JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) by Kristina Weaver

enough.
    Women pack a certain way, whether they’re in a rush or not. From the looks of that bag, a man packed it. Which leads us to the part where there wasn’t one item of jewelry taken from her jewelry box.
    Someone staged this and did such a piss-poor job of it that I’m starting to think it was deliberate.
    “You see it, too?”
    I whirl around and almost go down but for Jared’s steadying hand when Trace walks in, her face a study of frustration and confusion.
    “Tracy?”
    “I’m sorry about what I said, Jace. It was wrong and mean and…not true. I—”
    She doesn’t get another word out because I’m crushing her to my chest while tremors race through my body. This must be what Wyatt felt when he made up his mind to let Ellie go that one time.
    Not that it lasted past like two seconds of selflessness before he changed his mind.
    “I thought you left.”
    She starts shaking against me, and it takes me a beat to realize she’s laughing.
    “It’s my Catholic complex.”
    Huh.
    “Anyway,” she mutters, pushing away to look over the scene and give each brother a chin nod. “This scene was staged. Deliberately and with the intent of leaving clues that only certain people would see. For instance—”
    “The poorly packed suitcase.”
    “And the deliberate track marks in the rug.”
    “No jewelry packed.”
    “And no toiletries or feminine products.”
    “Yea. It was done so well, so…perfectly in its wrongness that I’m guessing it’s a message from that brother of yours. What could he be trying to tell you all?” she asks, looking at it all again with a practiced eye that intrigues me.
    The question and her assumptions fit, so I take another long look around the room and try to look at each piece of wrongness through Roman’s eyes.
    “He stashed, Melissa. That’s what I’m thinking,” Miah suddenly snarls, making us all jump at the fury in his voice.
    “Okay. Why?” Trace asks, focusing on Miah as he paces.
    “He’s in love with the girl and it never sat right with him using her this way. He said once that if he ever needed to get out of a bad situation, he’d make sure his family was safe first and then see to himself.”
    “He stashed her and went all in? But—”
    Suddenly, Tracy is laughing so hard I have to hold her up to keep her from tumbling to the ground. “He’s the Goddamned shooter! Don’t you see? One bullet to the shoulder. You were just unlucky it hit an artery, but still, a bullet to the shoulder and a few more fired haphazardly. No trained sniper makes that many mistakes, guys.”
    She’s right. She has to be.
    “That means he’s in.”
    “No, that means we need to find that fucking group as soon as possible before he gets too deep to get out alive,” Miah barks.
    I agree and I feel as urgently desperate about getting Roman back home as any of them do at this moment. Right now, though, I also feel a wave of euphoria that Trace came back to me, coupled with a very large wave of exhaustion.
    “Come on then, let’s get home. Miah, you need to cam the hell down and come at this thing with fresh eyes after a good night’s sleep. Wyatt, your kid is waiting for you. And you, super soldier, let’s get your weak ass home to bed.”
    I should argue with Jared right now. I hate leaving a man behind. In fact, I never have, not even in the hairiest of situations, but I’m done right now and couldn’t save a kitten if I had to.
    “Come on, Trace. Let’s go home.”
     
     
     
     

Chapter Eight
    Trace
    It wasn’t until I disconnected the call with Jace and actually gave the situation some real thought that I came to a realization. Life is not guaranteed, and love is a gift we should cherish, not throw away without a care.
    I looked at the desperation evident in this perfectly staged scene and tried to imagine what Roman Lane must have felt while setting it up in his need to protect the woman he loves.
    All I could see and feel while trying to understand was Jace,