Mine to Take (Mine #1)(8)
Author: Cynthia Eden

And it seemed the guy wanted to clear the air with him, too. As soon as the door closed behind them, Alex spun toward Trace. “What’s your game?”

He let his brows rise. “I’m not playing a game.”

“Two days ago, Skye told me that she wasn’t involved with anyone. She didn’t have any family in the city, no close friends…” Alex exhaled roughly as he glared at Trace. “Now you’re standing here, saying you’re her ‘old friend’ and taking her home for the night.”

Yes, that was exactly what he was doing. Wasn’t the detective observant? “Skye doesn’t like hospitals. After her accident in New York, I think that’s understandable.” He didn’t like to think about her accident. Didn’t like to remember—

“I’ve heard about you, Weston.”

Good for the detective. “Most people in Chicago know about me…”

“You’ve got money, a freaking ton of it from all accounts.”

Yes, yes, he did. He’d come a long way from being the poor kid on the streets.

“And you’ve got dangerous connections.”

“Safe connections aren’t any fun,” he murmured.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You’re high profile. You take the big cases. You don’t sign on as some woman’s bodyguard.”

If the detective kept pushing, he’d find out just how hard Trace could push back. “This isn’t some woman,” Trace said. Time for his turn to talk. “This is Skye, and, I assure you, where she is concerned, I am very involved.”

“You weren’t two days ago,” Alex fired back.

“Two days ago…” Trace exhaled slowly and fought to chain his anger. “That would have been back when you were patrolling, doing your circles around her place.”

“Yes,” Alex hissed. “I’ve been trying to protect her—”

“And now I’m here to help you do that job.”

“You looked like you were here to f**k her.”

The words were low, hard. Jealous?

Trace stepped toward the detective. The fellow was close to his height, and even though he was a cop, he had a soft look to him that told Trace this man hadn’t seen nearly enough darkness in his life.

I’ve seen plenty.

Enough to appreciate the light that came his way.

Alex pointed his index finger at Trace. Bad move—that’s the way to get that finger broken. “I’ve got a woman being stalked,” Alex snapped, “an attack on her—and suddenly, I have a new guy—wait, sorry, an ‘old friend’—who has just entered the picture. Two days ago, she said that she had no one.”

He kept harping on the two days bit. “She has someone,” Trace told him, keeping his voice flat with a monumental effort. “And until the SOB after her is caught, Skye be staying with me. So if you need to contact her,” he gave him a hard smile, “come find me.”

The door opened behind them. Skye was seated in a wheelchair, and she sure didn’t look happy. “They said I had to go out in this thing.” Her hands lightly hit the wheels. “Some kind of hospital rule.”

“Liability issue,” the doctor said. “I told you, it’s—”

“Standard. Right.” Skye’s hands rose and clenched in her lap. Her frantic gaze locked on Trace. “I need to get out of here.”

“Baby, I’ve got you.”

And he did.

He moved behind the wheelchair. Pushed her carefully. The wheels spun on the chair.

“Skye!”

The detective was a dick, and he’d just snapped Trace’s last nerve. Did the fellow realize that, with just one phone call, Trace could have the guy writing parking tickets? Doing traffic patrol?

Or sitting bench at desk duty?

Alex hurried around them and stopped in front of the wheelchair. “Just how long have you known Weston?”

Skye swallowed. “Since I was fifteen years old.”

Alex leaned toward her. His voice dropped, but Trace heard him clearly as he said, “I asked you to tell me about any ex’s that you might have in town. Someone who might have a hard time letting go…”

Skye shook her head. “Trace never had trouble letting go.”

Alex’s stare swept to his.

He knows.

It was easy to recognize need, lust, in another man’s eyes.

Behind the cop, Trace saw Reese striding down the hallway toward them. Trace inclined his head toward the cop. “Make sure the detective has our contact information, Reese. Skye’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

Her head turned toward him. “But I—”

He pushed her down the hall, leaving Reese to deal with Alex.

The detective could become a problem. Trace would have to watch him, carefully.

Because no one could be allowed to interfere with his plans for Skye.

***

She should have expected the penthouse. The elevator doors opened up, and she stepped out onto the top level of the high-rise. Trace was right at her side.

“No one can get up here without passing my guards,” he told her as his fingers curled around her elbow.

Right then, she was sure glad to hear about that security.

They entered the penthouse. Her gaze swept around the place. Everything looked expensive. Everything smelled expensive.

And the view was killer.

If she hadn’t been scared to death, literally shaking apart on the inside, she would have appreciated that view more right then.

As it was, she just wanted to go someplace and collapse.

The door shut behind them. She heard the sound of the alarm engaging. Then…Trace’s hands slid down her arms. Her bare arms because all she’d had to wear out of that hospital were her workout clothes. “You’re safe, Skye.” His words whispered into her ear.

And the fear deepened. Because she remembered him. The man in the dark. His mouth at her ear. His whisper.

I will be the one.

She pulled away from Trace and headed toward the big, floor to ceiling window that looked out over Chicago.

He didn’t follow her.

His voice did. Trace told her, “I’m having a top-of-the-line security system installed at your studio. And a damn electrician is going in to check your lights.”

She rubbed her arms. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to shake the chill from her body. Her gaze stared out at the city. It seemed like she could see forever from this vantage.

“You don’t have to drop your life for me,” she made herself speak when she just wanted to stand in silence. “I’m sure having me here…in your home…it’s going to cramp your style.” She’d read the papers. She knew all about his many, many exploits.