Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(45)

The dog tag was a message.

The bathroom door opened. Light spilled behind Skye. “I wash and I wash my hands,” she said, sounding a little lost. Not at all like Skye. “But I just can’t seem to get all the blood off.”

He dropped the tag. Went straight to her. He caught her soft hands in his. “There’s no blood on you, baby.”

Her head tilted back. Her hair had come loose from the knot at the base of her neck. “If it’s on yours, then it’s on mine. What touches you…” Her smile broke his heart. “It touches me, too.”

I realized today…I would do anything for you.

The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought you’d killed Parker, and do you know what my first instinct was? To protect you.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“What does that say about me? If I’d steal evidence from a dead man’s body, then what else would I do for you?”

Everything.

The answer was there, stark and chilling between them.

“I can’t live like this.” Grim finality had entered her voice. “You were right. I-I should’ve seen someone after the attack. My mind’s jumbled. The nightmares won’t stop, and I’m not even sure who I am anymore.”

“I know who you are.” The only woman he’d ever loved.

She pulled away from him. “I can’t do this.”

No, no, she had to do this. But she was walking away from him.

“I’m very good at killing, Skye.” Those weren’t the words he’d meant to say. They sure as hell weren’t words that were going to reassure her. “The military taught me how to be good. How to get close to the enemy. How to take out my prey swiftly and silently. My main job was infiltration. Infiltration and hostage rescue.”

Rescue of military personnel who’d been taken by the enemy. Rescue of dignitaries. Of rich corporate CEOs who’d been taken because they’d been at the wrong place. Because they’d trusted the wrong men.

Some of those rescued men had been grateful. They’d remembered him when he left the military. They’d jumped at the chance to use Weston Securities for their corporations.

He’d kept their secrets.

But he was spilling his own.

“I saved lives, but I took lives, too. The lives of the enemy, the captors who’d taken the hostages.” Tell her. “And the lives of-of those on my team who turned against us.”

Very slowly, she faced him again.

He hated the strain on her face. His past had done this to her. “I thought it was better if you didn’t know.” He looked at his hands. “I still have the blood here, and you know the only time I ever feel clean? It’s when I’m touching you. You make me feel like I can be someone else.” And not just the lie that he presented to the world.

“You’re telling me this now?”

“You need to know.”

She shook her head, hard, and the last of her hair broke free from the knot, tumbling around her shoulders. “First I get that crazy phone call. I-I thought it had to be Reese, wanting me to help you, and then—”

He zeroed right in on that. “What phone call?”

“I race to that alley. I find him—”

“What phone call?” Trace snarled.

She stumbled back a step.

“Skye.” He tried to soften the harshness of his tone. He failed. “Please. What phone call?”

“Your number. It was your ring. Your number on the caller ID. But the voice didn’t sound like you.”

Fear was a living monster inside of Trace.

“He told me to go to that alley. That you needed me. That I had to help.”

“And you went?” Claws ripped at his insides.

“I tried to call you back first. But I couldn’t get you, and I was so afraid something had happened. I knew Parker was out—”

I knew I’d do anything for you.

“So I ran to the alley.” A sad shrug of her shoulders. “And I stole evidence.”

“Give me your phone.”

She blinked at him.

Trace didn’t wait for her to comply. He rushed to her discarded bag. He searched fast and yanked out the phone.

He scanned through her received calls list. Saw his name. His number. “I didn’t call you then.”

“Reese—”

“Reese was visiting his girlfriend earlier today. They have a standing lunch date each week.”

She blinked. “I didn’t—”

“He hacked into my account.” Smart SOB. “And he called you.” She could have walked straight into a slaughter. Her own. Trace wouldn’t have been able to do damn thing to save her.

“Who?” Skye was beside him now. “Who did this?”

Tell her everything.

There would be no going back now. “After a while, after we’d served our tours, the team knew we were good at what we did. Very damn good. We started our own rescue service. That’s what Weston Securities was, in the beginning.” And it still was, when the situation demanded it. “I tried to get Reese to join me back then, because he’d served with us, but he wanted to come home. He’d said that he’d had his fill of blood and death.”