Mine to Take (Mine #1)(30)
Author: Cynthia Eden

He took her hands in his. “No, I don’t.”

She flinched. “I thought you were better at lying.” Then Skye pulled away from him. “I thought you were much better…”

***

“I only saw Skye…” Reese shifted restlessly in the hospital bed, a bandage taped around the left-side of his head. “I felt like someone whacked me with a baseball bat, but I didn’t see anyone but her.”

Dammit. Trace had been hoping for more. “You didn’t hear anyone?”

“If I had, the ass**le wouldn’t have gotten the drop on me.” Reese exhaled slowly. “Skye went in the studio first. I think she forgot her bag. I can remember her going in…” His fingers clenched around the white sheets. “Then not a damn thing until I woke up in this place.”

Trace put his hand on Reese’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You just rest.”

“You got me out, didn’t you? I heard the doctors talking…”

Trace nodded. “I wasn’t going to leave you to the fire.”

Reese gave him a tired smile. “Does that make three times…or four…that you’ve saved my life?”

“Doesn’t matter. I stopped counting long ago.” He squeezed Reese’s shoulder and slipped away from the bed. “Get some rest, man.”

“Wait…”

Trace glanced back at him.

“I do think…I remember one more thing.” His eyes became slits as he seemed to struggle with the memory. “Your girl, telling me she was sorry…again and again. I swear, I can hear her saying that.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “But that doesn’t make any damn sense. Probably just the drugs they gave me.”

“Probably,” Trace murmured. “I’ll check back on you soon.”

Trace shut the door behind him.

Skye caught sight of him, and she hurried toward him. “Was Reese awake? Did you talk to him?”

He’d gone in alone because he’d wanted to gauge Reese’s responses for himself. He’d also thought Reese might speak a little more freely if they were alone.

I remember one more thing. Your girl, telling me she was sorry…again and again.

“Did he remember anyone else being there?”

Trace shook his head.

Her face fell.

He had to ask her. “Baby, during the fire, did you tell Reese that you were sorry?”

Her fingers twisted her purse strap. “Yes.”

Fuck. “Why?”

Her gaze flashed up to meet his. Anger lit her green eyes. “Because I wasn’t strong enough to get him out of the fire! Because I was using every bit of my strength, and I couldn’t get him out of there!” Her voice rose, catching the attention of two nearby nurses. “Because no matter what I did, I couldn’t get him out of the door, and I was sure that we were both going to die in those flames.”

He stepped toward her.

She jerked back. “But that’s not what you thought, is it?” All of the heat left her voice. “I’m not crazy and you—” Sadness tightened her face. “You don’t trust me.”

“Yes, I f**king do.”

But she’d already rushed toward the elevator. Swearing he ran after her. He threw out his hand, grabbing the doors before they could close. “I do, baby,” he said again.

“This time, I’m the one who doesn’t believe you.” Her gaze held his. “How does that feel?”

Like shit.

“I’m going to the studio. I have to—I have to talk with the arson investigator.”

“I’ll come with you.” He started to step into the elevator.

“No.” Her clipped response stopped him.

“Skye…”

Someone else brushed by him. Maneuvered into the elevator.

“I need a break,” Skye said, her voice hoarse, as if she were trying to fight tears. “Send one of your agents with me, but I need a break.”

From you.

He forced himself to step back.

He held her gaze until the elevator closed.

Then Trace pulled out his phone. In less than five seconds, he had an agent ready to go. “Be her damn shadow,” he ordered. “She doesn’t take a step without your eyes on her.”

She might want her space from him, but he wasn’t about to risk her life.

Chapter Eight

It was gone. Her second chance had turned to ash.

Skye stared at the charred remains of her studio. There was nothing she could salvage there. Everything was just…gone. Destroyed by the flames.

She’d already called her students. Skye had tried to reassure them that she would find another space.

She hadn’t mentioned that she didn’t have the money to rent another building.

“Are you all right?”

She glanced to the left. As soon as she’d arrived at the scene, she’d realized that Alex Griffin was there, waiting on her. He’d come straight toward her.

He watched her with a guarded expression that made her tense. “Please don’t ask me if I’m about to have a breakdown.” Because that was the way he was staring at her. As if she’d just shatter apart. “I promise, I’m much stronger than I look.” The female cop, Carol—the one who’d given Skye a ride home the previous night—stood a few feet behind Alex.

And Skye’s newest watchdog from Weston Securities, a guy named Adam Longtree, waited about ten steps to Skye’s right. She’d quickly discovered that Adam was the strong and pretty much utterly silent type.

“I’m sorry about your studio,” Alex said as he inclined his head toward her. “But I didn’t think you were about to breakdown. I figured if you were, well, you would’ve done that last night.”

She squared her shoulders. “Then you make one person…”

“Pardon?”

Skye blew out a hard breath. She was so seeing her dreams covered by black and gray ash. “You make one person who doesn’t think I’m on the edge of some major meltdown.”

His eyes had narrowed. “Did you do like I asked? Did you think about Weston—”

She had to laugh. “Trace isn’t doing this to me. Hell, he thinks I’m doing it to myself.” Her arms felt chilled so she roughly rubbed them. “Trace, the cop up in New York, Loxley—”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex cut in, “I don’t know who the hell Loxley is, but you should know that I did some more talking with Detective Fuller first thing this morning.”