Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(38)

She swiped away her tears and crossed the lobby.

They rode in silence to her studio.

Reese parked, then came to open her door.

When she rose, his fingers slid around her wrist. “You know he’s not an easy man. He just…he just wanted to keep you safe.”

This was the part that Trace didn’t seem to understand, either. “For ten years, I thought he’d forgotten me. Just left me. I ached for him, and he was gone.” His choice. “Now I learn that for the whole time, he had guards on me. He sent them, but he never said a word to me.” Inside, she felt a seething mix of pain and betrayal. She looked up, but the darkness concealed Reese’s expression. “You know more of his secrets than I do.”

“Don’t you know he’s afraid?” Reese asked. “He doesn’t want to lose you.”

“So I’m supposed to forgive everything? Live with his secrets?” She shook her head. “I can’t.” Skye took her bag from Reese and went into her studio.

***

“She’s safe and sound, boss.”

Trace stared down at the bed. Without Skye there, it seemed too big and too damn empty. “Thanks, Reese.” Her sweet vanilla scent drifted in the air.

“You want me to stay here? Keep an eye on the place tonight?”

Skye wanted her solitude. And she wanted her guards gone. I’m the woman you kept in a cage, only I didn’t even know it.

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “If she’s in the studio, then you’re done.” The place was wired with a top of the line security system. His system. She’d be safe.

“All right…but…are you okay?”

“Of course,” Trace said as he stared at the bed. He ended the call.

And he threw the phone across the room. “Never. Fucking. Better.”

***

The little ballerina had left Trace Weston.

The move was unexpected.

Infuriating.

She wasn’t supposed to leave him. She was supposed to stay with Trace. To make him weak.

Did she leave you? Or did you tell her to leave? It was so hard to be certain. Trace was good at driving people away from him.

Nothing would work if Trace wasn’t tied to the woman. He couldn’t suffer if he didn’t love.

And he’d been so convinced that Trace loved her.

Lights glowed from the second floor of the converted studio.

All alone.

He could get to Skye Sullivan right then. He could kill her easily, but if Trace was severing ties with her, what would be the point?

Wait…wait and see…

This game was all about Trace Weston. About him paying for the crimes he’d committed and the lives that he’d stolen.

And it’s about me getting what I deserve.

The lights flashed off.

Sleep well, ballerina. I’ll join you soon enough.

***

“What the f*ck do you mean…Parker made bail?”

Trace glanced up from the pile of papers on his desk. He’d been at the office since 4 a.m. Sleep hadn’t exactly been happening at home, not without Skye there, so he’d escaped to the office.

Alex Griffin shifted uneasily before him. “The judge granted bail. Fifty thousand dollars.”

Trace surged to his feet. “And where did Parker get that kind of money?”

“Hell if I know.”

Parker was out. On the streets. “Have you told Skye?” Trace demanded.

“I called her.” Alex inclined his head. “I wasn’t overly worried that she’d go out and beat the crap out of the guy, though. I figured that was more your department.”

Right. “And that’s why I warranted the private visit.”

Alex’s gaze dipped to Trace’s hands. “I can’t help but notice that nice bruising you got on your knuckles. You know, Parker never stopped spinning the story about you breaking into his place and assaulting him.”

Trace forced himself to take slow, easy breaths. “You think I’m going after the guy again?”

“I think you needed a warning. Watch yourself, Weston. A jerk like Parker isn’t worth the trouble you can find heading your way.” Then Alex gave him a little salute and turned for the door.

But Trace wasn’t done. “Why did you bring Skye to Parker’s place yesterday?”

Alex glanced back at him. “Because she called me. She wanted to confront Parker, and she wanted me at her side.”

Trace’s heart raced faster.

“She was afraid of what might happen if you got to him before the cops did.” One brow crooked up. “Seems she knows you pretty well.”

She knew I was lying to her.

“Have you learned anything else about Ben Sharpe’s death?” Trace asked the cop.

“Ah, you mean since I’m actually a homicide detective now?” Alex gave him a grim smile. “It wasn’t a robbery gone wrong. The killer worked fast, and he worked efficiently. Obviously, it wasn’t his first kill. First kills are sloppy, unorganized.”

Trace waited.

“This kill was planned and deliberate. Someone wanted Sharpe out of the way.” A low sigh. “At least Sharpe didn’t suffer long.”

“You’re wrong,” Trace said, glancing over at the photograph on his desk. “He suffered for years, but his pain is gone now.”