Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(25)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Skye!”

Reese’s voice thundered behind her.

“Ah, so there’s the guard. A bit late, isn’t he?” Drake shook his head. The sunlight gleamed off his hair. “I mean, if I’d wanted, I could’ve killed you by now.”

This guy terrified her.

“Archer.” Fury burned in Reese’s voice. “You get away from her.”

Drake tossed a smile Reese’s way. “While you were sleeping on the job, I was keeping our girl safe. Just like the good old days, right?” He turned away.

Oh, hell, no.

Skye grabbed his arm. “Just which good old days are you talking about?” Ice had encased her skin, and she made herself say, “Back in New York?”

He nodded.

The ice grew thicker.

Reese swore.

“When I was dancing…” Skye continued. “You were sent to watch me then?”

Another slow nod. “You were important. Guess you could say that Trace has always had a bit of an obsession…”

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.

“We should go back,” Reese said. He was trying to pull Skye away from Drake.

She wasn’t in the mood to be pulled. “How long did you watch me?”

His eyes heated. “Until old Trace felt like I might be getting too attached.”

This wasn’t happening.

“I’m guessing he pulled off all the guards—that must’ve been when you were hurt in that crash. Bet that drives him crazy. If he’d just kept the crew in place—”

She spun away from him. “Taxi!” Skye yelled.

Reese tried to block her path. “Skye, just slow down. Listen—”

But she’d already heard plenty.

A taxi braked in front of her. She jumped in the back. “Take me to Weston Securities. Now.” Because she had to see Trace.

And she had to stare into his eyes.

How long has he been lying to me?

The ice around her thickened.

The taxi roared away from the curb.

***

Trace’s phone rang again. Only this time, it was his personal cell. Not the desk phone.

He picked it up. “Weston.”

“Trouble, boss, big damn trouble.” Reese’s voice was shaking.

Trace surged to his feet. “Skye? Is she all right? Is she—”

“She’s coming in hot, boss. Hot and pissed. Drake Archer was here. He got to her. Told her about his time in New York.”

Trace squeezed his eyes closed. A frantic pounding began behind his temples.

“She knows.”

“How long did they talk?” Trace gritted out the question.

“Just a few minutes.”

Too long, but surely not long enough for Drake to reveal everything? “Where is he now?” The last thing he needed was for that guy to be loose in the city.

“He took off, jumped on a motorcycle and got the hell out of here.”

But Trace would be seeing him again. He was sure of it. “Make sure her studio is secure, then cut out for the night. I’ll take care of Skye.” He hoped. Trace dropped the phone onto the desk.

“Problem?” Noah asked him.

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem.” He was surprised that his voice came out sounding so calm. He stalked to the window and stared out at the city. “Your friend Drake just got to Skye. I don’t know how much he told her—”

“Secrets have a way of coming out.”

Trace whirled to face him. “You don’t get it! Skye is my one thing—the only thing—that is any good in my world. Everything else is built on death and blood. She matters. She makes me feel like I matter.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “She’s not just going to desert you, man. The woman loves you.”

“Does she?” And this was the part that tore him up. That made him unable to sleep late at night. “Or does Skye love the guy that she remembers? The one who actually saved her when we were kids?”

He turned back to stare out at the city. Once, he’d been down in the streets. Penniless, desperate. His clothes had been torn, his pockets empty. He’d fought his way out of that poverty.

Now he had the world at his feet.

He put his hands on the cold glass.

And I could be about to lose everything.

Chapter Seven

No one got in her way. The suits at Weston Securities took one look at her, and they backed up.

She knew that Trace had probably told them she was coming. By the time the cab turned the corner, Reese would’ve been on the phone with Trace.

Alerting the boss.

“Uh, he’s waiting for you, Ms. Sullivan,” the man to her right said as he indicated the private elevator in the lobby. “You can go right on up.”

Jaw locking, she did. With every floor that she ascended, her heart seemed to race faster.

She didn’t want to believe that man—the stranger on the street. But Reese’s reaction to the guy’s claims had scared her.

I want Drake to be lying.

She wanted anyone to be lying. Anyone, but Trace.

The elevator gave a soft ding. The doors opened.

Noah stood before her.

Noah?

He winced when he saw her. “Maybe you can think about going easy on him?”

Was Noah insane? Were they all?

“Find out his reasons, okay?”

She stalked from the elevator. “Did you watch me, too?”

“Uh, I—”

“Did you watch me?” Her voice rose. “How many guards did I have? How many eyes have been on me?” For how long? She couldn’t suck in a deep enough breath. She couldn’t breathe at all—

“Skye.” Trace’s voice. Quiet. Calm.

He shouldn’t be calm. Not when she felt as if she were about to explode.

“I’ll, um, give you two some privacy.” Noah backed away. “I’ll see if I can find Drake.” He edged away a few more steps then muttered, “Asshole that he is.”

Skye focused on Trace. Sara, Trace’s assistant, wasn’t at her desk, and the woman was usually close. Maybe Trace had ordered her to clear out—the better for Sara not to catch the show that was coming.

Trace lifted a hand toward her. “Come into my office. We can talk.”

She wanted to scream. Instead, Skye walked forward. When he tried to stroke her shoulder, she jerked away from him. An instinctive move. She just couldn’t be touched right then. An explosion was too close to the surface for her.

She’d first walked into this office just weeks before. Back then, she’d been terrified. Desperate. Skye had known she was in danger, and Trace had been her only hope.