Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(7)

And…just like that…the mysterious Ben was gone. Reese followed him out, and Trace secured the door behind them.

Skye was left alone with Trace.

Only…

Trace was different.

He stalked toward her, his steps sure, but his eyes shone with an emotion that she couldn’t decipher.

“Wh-what was that about?” She hated the stutter in her voice as much as she hated the nervousness twisting her guts in knots.

“Ben Sharpe had a…hard time during his enlistment. The last mission went wrong, and he came back—”

“Broken?” Skye finished because that was how the man had looked.

And it’s the way my mother had appeared. So many times. There’d been no mistaking the look in Ben’s eyes.

“He wasn’t the same,” Trace said instead. Then he rolled his shoulders, as if trying to push the past away. “Reese will see to it that he’s taken care of. Don’t worry.”

“But Ben said someone was watching him.” And, not too long ago, she’d gone to Trace and told him the same thing. Someone is watching me. She’d been afraid that Trace wouldn’t believe her. The cops sure hadn’t bought her story.

But Trace had.

He’d protected her. Saved her life.

“When he’s off his meds, Ben has hallucinations. He talks to people who aren’t there. He sees people who aren’t there.”

Just like her mother. Skye swallowed. “But are you sure—”

He kissed her. His lips—so warm and sensual—pressed to hers. “Don’t worry about him,” he whispered against her lips. “You don’t have anything to fear from Ben.”

It wasn’t Ben that she was afraid of. It was his warning that wouldn’t stop playing through her mind.

He’d said death was coming. “Are you safe?” Skye asked Trace, lifting her lashes to look into his bright gaze.

“Always,” he told her, and she wanted to believe him.

After all, Trace wouldn’t lie to her…

Would he?

His hands closed around her shoulders. He seemed so warm and solid, so incredibly strong before her. “I don’t want that part of my life ever touching you.”

She shook her head. “That’s not going to work. We can’t be that way.”

Trace stilled.

“No secrets,” she heard herself say. “That’s the way it needs to be. You know everything about me…” Every fear she had.

Every desire.

He let her go. “There are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Trace…”

He lifted his hand. “Let it go, baby. Just…let it go. The past is buried, and all I care about is my future with you.”

“But that man—”

“He’s crazy!” Trace exploded.

She flinched. Not because of the anger in his voice, but because his words hit far too close to home. “And what if I am, one day? What if—”

She didn’t get to say more. Because Trace had her in his arms, holding her so tightly that she knew she might bruise, but Skye didn’t care.

“You aren’t. You won’t ever be.”

So easy for him to say.

But Trace hadn’t lived in a home with a mother who lost her hold on reality a little more each day. A woman who talked with people who weren’t there. A woman who hurt her daughter and never remembered doing it.

The doctors said her mother had been psychotic. Sometimes, too many times, Skye wondered if there was a ticking time bomb within herself.

That’s why I won’t go see the shrinks. I don’t want to know…

“You survived that sick bastard’s kidnapping. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” He’d lifted her up against him and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “I know crazy, Skye, and it’s not you.”

She could barely breathe in his grasp. Skye pushed against him, and Trace let her toes touch the floor once more. “I came to you,” she said, searching his eyes, “with the same story that Ben just told. Someone was watching me. You believed me.” What if he hadn’t? “Are you so certain that man wasn’t telling the truth?”

“Ben…he has a problem with reality. For the last few years, he’s been convinced that someone was after him.” His lips thinned. “He thought his past was chasing him.”

“What if it is?” He’d seemed so desperate.

Her mother had been desperate that way, once.

Her desperation had led her to take her own life—and to take the life of Skye’s father in the process.

“I’ll have another talk with him, okay?” Trace said. “If he’s being hunted by anything other than his own demons, I’ll find out.”

Relief had her shoulders slumping.

“Your heart’s too soft,” he growled, and Trace sounded angry. Odd, he didn’t usually get angry with her.

Everyone else? Oh, yes, but not her.

“You can’t be so trusting, Skye.” He let her go and stalked across the room. The marble floor gleamed beneath his feet. He stopped at the bar. A bar that took up half the left wall. Trace grabbed the decanter of whiskey and poured a sloshing glassful. “That trust can get you into trouble.”