Mine to Keep

by Cynthia Eden

  His desk. She looked down and saw the framed photograph there. The only photograph.

  One of her. Smiling.

  He’d taken that while they were in the Keys.

  Pain rose and threatened to choke her. “How long did Drake Archer watch me?”

  “Three months.”

  Her eyes closed. “Then you sent someone else, right? You kept sending someone, to watch—” Skye broke off. She started to laugh then, but the sound was brittle. “Oh, dear God, that’s why you looked so shocked when I came to your office that first time.” She forced herself to turn back and stare at him, even though looking into his glittering stare just seemed to hurt her more. “When I came to you and said, ‘Someone’s watching me,’ your whole body stiffened.” She hadn’t put the pieces together then, how could she? “You thought that I’d found out about your guards, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t have guards on you then,” he snapped out the words from behind clenched teeth. “Maybe if I had, then you would’ve been safe. That bastard doctor would never have gotten so close.”

  Her lips parted but she had no words. He hadn’t just said that. He couldn’t have.

  “I have enemies.” He took a step toward her. When she stiffened, he froze. “Dangerous enemies who would like nothing better than to hurt me. But you see, for some men, just hurting isn’t enough. They like to destroy people. Wreck them completely.”

  She was as frozen as he was. The ice was back, thicker than ever.

  “Do you know what would destroy me?” Trace asked her.

  Skye wasn’t sure if anything could.

  “If someone hurt you, if someone killed you, that would fucking end me.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “So you put guards on me—”

  “I’ve killed, Skye. For my country. For you.” His shoulders rolled back, and he gestured to his plush office. “You think this place didn’t come at a price? It’s built on secrets. I learned plenty on a battlefield of blood and death. I learned to hunt my enemy, any place, any time. And I learned that, sometimes, you even have to be willing to fight the people who are closest to you…because those people can be the most dangerous.”

  “I’m sick of secrets.” Her voice was thick with tears that she wouldn’t shed. “You should’ve told me. It was my life. Mine!”

  “And what did you want me to do? To take you off the stage, away from the lights you loved, and tell you that my enemies might be after you? That there could be a man out there who wanted to hurt you, torture you, because of something I’d done?”

  “I never loved the lights.” The words were a whispered confession.

  He frowned, then Trace gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “I put protection on you until the threat was gone. I just wanted you safe.”

  He wasn’t getting it. “You’re talking about my life.”

  “I’m talking about the thing that matters most to me!” Trace leapt forward. His hands caught her shoulders. “I didn’t want you afraid. Not of me, not of the men that could come after you. I made a mistake. A stupid mistake, and I put you on their radar.”

  “What mistake?”

  His gaze held hers. “I took you with me. Fuck me, I took you.”

  That made no sense to her. It didn’t—

  “Your picture. I needed it, Skye. I needed you. But I should have left you behind, because by taking it, they knew my weakness. They knew that hurting you would break me.”

  “Who is ‘they’?”

  His fingers tightened on her.

  “Stop it!” Skye yelled at him. “Stop keeping me in the dark and just tell me! Why do you think I can’t handle this? I survived a freak who kept me locked in a basement without food for days. I survived.”

  His lashes lowered, concealing his eyes. “Some were traitors to our country. I worked Black Ops, Skye. It’s off the books, things too classified for most people to ever know.”

  “I’m not most people. I’m the woman you kept in a cage, only I didn’t even know it.”

  He flinched. She’d hurt him. In that moment, Skye actually thought…good. Now he felt some of the pain that was ripping her apart.

  It didn’t seem fair that she should be the only one who felt as if her heart were being torn out. “How many guards?”

  “Does it matter?”

  He still wasn’t telling her.

  “How long? Months? Years?”

  His hands shoved into his pockets, but he didn’t back away from her. “Only when I received intel to indicate that you might be in danger.”

  He’d taken her choice away. By not telling her… “Just what did they watch?” All of her personal moments? Her failures? Her successes? Her intimate time with friends…with lovers? Had eyes been on her then?

  “They watched enough to make sure you weren’t going to be hurt. When the threats were gone, they pulled back.”

  Fury seemed to choke her. “You should have told me.”

  “I wanted you to have a normal life! I didn’t want you to be afraid all of the time—like you are now!”

  Her breath sucked in. The pain hit her, even sharper than before.

  “No, Skye.” Now he did back up, frantically, and his blue eyes widened with an expression of horror. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “My nightmares,” Skye whispered.

  His right hand raked through his hair. “I didn’t mean—”

  “And I was afraid last night at the party. You were constantly keeping me close, weren’t you?” Her brows lowered as she thought about the ball. “Even when I was on the balcony, you had a guard on me. That’s why Noah was there.”

  “Noah wasn’t the guard, but…” His chin notched up as he gave a grim nod. “Yes, I had protection on you.”

  Every breath she took was cold. Ice coated her body and froze her lungs. Trace didn’t think that he was doing anything wrong. To him, she was the wrong one. The one who was afraid. The one who always needed protection.

  Sharpe had said that Skye was Trace’s weakness.

  Because I am weak?

  Because she couldn’t survive in the dangerous world that Trace lived in?

  “It doesn’t change anything,” Trace told her. His voice had softened. “So I had protection on you a few times. I was looking after you, the way I always have. My feelings for you are the same. And your feelings—”

  A knock sounded at the door, cutting through his words.

  Trace snarled, “Not fucking now!”

  But a voice—Noah’s voice?—called back, “Oh, I think you’re gonna want this fucking now.” A pause. “Drake’s here, and you need to listen to what he has to say.”

  “I need to smash his damn face in…” Trace whirled and headed for the door.

  Wait, he just—he went for the door. What. The. Hell?

  “Stop!” Skye yelled at him.

  He stopped.

  “In case you didn’t notice, we’re in the middle of something that is pretty important here.”

  And he was—what? Choosing to go and talk with Drake while she stood there and felt as if her world were splintering?

  “It’s about Skye!” Noah shouted. What, was the guy eavesdropping through the door? “Drake says you need to know who’s been following her.”

  “Who hasn’t been?” Skye snapped.

  Trace opened the door.

  Both Noah and Drake stood there. Noah was glowering. Drake was smiling. And Sara was behind them, watching nervously.

  “Uh, Trace?” Sara called, her voice hesitant. She craned her head around Noah and Drake. The light glinted off her blonde hair, and her blue eyes showed more than a hint of nervousness. “I know you said Mr. York was clear, but, um—”

  “It’s all right, Sara,” he said. “I can handle them.”

  “Right.” Sara nodded quickly. “Then I’ll just leave you to all of…that.”

  “Old buddy,” Drake murmured as soon as Sara had slipped away, “it’s been too long.” His lips twitched.

 
Trace threw a hard swinging punch that caught Drake in the jaw and sent him stumbling back. “Not long enough.”

  Drake fell into the hallway.

  Sara gasped.

  Trace followed Drake out and drew back his fist to punch again. “You went to Skye.”

  Skye leapt forward, racing across the room.

  “I knew this would happen.” Noah sounded disgusted.

  “You told her—” Trace continued.

  Skye grabbed his arm. “Don’t! Just—stop!” His muscles were tight beneath her grip.

  “You heard the lady,” Drake rasped. “Stop.”

  Her gaze flew to him. Trace had busted Drake’s lower lip, and blood dripped down onto his chin, heading for the faint cleft there.

  “We all need to calm down,” Noah said.

  “Th-that sounds like a plan,” Sara echoed. She’d jumped behind her desk.

  Trace turned his head and his gaze met Skye’s. “You already look at me differently.”

  Because she wasn’t sure that she knew him at all.

  “I’m not the only guy from the past tracking your Skye,” Drake said. “Has she already told you about her near-miss today?”

  Trace’s eyes sharpened on her. “What near miss?”

  This wasn’t important. “A reporter—” Skye began.

  “A white male in his late twenties. Broken nose. Shaggy blond hair.” Drake seemed to be ticking off the description one point at a time. “About six foot one, lean, wearing a hoodie, and focusing only on your lady there.”

  Trace dropped his fist.

  Drake slowly rose to his feet. He swiped his hand over his bleeding lip. “Still got that killer hook, huh, Trace?”

  “And you still have a death wish,” Trace threw right back at him.

  “Guess some things never change,” Noah added. “Look, can we cut through the bull and get down to business?” He marched past them and headed back into Trace’s office. “Before we give Sara there a heart attack, let’s bring the party back inside.”

  Skye didn’t want them inside. She needed to finish talking to Trace. He couldn’t just blow her off.

  But Drake had sauntered inside too.

  Trace stood there, staring at her.

  And Sara’s gaze was filled with fear.

  Right. Skye gave the other woman a little nod and marched back into Trace’s office. He followed on her heels and secured the door.

  “Now, isn’t that better?” Noah asked. “We can tear each other apart in private…or, if we’re feeling sane, we can actually talk.”

  Trace folded his arms over his chest and focused on Drake. “Tell me more about the guy at Skye’s place.”

  Drake swiped away more blood. “I saw the same guy, yesterday, just hanging near her studio.” Drake’s words were musing. “Only then, he drove off in a blue BMW. There was no sign of that ride today.”

  Trace’s whole body stiffened.

  “Trace…” Skye whispered.

  “Broken nose,” Trace repeated. “Blond hair…six foot one…Sonofabitch.”

  Drake glanced at him with a raised brow. “So you know the jerkoff in question?”

  “A blue BMW crashed into Trace and Skye’s limo last night.” Noah was somber now. “From your description, it sounds like our guy…”

  Trace grabbed his jacket. Actually started rushing back toward the door.

  She put herself right in his path. “Where are you going?” He couldn’t be leaving.

  Trace’s body vibrated with fury. “Don’t you get who did this to us? Who tried to kill us both last night? The broken nose, Skye. The blond hair. The build—don’t you see who this is pointing to?”

  She didn’t want to see. “That was a long time ago. Do you really think a man would hold a grudge for that many years?”

  “I think a man can want revenge forever.”

  “Uh, who are we talking about here?” Noah wanted to know.

  “A jerkoff named Parker Jacobs,” Trace’s voice was clipped. His gaze didn’t leave Skye’s face as he said, “I knew I should’ve done more than just beat the shit out of him back then.”

  “You don’t know that it was Parker,” Skye said. This was crazy.

  “I’ll know,” Drake offered, sounding all helpful. She wanted to punch him. “Show me a picture of this Parker Jacobs, and I’ll tell you in an instant if it’s the man I saw at her studio.”

  Skye hadn’t seen Parker in years. She hadn’t wanted to see him.

  He’d nearly raped her when she’d been fifteen years old. If Trace hadn’t been there…

  Her hero.

  And he’d almost killed Parker that night.

  Trace headed back to his desk with slow, measured steps. He bent over his computer. Tapped quickly on the keys, and then straightened. “Is that the man?”

  Drake leaned in close to stare at the screen. “Yeah, yeah, that’s the guy I saw jump into the BMW yesterday—and he’s the one who was watching Skye today.”

  She had to stop this. “We need to call the cops. If Parker did hit us last night, then let’s get them to handle it. Let’s call Alex. Detective Griffin can—”

  “All I’m going to do right now is pay our old foster brother a visit. Ask him a few questions.” All of the emotion had vanished from his face and voice. “I’m not going to hurt him. Just talk to the bastard.”

  She didn’t believe him. Skye shook her head. “Call the cops,” she said again. “Drake can tell them what he saw. I don’t want you anywhere around Parker, do you understand me?” Because she was scared, so very scared, about what Trace might do.

  She didn’t want him to just be a killer.

  And Skye was already afraid there might be too much blood on his hands.

  Everyone waited in that room. Waited.

  The tension thickened.

  Then Trace reached for his phone. “Get me Detective Alex Griffin.”

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “For you, Skye,” Trace said as his gaze lifted to meet hers. “Only for you.”

  ***

  The office door closed softly behind Skye.

  “Seriously? You’re just turning that guy over to the cops, knowing that he might have tried to kill you last night?” Drake demanded. His voice was thick with disgust. “Who the hell are you and when did you become so whipped?”

  Trace offered him a grim smile. “I put in a call to the detective. I left the information that I had with the desk sergeant. Now, if the powers that be at the Chicago PD can actually find Alex Griffin and relay that information before I get to my dear ex-foster brother, then good damn deal for them.”

  Noah whistled. “You’re still going after him.”

  “I never said I wouldn’t.” Skye was gone. Before she’d left, Skye had promised that they’d talk at home.

  Where Noah and Drake weren’t watching.

  “I told Skye I would call the authorities. I did. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my own share of questions for Parker.”

  “So just what did you do to this guy?” Drake asked. “Did you work your usual charm? Did that piss him off enough to make the fellow want to take you out?”

  Drake was still his charming asshole self. “I caught him trying to rape Skye, and I beat the shit out of him.”

  Noah rocked back on his heels. “That would do it…”

  “Now, if you will both excuse me, I need to make sure that Parker stays the hell out of my life.”

  He strode to the door.

  “By any means necessary?”

  Drake’s question didn’t stop Trace.

  “That is your way, isn’t it? Our way,” Drake added.

  When it came to Parker Jacobs, it was the only way.

  Don’t think of Skye. Don’t think of the pain in her eyes. Don’t focus on that now. His fingers tightened around the doorknob. He owed Drake for what he’d done with his shit-for-timing revelations to Skye, but now wasn’t the time to repay that debt. He had to handle one SOB at a time.

>   When Skye had walked out of that elevator, all Trace had wanted to do was take her into his arms. To try and make her understand.

  But Trace wasn’t sure there was any understanding. He’d put guards on her. Kept secrets.

  I’m still keeping them.

  “Skye isn’t going to like this,” Noah said quietly as he came toward the door. “Not when she finds out.”

  “If Parker is trying to hurt her, I have to stop him.” They didn’t get it. Noah and Drake had never cared about anyone the way he did for Skye. They didn’t have the connection. The need.

  The vulnerability.

  They fucked their women, and then they walked away.

  No emotions. No weaknesses.

  He couldn’t live that way.

  “Now, gentlemen, get the hell out of my office.” Because I have an old enemy to hunt down.

  ***

  There was no sign of any cops at Parker’s apartment. Good. Trace lifted his hand and slammed his fist into the door.

  He heard a muffled curse from inside. The shuffle of footsteps headed toward him, then the door opened, just a few inches. “What the hell—” Parker’s muddy brown eyes widened. “You!” He tried to shove the door closed.

  Trace shoved right back. Wood splintered and Parker stumbled away.

  “Y-you can’t be here!” Parker yelled at him. “Get out of my place!”

  “Ah, I see you remember me.” Trace said as he straightened his coat. “And I definitely remember you, Parker.”

  Parker gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Wh-what do you want?”

  “To know why you tried to kill me last night.”

  Parker shook his head, a frantic gesture. “I didn’t! I swear!”

  “Now, you see…” Trace stepped toward him. “I don’t exactly believe that. You and the truth don’t have the best history together.”

  Parker spun away and grabbed a baseball bat that had been propped up against the wall. He swung it at Trace.