Why indeed? Her death would be such a waste. There were so many things Saxon could imagine doing with her delectable body.
“You’re lucky we had eyes on The Blade,” Victor told her with a slow nod. “We saw you being hauled in the back and I was able to send in a…rescue team.”
Her gaze was on Saxon once more.
He grinned. “That would be me.”
“You…you…FBI?” She sure seemed to be having trouble processing that bit of information. So maybe he looked a little rough around the edges. He worked undercover assignments for a reason. Because he fit so well in the darker parts of the world.
“We need names from you.” Victor started to pace around the small room. There wasn’t much furniture in the place. An old desk—one with its right front leg propped up on a book. A faded chair. A big bed. Nothing else. “Give us some suspects to run with here, Ms. Ward.”
“I don’t have suspects!” Her bare toes curled into the dark brown rug. “You know more than I do. I mean…how did you even know my name?”
“I ran your picture through our database.” Victor waved that away. “Crimes like this are either personal or professional. I already know that you work as a Public Relations specialist for a firm here in Miami. Have you ruffled any feathers? Pissed off any colleagues?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” She pushed back her hair. “I mean, my biggest project has been a fundraiser for the local children’s hospital. That isn’t the type of work that makes someone want to kill me.” Elizabeth retreated another step. Did she even realize she was edging closer to the bed? Saxon doubted it.
“Then maybe it’s personal,” Saxon said, and yeah, he took a step toward her. When he’d been close to her in that alley, when her body had been pressed against his, the scent of sweet honey had teased his nose. So maybe he wanted to catch that scent again.
Or maybe he just wanted to be closer to her.
“Ditch any lovers lately?” Saxon asked her because a woman like her, she’d have plenty of lovers. Men who’d fight like hell to get in her bed. Like I would.
Her eyelids flickered, just a bit. Ah, there it was. Anger pumped through him. “We’ll need that name.”
“He’s not a lover, okay. I may have been…dating someone, but that ended, all right? It ended easily, without any big drama. And certainly without the guy wanting me dead!”
Saxon took another step toward her. She retreated until the back of her legs hit the side of the bed. “A name,” he told her.
“Fine.” Her breath huffed out. “It’s not going to mean anything but—”
“A name.”
“Wesley Locke, okay?”
His gaze shot to Victor. He saw his buddy’s eyes squeeze shut. Keeping all emotion from his voice, Saxon said, “One more time….”
“Wesley Locke. He’s a businessman here in Miami. He owns a few bars and he—he was helping me raise money for my charity.”
The hell he’d been. Wesley Locke was a criminal straight to his core. His bars were just fronts for his drug business. And if the guy had put a hit out on Elizabeth, then she’d probably seen something that the woman hadn’t been meant to see.
So her hit had been both personal…and professional. The worst of both worlds.
“You’ll need to stay here with her,” Victor said to Saxon, voice low. “Until I can figure out what the hell is going on, I have to make sure she stays safe.”
Hell. He’d been afraid Victor would say something like that. “Twenty-four hours,” Saxon gritted out. Because he had plans, too. And Victor wasn’t about to drag him back into the business again. “And then I’m done. Out. You know that.”
Victor closed the distance between them and slapped his hand on Saxon’s shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy.”
Saxon’s eyes narrowed.
“Uh, excuse me?”
They both turned to look at Elizabeth.
“I am not staying here. I have a home. A home I worked hard to get. I have a job waiting. I’m not just vanishing for the night!”
Civilians could always be so hard to handle. “I don’t remember hearing that you had a choice in the matter,” Saxon told her. “Vic, did you give the lady a choice?”
“Saxon…” A warning edge had entered Victor’s voice. That was Victor—always the careful one. Not wanting to frighten folks when terror could be a very useful tool.
“Here’s the thing,” Saxon said as he turned to look at Elizabeth once more. “Your ex…he’s trouble. Big damn trouble. And if Locke put a hit on you, just what do you think the guy is going to do when he realizes that hit wasn’t successful?”
But she stubbornly shook her head. “Wesley wouldn’t do that. You don’t know him.”
And she was blind. Put a guy in a fancy suit, give him enough cash to toss around, and no one ever suspected who the guy was beneath the surface. In my next life…no one will suspect me, either. No one will see my darkness. “I know him,” he said grimly. “And if you walk out of that door now…” He pointed to the door of motel room number thirteen. “Then you’re a dead woman.”
She didn’t move.
“Ms. Ward…” Ah, Victor was trying to calm the waters. “It’s just for twenty-four hours. Just long enough for my men to bring Kurt Taggert into custody. He’ll point the finger at the man who hired him, and we will take the next step then.”
She didn’t look reassured. “The next step…that will be me going home?”
“Your safety will be our highest priority.”
Did she notice that Victor didn’t answer her question? Probably not. The guy could be a slick bastard.
“You had a gun to your head less than an hour ago,” Saxon reminded her bluntly. “You really want to run away from the only guys offering you protection right now?”
She licked her lips. The sensual swipe of her pink tongue had his body tensing. She didn’t need to do stuff like that, especially not when he was riding the hard edge that came from ending a mission. Adrenaline pumped in his blood, and he couldn’t shake the memory of her sweet, hot mouth from his mind. The things he wanted to do with that little pink tongue of hers…