“I told Skye I would call the authorities. I did. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my own share of questions for Parker.”
“So just what did you do to this guy?” Drake asked. “Did you work your usual charm? Did that piss him off enough to make the fellow want to take you out?”
Drake was still his charming asshole self. “I caught him trying to rape Skye, and I beat the shit out of him.”
Noah rocked back on his heels. “That would do it…”
“Now, if you will both excuse me, I need to make sure that Parker stays the hell out of my life.”
He strode to the door.
“By any means necessary?”
Drake’s question didn’t stop Trace.
“That is your way, isn’t it? Our way,” Drake added.
When it came to Parker Jacobs, it was the only way.
Don’t think of Skye. Don’t think of the pain in her eyes. Don’t focus on that now. His fingers tightened around the doorknob. He owed Drake for what he’d done with his shit-for-timing revelations to Skye, but now wasn’t the time to repay that debt. He had to handle one SOB at a time.
When Skye had walked out of that elevator, all Trace had wanted to do was take her into his arms. To try and make her understand.
But Trace wasn’t sure there was any understanding. He’d put guards on her. Kept secrets.
I’m still keeping them.
“Skye isn’t going to like this,” Noah said quietly as he came toward the door. “Not when she finds out.”
“If Parker is trying to hurt her, I have to stop him.” They didn’t get it. Noah and Drake had never cared about anyone the way he did for Skye. They didn’t have the connection. The need.
The vulnerability.
They fucked their women, and then they walked away.
No emotions. No weaknesses.
He couldn’t live that way.
“Now, gentlemen, get the hell out of my office.” Because I have an old enemy to hunt down.
***
There was no sign of any cops at Parker’s apartment. Good. Trace lifted his hand and slammed his fist into the door.
He heard a muffled curse from inside. The shuffle of footsteps headed toward him, then the door opened, just a few inches. “What the hell—” Parker’s muddy brown eyes widened. “You!” He tried to shove the door closed.
Trace shoved right back. Wood splintered and Parker stumbled away.
“Y-you can’t be here!” Parker yelled at him. “Get out of my place!”
“Ah, I see you remember me.” Trace said as he straightened his coat. “And I definitely remember you, Parker.”
Parker gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Wh-what do you want?”
“To know why you tried to kill me last night.”
Parker shook his head, a frantic gesture. “I didn’t! I swear!”
“Now, you see…” Trace stepped toward him. “I don’t exactly believe that. You and the truth don’t have the best history together.”
Parker spun away and grabbed a baseball bat that had been propped up against the wall. He swung it at Trace.
Trace ducked, then he drove his fist right into Parker’s ribs. All of the breath left Parker with a whoosh of sound. The bat dropped from his limp fingers.
Trace punched him again. Again.
Parker fell to the floor. “Y-you’re gonna get my blood on your fancy suit…”
“Like I give a damn,” Trace muttered. He grabbed Parker’s shirt and hefted the guy up. “You’ve been watching Skye.”
Parker spat at him.
Wrong move.
Trace drove his fist into the man’s face. Parker howled at the impact.
“Right, I can break that nose again. I can do it in an instant. So start talking. Why were you following Skye?”
“Because he-he made me realize how much the two of you had messed up my life!”
“He?” Trace caught immediately on that point.
“He made me realize…it’s all screwed because of you. You and your rich ass!” Parker smiled at him. “But I’ll get mine, and I’m about to get it right now…”
“You’re not going to get any damned thing,” Trace promised him. “Nothing, do you hear—”
“Weston! Let him go, now!”
Parker’s smile widened.
The authoritative shout had come from behind Trace. It was a voice that Trace easily recognized. Detective Alex Griffin’s voice.
Hell. I left the door open. He’d shoved his way inside and had left the door ajar behind him. He’d been busy with other things, like getting the truth from Parker, and he’d made an amateur mistake.
But it will be my only mistake.
“Trace,” a softer cry sounded then. Feminine. “What are you doing?”
Skye.
No, she couldn’t be there.