Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(34)

Skye leapt forward, racing across the room.

“I knew this would happen.” Noah sounded disgusted.

“You told her—” Trace continued.

Skye grabbed his arm. “Don’t! Just—stop!” His muscles were tight beneath her grip.

“You heard the lady,” Drake rasped. “Stop.”

Her gaze flew to him. Trace had busted Drake’s lower lip, and blood dripped down onto his chin, heading for the faint cleft there.

“We all need to calm down,” Noah said.

“Th-that sounds like a plan,” Sara echoed. She’d jumped behind her desk.

Trace turned his head and his gaze met Skye’s. “You already look at me differently.”

Because she wasn’t sure that she knew him at all.

“I’m not the only guy from the past tracking your Skye,” Drake said. “Has she already told you about her near-miss today?”

Trace’s eyes sharpened on her. “What near miss?”

This wasn’t important. “A reporter—” Skye began.

“A white male in his late twenties. Broken nose. Shaggy blond hair.” Drake seemed to be ticking off the description one point at a time. “About six foot one, lean, wearing a hoodie, and focusing only on your lady there.”

Trace dropped his fist.

Drake slowly rose to his feet. He swiped his hand over his bleeding lip. “Still got that killer hook, huh, Trace?”

“And you still have a death wish,” Trace threw right back at him.

“Guess some things never change,” Noah added. “Look, can we cut through the bull and get down to business?” He marched past them and headed back into Trace’s office. “Before we give Sara there a heart attack, let’s bring the party back inside.”

Skye didn’t want them inside. She needed to finish talking to Trace. He couldn’t just blow her off.

But Drake had sauntered inside too.

Trace stood there, staring at her.

And Sara’s gaze was filled with fear.

Right. Skye gave the other woman a little nod and marched back into Trace’s office. He followed on her heels and secured the door.

“Now, isn’t that better?” Noah asked. “We can tear each other apart in private…or, if we’re feeling sane, we can actually talk.”

Trace folded his arms over his chest and focused on Drake. “Tell me more about the guy at Skye’s place.”

Drake swiped away more blood. “I saw the same guy, yesterday, just hanging near her studio.” Drake’s words were musing. “Only then, he drove off in a blue BMW. There was no sign of that ride today.”

Trace’s whole body stiffened.

“Trace…” Skye whispered.

“Broken nose,” Trace repeated. “Blond hair…six foot one…Sonofabitch.”

Drake glanced at him with a raised brow. “So you know the jerkoff in question?”

“A blue BMW crashed into Trace and Skye’s limo last night.” Noah was somber now. “From your description, it sounds like our guy…”

Trace grabbed his jacket. Actually started rushing back toward the door.

She put herself right in his path. “Where are you going?” He couldn’t be leaving.

Trace’s body vibrated with fury. “Don’t you get who did this to us? Who tried to kill us both last night? The broken nose, Skye. The blond hair. The build—don’t you see who this is pointing to?”

She didn’t want to see. “That was a long time ago. Do you really think a man would hold a grudge for that many years?”

“I think a man can want revenge forever.”

“Uh, who are we talking about here?” Noah wanted to know.

“A jerkoff named Parker Jacobs,” Trace’s voice was clipped. His gaze didn’t leave Skye’s face as he said, “I knew I should’ve done more than just beat the shit out of him back then.”

“You don’t know that it was Parker,” Skye said. This was crazy.

“I’ll know,” Drake offered, sounding all helpful. She wanted to punch him. “Show me a picture of this Parker Jacobs, and I’ll tell you in an instant if it’s the man I saw at her studio.”

Skye hadn’t seen Parker in years. She hadn’t wanted to see him.

He’d nearly raped her when she’d been fifteen years old. If Trace hadn’t been there…

Her hero.

And he’d almost killed Parker that night.

Trace headed back to his desk with slow, measured steps. He bent over his computer. Tapped quickly on the keys, and then straightened. “Is that the man?”

Drake leaned in close to stare at the screen. “Yeah, yeah, that’s the guy I saw jump into the BMW yesterday—and he’s the one who was watching Skye today.”

She had to stop this. “We need to call the cops. If Parker did hit us last night, then let’s get them to handle it. Let’s call Alex. Detective Griffin can—”

“All I’m going to do right now is pay our old foster brother a visit. Ask him a few questions.” All of the emotion had vanished from his face and voice. “I’m not going to hurt him. Just talk to the bastard.”

She didn’t believe him. Skye shook her head. “Call the cops,” she said again. “Drake can tell them what he saw. I don’t want you anywhere around Parker, do you understand me?” Because she was scared, so very scared, about what Trace might do.