“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 f**k, he f**ked. 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.