Mine to Take (Mine #1)(39)

Just like my sister.

***

This location could work.

Skye gazed around at the old fire station. Okay, sure, most people wouldn’t think this place was primed to be a dance studio…

But this can happen. I can make this work.

Excitement and determination pulsed through her. She’d make this studio even better than the other one had been. She could get started right away. If she worked fast enough, hard enough, then maybe she could even have the studio up and running in three weeks, maybe two.

The building could work, so now she just had to come up with the down payment for the place. She’d already sold all of her jewelry. Her credit cards were maxed out.

But…there were a few people who owed her some favors. People like Robert. Maybe…maybe he could loan her the cash— “I’m taking over, Adam. You can go now.”

Trace’s voice. She didn’t stiffen. Didn’t start in alarm. Right then, she was too hopeful and happy to stiffen up.

Adam’s footsteps padded away, but Trace’s didn’t come any closer to her.

Determinedly, she glanced to the left. She found him staring at her with a hard intensity in his gaze. “I can put the mirrors there. The barres here.” She gestured with her hands. “The open area in the center will be perfect for dancers’ warm-ups.”

His gaze didn’t leave her face. That lethal intensity didn’t lessen.

Skye swallowed. I can even use the upstairs area for an apartment. That will save me money because I can get rid of my place.

But…she’d just gotten that wonderful security system at her place. She didn’t want to lose it.

“I think you should hold off on your studio,” Trace said flatly.

“No.” An immediate denial. She whirled to fully face him.

He wore a dark suit, one that emphasized the darkness of his hair and made his blue eyes gleam even brighter.

“Yes, Skye,” he said, voice curt. “You need to slow down. Your last place was torched less than twenty-four hours ago. Don’t you think that was a message? It’s not safe for you to do this. You have to—”

“I have to make this work. I have to believe that I can do it.”

Dancing was the only thing that had always gotten her through life.

When she danced, she became someone else. Someone stronger.

Without it…I’m lost.

His hands closed around her shoulders. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I thought I was the one doing this to myself,” she snapped at him. “Isn’t that the story going around now?”

“That story is bullshit.” His fingers tightened on her. “You trust me, and I trust you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted those words. Wanted them so badly.

She searched his eyes, wondering if he was telling her the truth…or feeding her the lie he knew she needed to hear.

***

Carol Jones gazed across the street at the old fire station. Skye Sullivan had sure been determined. She’d gone through five buildings, touring them all with her guard right at her side, before she’d stopped at this place.

“And the guard is gone,” Carol murmured as she watched the fellow hurry away.

Since Trace Weston had strode into that old fire station a few moments before, the guard’s departure wasn’t a real big surprise.

But…Detective Griffin didn’t trust Weston. He thought the man was guilty as sin.

Maybe it wasn’t safe for Skye to be alone with him.

Carol eased open her car door. Then she headed swiftly across the street. Her phone was at her ear as she entered the alley. “Hey, Griffin, it’s me.” She didn’t wait for him to respond but hurried to add, “Skye was looking for a new building to rent. She stopped at the old fire station on Ninth, and Weston just joined her.”

“Are they there alone?”

“I think so. I’m going in for a closer look.”

“Be careful,” he warned her.

Always. Carol eased into the alley. Maybe there was a window back there that she could use for a little observation.

She tucked her phone into her pocket and took a few more steps forward.

Yes. There was a window. One covered in grime. She leaned toward the bricks, trying to ease up closer to that window so that she could see— Someone grabbed her from behind. A rough hand closed over mouth. “You shouldn’t get involved in business that doesn’t concern you,” a snarling voice—a male voice—grated in her ear.

She reacted immediately, driving her elbow back into her attacker’s mid-section. He grunted and his hold eased, just for a moment. She jerked away from him. Carol grabbed for her weapon as she spun to face the man who— He shoved a knife into her chest.

Carol’s fingers squeezed the trigger, but her attacker was already lunging away from her.

Her knees hit the ground. The gun slid from her trembling fingers and fell beside her. Her blood soaked her, and Carol didn’t even have the strength to scream.

***

When the gunfire blasted, Trace grabbed Skye. He pulled her against his chest and curved his body protectively around hers.

One thunderous blast…then, nothing.

He glanced over his shoulder. That gunshot had come from out back, in the alley. Trace shoved back his coat and pulled out his own weapon.