, and let’s go.”

He didn’t have time to waste, and Trace knew a cop would get them there hell fast.

They got their asses in.

***

“I-I did what you wanted…” Sara’s whole body shook. “Please…let me go.”

Instead, he spun her around to face him. “What the hell was that about your sister?”

Claire. Claire would be alone if anything happened to her. Sara had been desperate when she’d made that plea. She’d promised her parents that she’d always look after her sister…

Trace will take care of Claire.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hold that against you.” He smiled. “Weston is coming. We have to give him something to find, don’t we?”

No, they didn’t. “Let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear, I won’t ever tell them who you are.”

His gaze searched hers. “You know, I think I believe you.” He pulled the knife away from her throat. “I didn’t originally intend to bring you into this, but you were so close to Weston. And I promise, it’s not personal.”

Fucking her hadn’t been personal?

Beneath Sara’s fear, anger boiled. The lamp on the end table was just four feet away. She could lunge for it. Throw it at him. Maybe gain enough time to make it to the bathroom. Then she could lock the door and stay barricaded inside until help came.

She knew Trace would get to her as fast as he could.

“I like you,” he told her, “and you were so useful.”

Her breath heaved out as she understood. She’d been useful because of her access to Trace—and Trace’s office. She was the only person at Weston Securities who had free access to Trace’s inner domain. She’d let him in just days before, when Trace had been out. She’d thought nothing of the encounter until now.

“Passwords, files…” He shrugged. “You gave me everything I needed. Thank you.”

He still had the knife. Sara knew, with utter certainty, he’s not going to let me go.