Mine to Keep (12 page)

In that instant, the sunlight that poured down on her seemed hotter.

Skye still had her grip on the pepper spray.

“Caucasian male, late twenties, a nose that looked like someone broke the hell out of it, blond hair—hair in need of a serious cut, and brown eyes.  He was about six foot two, and as thin as he was long.”

Her breath came a little faster. “Seems you did get plenty of time to study him.”

“Plenty of time,” he agreed. “Seeing as how he was outside of your place for the last hour.”

Her gaze darted back across the street.  “Just how long were
you
outside of my place?” Her stare returned to him.

He shrugged. “Long enough. Trace is slacking. He needs to be more careful.”

She could only shake her head and back away. Her stomach had clenched with fear. “Look, Mister—”

“I told you, my name’s Drake Archer.”

“And that name means nothing to me, okay?”

Now he blinked. “Trace didn’t mention me?  And to think, the guy was once my friend. But I guess the friends you make in battle and blood don’t always want to claim you later.”

Skye stopped her retreat. “You served with Trace?”

“Trace. Noah. Ben.”  He gave a little salute. “Once we were unstoppable.” He took a slow, gliding step toward her. “We were really damn good at killing. Too good. But from that little group of ours, I have to confess, your lover was the best. No one could be quite so efficient when it came to killing.”

“
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. 

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. 

The door shut softly behind her, with the faintest of clicks.  She stood in front of Trace’s desk and braced her hands on the surface.  Part of her didn’t want to know the truth.  Part of her wanted to pretend everything was okay.

But hiding does no good.

She straightened her shoulders and turned around to face him.  “I met Drake Archer today.”

Trace gazed back at her. His blue eyes were unreadable.

“He told me…he said that he’d been one of my guards, back when I was in New York.” She shook her head.
“Tell
me he’s wrong.”  Did it sound like she was begging? Skye was very afraid that it did.

Because she was begging, and it felt as if her heart was breaking.

But Trace didn’t tell her anything. He just kept looking back at her.

“
Trace
.”

“For a time, Drake did watch you.”

No, no, no.
“Why?”

“Because I wanted to keep you safe.” The words were said softly, but she saw his hands clench into fists. 

“You didn’t even talk to me for ten years! You left me, you joined the military. You vanished from my life, until I came looking for you—”

“That’s not true. You already know I came to see you dance in New York.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I could never stay away from you.”

She whirled away. Her movements were jerky as she headed toward the massive window on the right side of his desk.

His desk.
She looked down and saw the framed photograph there. The only photograph.

One of her. Smiling.

He’d taken that while they were in the Keys. 

Pain rose and threatened to choke her.  “How long did Drake Archer watch me?”

“Three months.”

Her eyes closed. “Then you sent someone else, right? You kept sending someone, to watch—” Skye broke off.  She started to laugh then, but the sound was brittle. “Oh, dear God, that’s why you looked so shocked when I came to your office that first time.”  She forced herself to turn back and stare at him, even though looking into his glittering stare just seemed to hurt her more. “When I came to you and said, ‘Someone’s watching me,’ your whole body stiffened.” She hadn’t put the pieces together then, how could she? “You thought that I’d found out about your guards, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t have guards on you then,” he snapped out the words from behind clenched teeth. “Maybe if I had, then you would’ve been safe.  That bastard doctor would never have gotten so close.”

Her lips parted but she had no words. He hadn’t just said that. He
couldn’t
have.

“I have enemies.” He took a step toward her. When she stiffened, he froze. “Dangerous enemies who would like nothing better than to hurt me. But you see, for some men, just hurting isn’t enough. They like to destroy people. Wreck them completely.”

She was as frozen as he was.  The ice was back, thicker than ever.

“Do you know what would destroy me?” Trace asked her.

Skye wasn’t sure if anything could.

“If someone hurt you, if someone
killed
you, that would fucking end me.” 

Tears stung her eyes.  “So you put guards on me—”

“I’ve killed, Skye.  For my country. For you.” His shoulders rolled back, and he gestured to his plush office. “You think this place didn’t come at a price?  It’s built on secrets. I learned plenty on a battlefield of blood and death. I learned to hunt my enemy, any place, any time.  And I learned that, sometimes, you even have to be willing to fight the people who are closest to you…because those people can be the most dangerous.” 

“I’m sick of secrets.”  Her voice was thick with tears that she wouldn’t shed. “You should’ve
told
me. It was my life.
Mine!”

“And what did you want me to do? To take you off the stage, away from the lights you loved, and tell you that my enemies might be after you? That there could be a man out there who wanted to hurt you, torture you, because of something
I’d
done?”

“I never loved the lights.” The words were a whispered confession. 

He frowned, then Trace gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “I put protection on you until the threat was gone. I just wanted you
safe
.”

He wasn’t getting it.  “You’re talking about
my
life.”

“I’m talking about the thing that matters most to me!” Trace leapt forward. His hands caught her shoulders. “I didn’t want you afraid. Not of me, not of the men that could come after you. I made a mistake. A stupid mistake, and
I
put you on their radar.”

“What mistake?” 

His gaze held hers. “I took you with me.  Fuck me, I took you.”

That made no sense to her. It didn’t—

“Your picture.  I needed it, Skye. I needed you.  But I should have left you behind, because by taking it, they knew my weakness. They knew that hurting you would break me.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

His fingers tightened on her.

“Stop it!” Skye yelled at him. “Stop keeping me in the dark and just tell me! Why do you think I can’t handle this? I survived a freak who kept me locked in a basement without food for days.
I survived
.”

His lashes lowered, concealing his eyes. “Some were traitors to our country. I worked Black Ops, Skye. It’s off the books, things too classified for most people to ever know.”

“I’m not most people. I’m the woman you kept in a cage, only I didn’t even know it.”  

He flinched. She’d hurt him. In that moment, Skye actually thought…
good.
Now he felt some of the pain that was ripping her apart.

It didn’t seem fair that she should be the only one who felt as if her heart were being torn out. “How many guards?”

“Does it matter?”

He
still
wasn’t telling her.

“How long? Months? Years?”

His hands shoved into his pockets, but he didn’t back away from her. “Only when I received intel to indicate that you might be in danger.”

He’d taken her choice away. By not telling her… “Just what did they watch?” All of her personal moments? Her failures? Her successes? Her intimate time with friends…with lovers? Had eyes been on her then?