“I couldn’t see him.” Her stare darted to Trace. “But I could feel him. He was strong, and he was big…about Trace’s height. His body curved over mine when he—he held me against him.” Her voice broke a little.
Trace wanted her out of that room. He wanted her in his home, where he could protect her.
“Did he say anything to you?” Alex pressed. “Did you hear any kind of accent in his voice? Did he—”
“No accent.” She shook her head. Winced a little. “He was just whispering to me.”
Alex stilled. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘I will be the one,’” she told them, her voice husky. She blinked quickly, as if fighting tears. “That’s all he told me, okay?” Those words came out rushed. “That he’d be the one. Then Trace’s agent came rushing in and—and the guy let me go.”
“After he slammed your head into the glass,” Trace added, the words tearing from him.
“No, actually, he slammed my head into the glass before he gave me his little promise.” She curled her arms around her stomach. Stared up at Trace. “Please take me home,” she said. “Take me home with you.”
Hell, yes.
The doctor and a nurse headed into the room then. The doc glanced Trace’s way. He inclined his head. “I’ll make sure she’s safe tonight.” Every night.
He and the detective headed out while the nurse helped Skye change. Trace would have been more than happy to do that job himself—seeing Skye nude was one of his favorite things—but he needed to clear the air with the detective.
And it seemed the guy wanted to clear the air with him, too. As soon as the door closed behind them, Alex spun toward Trace. “What’s your game?”
He let his brows rise. “I’m not playing a game.”
“Two days ago, Skye told me that she wasn’t involved with anyone. She didn’t have any family in the city, no close friends…” Alex exhaled roughly as he glared at Trace. “Now you’re standing here, saying you’re her ‘old friend’ and taking her home for the night.”
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing. Wasn’t the detective observant? “Skye doesn’t like hospitals. After her accident in New York, I think that’s understandable.” He didn’t like to think about her accident. Didn’t like to remember—
“I’ve heard about you, Weston.”
Good for the detective. “Most people in Chicago know about me…”
“You’ve got money, a freaking ton of it from all accounts.”
Yes, yes, he did. He’d come a long way from being the poor kid on the streets.
“And you’ve got dangerous connections.”
“Safe connections aren’t any fun,” he murmured.
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You’re high profile. You take the big cases. You don’t sign on as some woman’s bodyguard.”
If the detective kept pushing, he’d find out just how hard Trace could push back. “This isn’t some woman,” Trace said. Time for his turn to talk. “This is Skye, and, I assure you, where she is concerned, I am very involved.”
“You weren’t two days ago,” Alex fired back.
“Two days ago…” Trace exhaled slowly and fought to chain his anger. “That would have been back when you were patrolling, doing your circles around her place.”
“Yes,” Alex hissed. “I’ve been trying to protect her—”
“And now I’m here to help you do that job.”
“You looked like you were here to f**k her.”
The words were low, hard. Jealous?
Trace stepped toward the detective. The fellow was close to his height, and even though he was a cop, he had a soft look to him that told Trace this man hadn’t seen nearly enough darkness in his life.
I’ve seen plenty.
Enough to appreciate the light that came his way.
Alex pointed his index finger at Trace. Bad move—that’s the way to get that finger broken. “I’ve got a woman being stalked,” Alex snapped, “an attack on her—and suddenly, I have a new guy—wait, sorry, an ‘old friend’—who has just entered the picture. Two days ago, she said that she had no one.”
He kept harping on the two days bit. “She has someone,” Trace told him, keeping his voice flat with a monumental effort. “And until the SOB after her is caught, Skye be staying with me. So if you need to contact her,” he gave him a hard smile, “come find me.”
The door opened behind them. Skye was seated in a wheelchair, and she sure didn’t look happy. “They said I had to go out in this thing.” Her hands lightly hit the wheels. “Some kind of hospital rule.”
“Liability issue,” the doctor said. “I told you, it’s—”
“Standard. Right.” Skye’s hands rose and clenched in her lap. Her frantic gaze locked on Trace. “I need to get out of here.”
“Baby, I’ve got you.”
And he did.
He moved behind the wheelchair. Pushed her carefully. The wheels spun on the chair.
“Skye!”
The detective was a dick, and he’d just snapped Trace’s last nerve. Did the fellow realize that, with just one phone call, Trace could have the guy writing parking tickets? Doing traffic patrol?
Or sitting bench at desk duty?
Alex hurried around them and stopped in front of the wheelchair. “Just how long have you known Weston?”
Skye swallowed. “Since I was fifteen years old.”
Alex leaned toward her. His voice dropped, but Trace heard him clearly as he said, “I asked you to tell me about any ex’s that you might have in town. Someone who might have a hard time letting go…”
Skye shook her head. “Trace never had trouble letting go.”
Alex’s stare swept to his.
He knows.
It was easy to recognize need, lust, in another man’s eyes.
Behind the cop, Trace saw Reese striding down the hallway toward them. Trace inclined his head toward the cop. “Make sure the detective has our contact information, Reese. Skye’s going to be staying with me for a while.”
Her head turned toward him. “But I—”