Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(12)

“This way,” Reese said. He directed her to what had previously been a closet, but when she opened the door, she saw the area had been expanded. Four television screens were mounted on the wall. One showed the rear exterior of the old fire station, two showed the sides of the building, and the largest screen showed the entrance—and the man who stood there.

“Like the boss said,” Reese told her, “he upgraded your security.”

She leaned toward the big screen. “That’s Alex—Detective Griffin.” The one cop who’d finally believed her story about a stalker.

She turned away from the screen and hurried toward the front door. She hadn’t seen Alex in weeks. Before my abduction.

Because Mitch had taken her to New York, the NYPD had taken over the case. They’d closed the file on Mitch Loxley.

After quickly unbolting the door, Skye swung it open. “Detective Griffin!” A broad smile split her face. “It’s good to see you.”

He blinked at her, and an answering smile slowly stretched across his handsome face. Alex Griffin was just a little shorter than Trace, and his shoulders weren’t quite as wide, but the cop was fit and smart. And he’d been there for Skye when she’d been at the end of her rope.

Sunlight glinted off his blond hair, and his gaze swept over her. “It’s good to see you, too.” He surprised her by pulling her into his arms and giving her a big hug. “Damn good. Because the last time I saw you…” A rough sigh broke from him as he eased back a bit and stared down at her. “You were lying unconscious in a hospital bed.”

That response surprised her. “You came to see me in New York?” The time after her abduction was a blur for her. She’d gone too long without food. Spent too much time in the darkness.

She’d come too close to death.

Alex nodded. “I needed to see for myself that you were all right.” Now he frowned. “Weston didn’t tell you I was there?”

No. He hadn’t.

Alex dropped his hold. Stepped back fully. This time, when his gaze swept over her, his attention locked on her left hand.

Or, more specifically, on the ring there.

“I’m sure…” Reese cut in, clearing his throat from behind them, “that Trace was more concerned with Skye here healing…and not giving her a full visitor listing.”

Alex didn’t glance at the other man. “Should I congratulate you, Skye?”

Her throat felt dry. There was something about his tone. A hard edge that worried her. “Yes,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “Trace and I—we’re together now and—”

“As if he’d have it any other way.” Alex’s growled words definitely held anger.

“Watch it,” Reese warned him. “Cop or no cop, you—”

Alex shook his head and kept staring at Skye. “As good as it is to see you—awake, aware, and not looking like death anymore—I’m actually here on business.”

They were still standing in the doorway. Skye backed up and bumped into Reese. “What kind of business?”

“I transferred to homicide.”

Uh, okay. She circled around him and shut the door. Her fingers flipped over the lock.

“Thought it was time for a change.”

“Congratulations.” That was the right response, wasn’t it? From the sound of things, he’d taken a new job, so she was supposed to congratulate him.

Just as he should have congratulated her.

Alex’s gaze cut to Reese. “Can your guard give us a minute? We need to talk, alone.”

“I don’t think—” Reese said.

“It’s fine, Reese.” She walked toward him and patted his arm. “Why don’t you just go and—well, take a few moments to relax?” Right, like the guy ever relaxed. She’d sure never seen it.

One brow lifted, but Reese gave a curt nod. “If you need me, I’ll be close.” Then, after one last, measuring glance at Alex, he was gone.

Alex didn’t speak, not at first. After a few tense moments, he exhaled and asked, “Still under guard duty?”

Because she’d thought the exact same thing, Skye’s words held bite as she told him, “It’s just a precaution, only for a few days. We just wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any trouble from the press.”

“And the fact that Weston has a shitload of enemies? Deadly enemies? That has nothing to do with the bodyguard detail?”

His tone was scaring her. “You said you had business to talk about…” And he was homicide now. Oh, damn, this couldn’t be good.

“Does the name Ben Sharpe mean anything to you?”

Ben. The man’s face flashed before her. The feverish intensity of his eyes. The certainty in his voice.

He’s here. Watching. I know!

“You know him,” Alex said, apparently reading the truth on her face.

“We met last night,” she said as she rubbed at the knot of tension in the back of her neck. “Briefly.”

He stepped closer to her. “And was Weston there for this little meeting?”

“Ah, yes. He was. Trace and Ben knew each other from—”

The front door swung open with a creak. Her gaze flew to the door. She’d been sure that she locked it—