But she’d come to him. They’d danced too much and drank too damn much in a godforsaken bar in Russia.

They’d fucked in that same bar.

When the booze had cleared from his head, Drake had hated himself for what he’d done. He’d wanted to tell Tucker about his mistake.

But Anna Jean had said that Tucker would never forgive. Or forget.

“Drake…”

He turned at the faint call. He could just see the outline of a person, walking toward him. He squinted, trying to see better in the storm.

“Drake.”

A woman’s voice. Drifting to him. He took a step toward her, focusing completely on her now.

So when the blow came from behind, he didn’t have time to defend himself.

Something heavy and hard slammed into the back of his head. Then Drake felt himself flying to the side, and he crashed right into the icy water.

***

“Did I hurt you?” Trace stared down at Skye as a fist seemed to squeeze his heart. His body still shuddered with aftershocks of the most powerful release he’d ever had.

He’d gone damn blind there for a moment. He’d only been able to feel—her.

Her head tilted back against the wall, and she smiled at him. A slow, sensual smile that pierced straight through him. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

He’d been too rough. Too controlling, too—

“If so, then I think you should work real hard to scare me again. You know, every night or so.”

The tightness around his heart eased. He lifted her into his arms. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and he carried her to the bathroom.

Trace sat her on the granite countertop. Carefully, he cleaned off the signs of their love-making from her body. And when he looked up, he found Skye staring straight at him.

“Every lover that I’ve ever had…he’s been you in the dark.” Her voice was soft and sensual.

Always tempting me.

He tossed aside the cloth. Trace put his hands on either side of her body. He didn’t touch her, not then. Try to go five seconds without touching her. “No other lover could ever compare to you.” After he’d had sex with them, he couldn’t get away from the other women fast enough. Because they weren’t Skye.

And he’d felt guilty, so damn guilty, for being with them.

Even when Skye had been a world away.

“I never asked you for a list of lovers,” Skye said.

That gave him pause. He’d asked for a list of her lovers, back when he’d been trying to figure out who was stalking her. He’d also been tempted to destroy every man on her list.

“I don’t want to know about them,” Skye said. “Because then I’ll just have people to hate.”

His breath burned in his lungs. “You’re it for me. There can’t be anyone else, not after what we’ve had.”

Her smile grew then and lit her eyes. She leaned toward him. Her lips pressed against his ear. “Good,” Skye whispered, “because I’d hate to hurt a bitch.”

Her words surprised him so much—coming from his delicate Skye—not so delicate—that Trace laughed.

Skye didn’t laugh. She kept gazing up into his eyes. “Oh, Trace,” Skye said softly. “When are you ever going to realize the truth? You don’t love me because you want to protect me. You love because you realize that, deep down, we’re very much alike.”

His laughter slowly faded.

His Skye.

If another man tried to come near her…

I’d destroy the bastard.

“Yes,” Trace whispered, “we are.” Then he kissed her once more.

***

Drake broke through the surface of the waves, his breath heaving out. He’d barely avoided slamming into the dock on his way into the blackness of the water.

“Over here!” A woman’s voice shouted.

Her?

Someone was crouched at the edge of the pier. When lightning flashed, he could see the outline of a person’s body.

He grabbed for the dock. Caught the wooden ladder that would get him out of the water.

Something dripped into his eyes. Water? Or blood?

Her hand reached for him. “Let me help you!”

He grabbed her and yanked her into the water with him.

She screamed. Hell, yes, it’s your turn to scream.

She also…sank?

The woman disappeared beneath the waves. Swearing, Drake dove after her. He caught her hair, long, spider-web like tendrils that drifted in the water, and he reached lower, grabbing for her.

They broke the surface together. She was gasping and shuddering and clinging to him as desperately as she could.

“Anna Jean?” Drake demanded. No, that wasn’t right. Anna Jean could swim for miles. She’d gone swimming with sharks for fuck’s sake. Anna Jean had no fear. Anna Jean—

The woman was about to choke him with her death-grip on his neck. “M-my…s-sister…”

He dragged her toward the dock. Hauled her up. Dropped her like a sack of potatoes.

She pushed up to her knees. “Y-you aren’t what I thought…”

He still couldn’t see her face. There just wasn’t enough light. Rain pelted down on them, hitting like hard spikes against his skin.

But…her voice was wrong. Too soft and husky, and tinged with the faintest of accents.

“Who the hell are you?”

She shoved wet hair out of her face. “I’m Piper, and I…I believe you knew my sister, Anna Jean.”

Believe? What the hell kind of game was this? “Where’s your partner?”

“I-I don’t have a partner.”

“Sure you do.” And Drake yanked out his weapon. The gun had been soaked, but there was a fifty-fifty chance it would still fire at least one bullet. “The jerk who hit me and threw me in the water. Now tell me…where the hell is he?”

She shook her head.

“Fine, I figure that answer means we get to do things the hard way.” He grabbed her and put the gun to her throat.

She screamed.

***

Trace answered his phone, stopping the peeling rings. “What the hell is it?” At this time of night, it had better be important.

“I’ve got her,” Drake’s growling voice said. “Get to your dancer’s studio. I’m heading there now.”

The line ended.

What. The. Hell?

Chapter Fourteen

“He’s insane!” The woman screamed the instant she saw Trace and Skye. “He has a gun!”

Trace shoved open the door to Skye’s studio. He made sure she got inside first, then he turned to confront Drake. “Have you lost what little sanity you had?”

“No, I found it…when I found her.”

Drake pushed the woman inside.

Trace made certain that he secured the lock behind them all.

Skye hit the lights, and the illumination flooded down on them, giving Trace his first good look at the woman.

This just keeps getting worse.

The woman—a drenched redhead with flashing green eyes—was as pale as death. Her high cheeks gave her a hallowed out, frightened look—or maybe that look just came from the absolute terror that was reflected in her eyes.

“H-he tried to drown me,” she whispered. “Then he put his g-gun to my—”

Drake shoved the gun into his waistband. “I found her at Navy Pier. Right before some asshole slammed a board into the back of my head and dumped me in the water. Now she won’t tell me who her partner is, but the lady did confess to one thing. According to her, she’s Anna Jean’s sister.”

Trace studied the woman’s face. “Yes, I can see the resemblance.” The eyes weren’t the same shade of green, and her hair was the wrong color. Anna Jean’s face had been more classically beautiful. Cold perfection—that was what he’d thought of when he saw Anna Jean.

“What in the hell is happening down here?” A snarling voice demanded. Then footsteps thudded down from the upstairs apartment.

And Noah appeared.

Noah?

Claire was right behind him, peering nervously over his shoulder.

Noah’s gaze darted over to Drake and then that golden stare narrowed when he saw Drake’s guest. “You.” He lunged toward the woman. “Anna Jean.”

“No!” The woman cried out as she tried to back away from him, and she thudded into Drake. “I’m not. My name’s Piper! I-I’m her half-sister.”

Noah’s doubting gaze swept over her. “Nice trick. Got some collagen in your lower lip. A nose job. Died your hair.” He peered at her. “And I’d wager those are contacts, just to make your eyes look a little different, right?”

“No!”

“Bullshit. I saw you walk away today. I know that walk. I know you. You always were a good actress, Anna Jean. Too good.”

Her frantic green stare flew around the room and locked on Skye. “Help me,” she begged. “This isn’t why I came here. I-I needed to talk with you.”

“So talk,” Trace invited.

Skye edged around him. “Talk to me.”

The woman’s chest shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder at Drake, then her terrified stare came back to Skye. “Y-you’re in danger,” she said. “I-I had to tell you. You needed to be warned.”

Trace stiffened. “Did you just threaten her?”

“No, Trace,” it was Skye who answered, her voice calm, “she didn’t.”

The woman—Piper or Anna Jean or whoever the hell she was—told Skye, “You have to get away from him.”

Skye glanced back at Trace.

“He’s a killer,” the woman threw out, breath heaving.

Skye already knew that.

“He…he was my sister’s lover. He killed Anna Jean, and I’m afraid he will kill you, too.”

The hell, no.

***

All of the players were assembled. They’d gathered. Drawn in close.

Now it was time for the chaos.

Time for vengeance.

They were all to blame, so they would all suffer.

In the end, no one would be left.

I will win.

Trace Weston—oh, he would lose everything.

The bodies would start falling now. If they’d thought the blood ran heavily on the streets before…

It’s nothing compared to what I am about to do.

***

“Hell.” Noah sounded stunned. “You screwed her, too, Trace?”

Skye kept her eyes on the woman called Piper. “You’re lying.”

Piper shook her head. “No, I’m not! My sister was in a hospital, some hole-in-the-wall in the middle of Russia. I barely got to her in time. She was dying. He’d stabbed her and left her for dead—”

“I stabbed her,” Drake said, his voice thick.

The woman stiffened. “Y-you?”

Skye watched as shock seemed to flare in the woman’s eyes.

“I stabbed her, and I’m the one who left her for dead.” He flashed her a hard smile. “And you know what? I’m the one who fucked her, too. So if you’re looking for someone to blame for all that…look right here.”

She slapped him. A hard, vicious hit that seemed to echo across the room.

Then the woman fell to her knees. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. Shuddered. “I-I found the dog tags. She had them. She told me…” Her head lifted. Her face was a mask of confusion and rage. “Trace. He was the one. He killed her. He screwed my sister and he left her to die.” Tears leaked from her eyes as she looked once more at Skye. “And he’ll do the same to you! He’s a killer! A killer!”

Skye shook her head. “No.”

“It was me,” Drake said again. “Me.”

Claire tried to ease past Noah. He caught her arm and pushed her right back behind his body. “Don’t get close to Anna Jean. She’s a viper.”

“I’m not Anna Jean!” The woman yelled. “Anna Jean died in a Siberian hospital. She lost her fingers and her toes to hypothermia. She struggled to live—for days and days, but the fluids built up around her heart. Or, around what was left of it. She died, broken and in agony.” Now her gaze swung wildly around the room. “I-I thought it was just Weston, but it was all of you. All of you!”

Then she whirled around and grabbed at Drake. No, not at him. Her fingers latched onto the gun he’d tucked into his waistband. She yanked the weapon up.

Drake’s fingers locked around her wrist. “Let go.”

Trace flew across the room.

Skye didn’t move. Her eyes were on the scene before her. Piper seemed so broken.

She came to warn me?

Piper let go of the gun. She whirled back toward Trace. “Y-you were going to do the same thing to Skye. I saw in the papers…you were with her. You were going to kill her, too.”

“You’re wrong,” Trace said, his voice flat.

Piper flinched. “I wanted to help. I came all this way…to help…” Her shoulders sagged.

Skye’s eyes narrowed on her. “If you thought Trace killed your sister, why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Anna Jean died. Sh-she could barely remember what had happened to her. When she could talk, she told me that it was all white…snow and hell. A white hell, and that was all she could say.” Piper drew in a shuddering breath. “But she had Trace’s dog tags. She had them.”

“And now they’re in the city.” Trace tilted his head to the left. “Want to tell me how that happened? Who’d you give the dog tags to, Piper?”