Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(33)

“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?

“They watched enough to make sure you weren’t going to be hurt. When the threats were gone, they pulled back.”

Fury seemed to choke her. “You should have told me.”

“I wanted you to have a normal life! I didn’t want you to be afraid all of the time—like you are now!”

Her breath sucked in. The pain hit her, even sharper than before.

“No, Skye.” Now he did back up, frantically, and his blue eyes widened with an expression of horror. “That’s not what I meant.”

“My nightmares,” Skye whispered.

His right hand raked through his hair. “I didn’t mean—”

“And I was afraid last night at the party. You were constantly keeping me close, weren’t you?” Her brows lowered as she thought about the ball. “Even when I was on the balcony, you had a guard on me. That’s why Noah was there.”

“Noah wasn’t the guard, but…” His chin notched up as he gave a grim nod. “Yes, I had protection on you.”

Every breath she took was cold. Ice coated her body and froze her lungs. Trace didn’t think that he was doing anything wrong. To him, she was the wrong one. The one who was afraid. The one who always needed protection.

Sharpe had said that Skye was Trace’s weakness.

Because I am weak?

Because she couldn’t survive in the dangerous world that Trace lived in?

“It doesn’t change anything,” Trace told her. His voice had softened. “So I had protection on you a few times. I was looking after you, the way I always have. My feelings for you are the same. And your feelings—”

A knock sounded at the door, cutting through his words.

Trace snarled, “Not f*cking now!”

But a voice—Noah’s voice?—called back, “Oh, I think you’re gonna want this f*cking now.” A pause. “Drake’s here, and you need to listen to what he has to say.”

“I need to smash his damn face in…” Trace whirled and headed for the door.

Wait, he just—he went for the door. What. The. Hell?

“Stop!” Skye yelled at him.

He stopped.

“In case you didn’t notice, we’re in the middle of something that is pretty important here.”

And he was—what? Choosing to go and talk with Drake while she stood there and felt as if her world were splintering?

“It’s about Skye!” Noah shouted. What, was the guy eavesdropping through the door? “Drake says you need to know who’s been following her.”

“Who hasn’t been?” Skye snapped.

Trace opened the door.

Both Noah and Drake stood there. Noah was glowering. Drake was smiling. And Sara was behind them, watching nervously.

“Uh, Trace?” Sara called, her voice hesitant. She craned her head around Noah and Drake. The light glinted off her blonde hair, and her blue eyes showed more than a hint of nervousness. “I know you said Mr. York was clear, but, um—”

“It’s all right, Sara,” he said. “I can handle them.”

“Right.” Sara nodded quickly. “Then I’ll just leave you to all of…that.”

“Old buddy,” Drake murmured as soon as Sara had slipped away, “it’s been too long.” His lips twitched.

Trace threw a hard swinging punch that caught Drake in the jaw and sent him stumbling back. “Not long enough.”

Drake fell into the hallway.

Sara gasped.

Trace followed Drake out and drew back his fist to punch again. “You went to Skye.”