Mine to Have (Mine 5)

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!”