Mine to Take (Mine #1)(43)

Finding Skye was their priority. He’d been pulling the strings and starting the search for her even when the doctors had been sewing him back up.

Reese slanted a fast glance his way when the vehicle stopped at a red light. “We’ve got eyes on the choreographer and the doctor in NY. Both guys have been going to work, business as usual for them.”

It wasn’t business as f*cking usual.

“If one of them had her…the guy would still be with her.”

If she’s alive. Trace heard the words that Reese didn’t say.

“Could just be that it’s not them. Her stalker could be anyone.” Reese kept talking as he drove them through the Chicago streets. “Some freak who saw her dance and fixated on her.”

Trace’s gaze slid to the window. “I want the plane ready to depart within the next two hours.”

The car braked at another red light. “Boss, you know that you’re not clear to travel. The doctors didn’t want to let you out—”

“We’re going to New York.” Because that was where the nightmare had started for Skye. “Have the plane ready.”

The killer had aimed for Trace’s heart with that bullet. The bullet had missed its target, barely.

But when the SOB had taken Skye…

You cut out my f*cking heart.

He wanted his heart back.

He’d get it back.

***

The handcuffs cut into Skye’s wrists. She’d lost track of time again. She’d tried counting the minutes before, a little trick to try and stay sane, but it hadn’t helped.

There was no light. Only a complete darkness. It was cold. So cold there in her prison.

Her wrists had stopped bleeding. She’d thought that the blood might help her slip out of the cuffs.

It hadn’t.

Her lips were cracked. Broken. Her stomach ached, but at least it had stopped growling.

She hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t been given a drop to drink.

She’d been taken. Then…left.

Forgotten in the dark.

She’d tried yelling before. Screaming. She’d screamed until her voice had broken.

Her hands were looped around some kind of thick, metal pole. She’d kicked it and kicked it. Jerked and pulled.

Nothing.

He’s just going to leave me down here. Until I starve.

It would be a slow death.

Death in darkness.

She tried to look through the dark. To see beyond it. Skye didn’t want this to be her last memory.

She wanted to remember Trace.

Trace.

He’d find her, eventually. She didn’t doubt that. If he’d survived that gunshot. He had to survive. He had to.

Trace would heal. He’d get out of the hospital. Then he would look for her.

She hated to think about what he would find.

***

“Janie, make sure that Mrs. Summer gets her medication before—”

Dr. Mitch Loxley broke off, choking.

Because Trace had just wrapped his hand around the prick’s throat.

“Stop!” The nurse—Janie—sprang to her feet. “Let him go!” She grabbed for the phone. “Security—”

“Security can wait a bit, honey,” Reese said as he took the phone from her. “We’re just gonna have us a little chat with the doc.”

Mitch’s eyes bulged. “Let…me…go…”

Trace eased his hold. “Want to have the chat out here, or in your office?” His fingerprints were bright on the doc’s throat.

“O-office…”

“Good choice.” He let the doctor go.

Mitch spun away from him. Strode down the hall.

“Dr. Loxley?” Janie called out uncertainly.

“I’ve got this,” Mitch snapped back.

No, the bastard didn’t.

Mitch threw open his office door. Paced inside and rubbed his neck.

Trace marched after him. Reese followed. He shut the door, then put his considerable bulk in front of the exit.

“What the hell?” Mitch demanded as he spun to confront Trace. “What the freaking hell! How dare you come in here and assault me—”

“Her picture is gone,” Trace said.

Mitch’s mouth snapped closed.

“All the pictures on your desk are gone.” Actually, it looked to him like the doctor was packing up his office. “Planning a trip?”

“I’ve got a transfer,” Mitch gritted out. “I applied for it months ago after—”

“After Skye dumped you.”

Mitch flushed. “I heard about her disappearance. I-I’m sorry. I hope the cops can find her soon.”

Trace wanted to drive his fist into the doc’s face. Again and again until he heard the smash of bones. “Seeing as how it was some person who took Skye, and not a figment of her imagination, I think your theory was a little off, doc.” Rage seethed in Trace’s words.

“My mistake.” Each word seemed torn from Mitch. “I thought…I-I was wrong.”

“You were.” He closed in on the doctor. He didn’t like Mitch Loxley. Didn’t trust him. Actually, Trace wanted to rip the man apart. “I almost killed a man for Skye once.”

Mitch swallowed. His eyes widened. “You did what?”