A furrow appeared between Alex’s brows. “Why the hell would anyone want to do that? We’re talking about murder here. Two murders.”
“Because he has enemies,” Skye said. “And some men will go to anything in order to get their vengeance.”
The other uniform appeared then. It looked as if the guy had collected every single knife that Trace owned. Seriously? Did Alex truly think he could be such an amateur that he’d kill with his own knives? And Trace had already taken the liberty of ditching the knives he’d taken from Ben.
“I don’t believe you would’ve sent a flunky after Parker,” Alex said, giving a sharp nod to the uniforms. The two men—and the techs—headed for the elevator. John rushed forward to use his keycard for them. “I think, for a job this personal, you wouldn’t mind getting your hands dirty.” Alex’s eyes were narrow slits of suspicion. “That dirt is gonna come back and bite you in the ass. Our lab techs are going to scan all the evidence we’ve got…”
He followed the others.
Skye laced her fingers with Trace. “You’ve got nothing,” she called out.
She sounded so confident.
The elevator doors closed and their uninvited guests were gone.
“Nothing,” Skye whispered as she pushed her hand into the loose pocket on her top. When her fingers came back out, she was holding the dog tags.
And one of those tags would have definitely tested positive for Parker’s blood.
“I took a minute to pick these up as soon as I saw who our guests were.”
Protecting him. Covering for him.
He took the tags from her. It was time he made them vanish. Then Trace cupped her chin in his hands and leaned toward her. “I’ll make this end.”
“No.” Skye was adamant. “We will. We’re in this together, Trace.”
Together.
Because death wasn’t about to part them.
***
When she heard the knock, Sara Kramer hurriedly opened her apartment door. Her lover waited in the hallway, and Sara threw her body against his. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Because she’d been afraid, for hours.
Trace would know that she’d talked to the cops. What would he do?
Fire her, no doubt. But what else? He’d helped her before, when she’d been desperate, and turning on him now seemed so wrong.
“Shh. Easy, my love.” His hands were so gentle on her. He was always gentle. “I told you that I’d take care of you.”
She pressed her face against the front of his shirt. “I don’t think I should’ve talked. I-I don’t know Trace did this and—”
His hand slid between them. He tipped back her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You did the right thing.”
Her heart finally stopped racing. Sara pulled back from him. “Come inside.” She wanted him to stay with her. No, after everything that had happened, she needed him.
He shut the door. Locked it.
Sara dropped her robe. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. The robe pooled at her feet. She gave him a smile. “Why don’t you try to make me forget why I was so afraid?”
He’d been the one to convince her that she couldn’t protect her boss. Trace had lied. A man was dead.
She didn’t know Parker Jacobs. She’d never seen him in her life, not until Detective Griffin had shown her photos of the dead man.
The photos had brought back too many dark memories for Sara.
So much blood.
She’d been afraid. If Trace was a killer, if he’d done that…then I didn’t have a choice.
She took a step toward her lover. She’d kept on her heels, for him. He liked her in heels and nothing else. “Please make me forget,” she said, and Sara hated that a pleading note had entered her voice. She’d meant to sound seductive.
He bent toward his boots. Lifted up the left leg of his pants.
Sara frowned. What was he—
A knife was strapped to his ankle.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he rose, that knife gripped easily in his hand. “Soon you won’t need to forget anything.”
No, no. This was not happening.
“Y-you can’t be serious.” Her voice shook. Her whole bodyshook. “Is this some kind of game? Because I don’t like it.” Not with her past.
“I’m very serious.” The blade gleamed. He stepped toward her. “You’ve worked with Trace for several years now. You’ve been his confidant.”
She grabbed the robe. Yanked it over her shoulders. Her gaze flew around the room. She had to find a weapon. Had to run.
“So I think you should be the one to call Trace. Who knows…maybe he’ll even get here in time to save you.”
She was crying. The tears had leaked from her eyes and fallen down her cheeks. That terrible image of the dead man—his slashed throat, his bloody chest—flashed through her mind once more. “It was you.” Why?
“Sometimes you think you know someone.” He looked down at the knife. “But you only know what that person shows you. The deepest, darkest parts of ourselves are always hidden.”
She spun to run.
Sara made it two feet when he grabbed her. He yanked her head back, gripping her hair tightly, and he put the knife to her throat.
Sara whimpered.
“Listen carefully,” he whispered into her ear. “Because I need you to relay a very specific message for me.”
***
The cops had tossed his place, and they sure appeared to have enjoyed the job.
Someone’s ass is going to get burned because of this.
“Are they supposed to leave it wrecked like this?” Skye asked as she bent to grab some fallen couch pillows.
“No,” Trace growled. “They’re not.” Alex was playing out of his league, and the detective was about to get slapped back into his normal game position. He reached for his phone.
It rang, vibrating as it gave a quick peal of sound. Trace glanced at the flat surface of the phone’s screen and saw Sara Kramer’s face. Frowning, he answered, “Sara? What’s going on?”
At first, he only heard silence. Then…
A gasp?
“Sara?”
Skye glanced up at the sharp bite in his voice.
“You n-need to know…” Sara said quietly.
“What is it? Sara, are you okay?”
“You n-need to know what it feels like…” Sara was whispering. And crying?
“Sara, are you alone?” Because he was afraid that she wasn’t.