“Help!” Parker cried suddenly. “This man just broke into my apartment, he attacked me! Help!”
Sonofabitch. But did Parker really think he wasn’t prepared for this situation? He’d known it was possible that the message he’d left actually would get to Alex.
I just didn’t count on Skye being here.
Trace stepped back. His control was in place. Holding steady. “I came here to talk with Parker. H-he jumped me right after I knocked at his door.” Trace rolled his shoulders, wincing a bit as if he were in pain. “I had no choice but to defend myself.”
“No!” Parker screamed. “That’s not what fuckin’ happened!”
“Of course,” Trace murmured, “Now that you’re here, Alex, I’ll step back.”
“He attacked me!” Then Parker leapt at Trace.
Trace took the punch. Because he knew the game.
“Stop! Step back!” Alex’s cry.
Then the cop was between them, shoving Parker away.
Alex had his weapon out and it was locked right on Parker. Go ahead. Pull that trigger, Alex. Do us all a favor.
But Alex was showing no signs that he’d be ending Parker’s life.
Unfortunately.
Skye wrapped her arms around Trace and pulled him back beside her. “You said you’d let the authorities deal with him.”
Why was she here?
“And you said you were going home,” Trace told her, his voice grim. “I suppose that means we both lied.”
She dropped her hold.
“Why the hell are you all here?” Parker demanded. “Griffin, get them out! Wait, arrest him for assault!”
“Parker…” Alex sighed his name. “Do you know anything about the hit-and-run on Mayer Boulevard last night?”
Parker shook his head, but his eyelids flickered.
“Are you sure? Because the driver of a blue BMW got cut at the scene of that accident. His blood is in the car. That means we have his DNA.”
Parker blanched.
“It was you,” Skye said. “You came after us.”
“Because you kept sending the cops after me!” This time, Parker lunged for her.
The hell he did.
Trace drew back his fist, more than ready to break Parker’s nose again and do a whole lot more.
But Alex caught Parker in a steely grip. He spun the guy around. Slammed him into a wall, and cuffed him.
“Parker Jacobs,” Alex stated, voice biting, “you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”
“No!” Parker howled. “It should be him! Not me! Trace attacked me!”
Alex kept right on going, reading the struggling Parker his rights even as Parker shouted.
Then Alex hefted Parker around and marched him toward the door. “It’s not over,” Parker growled as his gaze darted from Trace to Skye. “Not even close.”
Trace leaned toward him. “For you, it’s over.” His words were a promise.
But Parker laughed. “You won’t see him coming. I told him. Told him everything. And you won’t be able to stop him!”
“Move,” Alex barked.
“He’ll take what you value most—and then he’ll destroy you!” Parker was still laughing.
Skye shivered and followed Alex into the hallway.
Trace glanced around Parker’s apartment. The place was a mess. It was—
A glinting object caught his eye.
Trace bent over the couch, and snatched up the object.
Small, rectangular.
A military issued dog-tag.
His fingers smoothed over the ID.
His ID.
“Weston, get out of there!” Alex called.
Trace pocketed the dog-tag. The last time he’d seen that dog-tag, he’d been fighting for his life.
He’d survived the battle.
His best friend hadn’t.
Or at least that was what I thought.
Chapter Eight
The penthouse was silent when Trace opened the door.
Skye was there, he knew she waited inside, but no sound alerted him to her presence.
He dropped his briefcase to the floor. “Skye?” He was ready for the fireworks that he was sure would be coming.
“I’m here.”
His gaze slid toward the floor to ceiling window on the right. She stood in front of the glass, staring back at him. She was dressed in jeans and a tight t-shirt. Her hair was swept back, accentuating the high cut of her cheekbones. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup, and she looked so incredibly lovely.