But sad.
I did that. I hurt her.
Jaw clenching, he headed toward her. “I hate you found out this way—”
“As opposed to what?” Skye asked as she slowly advanced to meet him. “Continuing to not know? Letting you keep your secrets?” When she was close enough, Skye paused and tipped her head back to gaze up at him. “Is that the way you wanted things to be? You controlling everything while I wandered around in the dark?”
“Hell, no, Skye, I just—” He broke off, yanking his temper back in check. She deserved her fury. He just had to find a way to get her calm again.
“I can see it, you know.”
His brows lifted.
“Right now, you’re trying to figure out how to handle me. I’m a problem, and you want me fixed.”
Trace shook his head. “No, no, you’re not a problem.”
“Then maybe you are.” And she pushed by him.
That was when Trace noticed the little bag that rested at the end of the couch. A small, overnight bag.
His heart stopped. “You’re leaving.” No, no, she couldn’t leave.
“I need some space. This place…” Skye waved her hands. “I see you everywhere. I feel you everywhere.”
He didn’t move toward her. If he did, Trace was afraid that he’d grab her and hold on tight.
“I need to think, and I can’t do that when I feel like you’re surrounding me.”
Right then, he could barely think. Just breathing was a monumental effort.
“I didn’t want to leave before you got back, because I knew you’d just worry about me.”
He forced his back teeth to unclench. “Where will you go?”
“The studio. I have the apartment upstairs there, and I’ve been working on it for the last few days, getting it set up.”
What? “You knew you’d leave me?”
“No.” A sharp shake of her head. “I just wanted to have a place set up, just for me. We all need our refuges.”
But she wasn’t supposed to need a refuge when it came to him. He wanted to be her refuge.
“I don’t want you to leave me.” The words felt torn from him. Because they were.
She glanced down at the bag. “And I don’t want to leave.” Her laughter was soft. Even sadder than her eyes. “You know what I really want to do? I want to act as if nothing has happened. As if you didn’t keep guards on me for years. As if you didn’t lie to me. I want to sweep it all under the rug and just be with you.”
Hell, yes. He closed in on her. “Then do that. Nothing has changed. Not the way I feel about you. Not the way you feel about me.”
“I love you.” Her whisper sank into his skin. “Loving you is as natural as breathing for me, and I’m afraid. So afraid.”
He didn’t want her to fear him.
That was why she still didn’t know his darkest secrets.
“I’m afraid that if I don’t watch myself, I’d forgive you for anything.” Her lashes lifted. Her eyes held his. “I don’t want to lose myself in you.”
He didn’t have a response for that. His gaze fell on her left hand, on the ring that still gleamed there. She hadn’t taken it off.
She’s just asking for a night.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll have a car take you to the studio.”
“And you’ll have a guard watch me all night?”
His lips thinned.
“No guards. I need to live the way everyone else does. I want to be on my own. I want to be able to face the darkness and not always need—”
“Me,” he finished gruffly.
Skye stared back at him, but then she nodded. She bent and her fingers curled around the handle of her bag. Then she was walking toward the door with her usual, graceful stride.
Was she just going to leave without looking back?
She paused. Stared straight ahead. “There are more secrets, right?”
Yes, there were.
“I don’t want secrets between us. I want all of you. Good and bad. And when you don’t tell me everything…” Her shoulders hunched. “That says that you think I’m weak. That I can’t handle you as you really are.”
No, it wasn’t like that.
“I don’t want secrets. And if you only give me part of yourself…” She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, “That’s not going to be enough for me.” Tears thickened her voice.
He stood, rooted to the spot, as she left him.
The door closed softly behind her.
He didn’t run after her. Skye had never expected Trace to do that. He wasn’t the running sort.
She managed to keep her tears back until she was in the elevator. Then they slid down her face.
The overnight bag dropped from her hand.
Leaving him felt so wrong.
I need a night. Just a night to think.
Because if she stayed, Skye had no doubt that they’d wind up in bed together. The need and lust always seemed to burn between them, surging strongly no matter what else was happening.
How many lies has he told me?
The elevator doors opened. She wasn’t particularly surprised to find Reese standing on the other side of those doors. Without a word, he bent and scooped up her bag.
She swiped away her tears and crossed the lobby.
They rode in silence to her studio.
Reese parked, then came to open her door.
When she rose, his fingers slid around her wrist. “You know he’s not an easy man. He just…he just wanted to keep you safe.”
This was the part that Trace didn’t seem to understand, either. “For ten years, I thought he’d forgotten me. Just left me. I ached for him, and he was gone.” His choice. “Now I learn that for the whole time, he had guards on me. He sent them, but he never said a word to me.” Inside, she felt a seething mix of pain and betrayal. She looked up, but the darkness concealed Reese’s expression. “You know more of his secrets than I do.”
“Don’t you know he’s afraid?” Reese asked. “He doesn’t want to lose you.”
“So I’m supposed to forgive everything? Live with his secrets?” She shook her head. “I can’t.” Skye took her bag from Reese and went into her studio.
“She’s safe and sound, boss.”
Trace stared down at the bed. Without Skye there, it seemed too big and too damn empty. “Thanks, Reese.” Her sweet vanilla scent drifted in the air.
“You want me to stay here? Keep an eye on the place tonight?”
Skye wanted her solitude. And she wanted her guards gone. I’m the woman you kept in a cage, only I didn’t even know it.
“No.” His voice was hoarse. “If she’s in the studio, then you’re done.” The place was wired with a top of the line security system. His system. She’d be safe.
“All right…but…are you okay?”
“Of course,” Trace said as he stared at the bed. He ended the call.
And he threw the phone across the room. “Never. Fucking. Better.”
The little ballerina had left Trace Weston.
The move was unexpected.
Infuriating.
She wasn’t supposed to leave him. She was supposed to stay with Trace. To make him weak.
Did she leave you? Or did you tell her to leave? It was so hard to be certain. Trace was good at driving people away from him.
Nothing would work if Trace wasn’t tied to the woman. He couldn’t suffer if he didn’t love.
And he’d been so convinced that Trace loved her.
Lights glowed from the second floor of the converted studio.
All alone.
He could get to Skye Sullivan right then. He could kill her easily, but if Trace was severing ties with her, what would be the point?
Wait…wait and see…
This game was all about Trace Weston. About him paying for the crimes he’d committed and the lives that he’d stolen.
And it’s about me getting what I deserve.
The lights flashed off.
Sleep well, ballerina. I’ll join you soon enough.
“What the fuck do you mean…Parker made bail?”
Trace glanced up from the pile of papers on his desk. He’d been at the office since 4 a.m. Sleep hadn’t exactly been happening at home, not without Skye there, so he’d escaped to the office.
Alex Griffin shifted uneasily before him. “The judge granted bail. Fifty thousand dollars.”
Trace surged to his feet. “And where did Parker get that kind of money?”
“Hell if I know.”
Parker was out. On the streets. “Have you told Skye?” Trace demanded.
“I called her.” Alex inclined his head. “I wasn’t overly worried that she’d go out and beat the crap out of the guy, though. I figured that was more your department.”
Right. “And that’s why I warranted the private visit.”
Alex’s gaze dipped to Trace’s hands. “I can’t help but notice that nice bruising you got on your knuckles. You know, Parker never stopped spinning the story about you breaking into his place and assaulting him.”
Trace forced himself to take slow, easy breaths. “You think I’m going after the guy again?”
“I think you needed a warning. Watch yourself, Weston. A jerk like Parker isn’t worth the trouble you can find heading your way.” Then Alex gave him a little salute and turned for the door.
But Trace wasn’t done. “Why did you bring Skye to Parker’s place yesterday?”
Alex glanced back at him. “Because she called me. She wanted to confront Parker, and she wanted me at her side.”
Trace’s heart raced faster.
“She was afraid of what might happen if you got to him before the cops did.” One brow crooked up. “Seems she knows you pretty well.”
She knew I was lying to her.
“Have you learned anything else about Ben Sharpe’s death?” Trace asked the cop.
“Ah, you mean since I’m actually a homicide detective now?” Alex gave him a grim smile. “It wasn’t a robbery gone wrong. The killer worked fast, and he worked efficiently. Obviously, it wasn’t his first kill. First kills are sloppy, unorganized.”
Trace waited.
“This kill was planned and deliberate. Someone wanted Sharpe out of the way.” A low sigh. “At least Sharpe didn’t suffer long.”
“You’re wrong,” Trace said, glancing over at the photograph on his desk. “He suffered for years, but his pain is gone now.”
He kept staring at that photograph, long after Alex left.
Alex had been watching him with a too-careful stare. You think I might have killed Ben Sharpe?
Did Alex realize that his alibi was bull?
Maybe…
His hand pushed into his pocket and he pulled out the dog tag. There should’ve been two tags. There always were.
He’d found one.
Where was the other?
Time to find out just where Parker had gotten this one.
Parker glanced over his shoulder as he hurried down the street. Were the cops still following him? He hoped that he’d given them the slip.
Bail. Freaking-A. He couldn’t believe that someone had actually ponied up the money for him.
He rounded the corner, and saw his benefactor waiting on him. Parker smiled. “Sure am glad to be seein’ you again.”
“You told me that Trace Weston would never give up his dancer.”
Parker blinked. The guy sounded angry. He took a quick step toward him. “Weston’s been obsessed with her for years. No way will he ever walk out on her—”
“You tried to kill them the other night.”
Parker’s lips snapped closed.
“That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“I got pissed, okay? Seeing them on the TV, all the freakin’ time. Why does he get so much attention?” While Parker had nothing. “Trace is trash. He should be the one in the gutter.” Instead, Parker had to fight for every single thing that he had.
Life hadn’t been easy. No damn way. After Trace’s attack, it had been so tempting to just pop those little pills that would take his pain away. Again and again, he’d taken them.
Then he’d taken other things.
Trace Weston had risen, and Parker had fallen.
“You want him to lose everything, don’t you?”
Parker nodded.
“And you’d do anything to see him fail?”
“Anything…” Parker immediately swore.
“Good.”
His partner—because they were partners, right? Partners in the destruction of Trace Weston—stepped away from the wall. The sounds of the city were muted there, barely trickling past the thick brick walls of the alley.
Parker smiled at him. “What’s our next step? What do we need to—”
A blade shoved into his chest.
A gurgle slipped from Parker’s mouth.
“You need to die, and the world needs to start seeing Weston for the monster that he truly is.”
Parker felt his blood spurt from his chest when the knife jerked back. “Y-you…”
The knife slashed toward his neck. Parker tried to lift up his hands, but it was too late.
He fell to the ground, unable to scream, as the blood poured from him.
“You should die happy, you know. You will help to destroy Weston.”
Then he dropped something onto Parker. But Parker didn’t feel the object connect with him. He didn’t feel much of anything then.