Mine To Take Part 22

Reese glanced over his shoulder. "Maybe it is the ch.o.r.eographer, Wolfe, maybe he's..."

"I've got two agents on Robert Wolfe. They are watching him twenty-four, seven." Just in case. "And now, you and I are going to take over the watch on Loxley." Because his gut told him to stay close to the doctor.

He'd taken her pictures away. Packed up the office.

And the man in the video-that d.a.m.n grainy video that Trace had watched again and again-he'd expertly injected Skye with that needle.

No hesitation.

The man who'd killed Carol had known just where to shove his knife. Known just how to twist that blade to cause maximum damage.

A doctor would know.

Trace headed toward the back of the building.

Waited.

When Loxley rushed out of the hospital ten minutes later, Trace was still waiting.

The doctor hopped into his car.

Sped away.

"Now it's your turn to be stalked," Trace whispered.

Footsteps.

They tapped across the floor, coming at a slow, steady pace toward her.

Skye was on the floor. She didn't have the strength to stand any more.

My wrists are bleeding again.

The footsteps kept coming closer.

Skye didn't move. She thought that perhaps she might just be imagining that sound. For days, she'd only heard- Her heartbeat.

Her screams.

"Who..." Skye tried to ask...Who's there? But she couldn't get the words out. Her throat had closed up. She couldn't even cry anymore.

"It's all right," his voice told her, whispering in the darkness. "I've got you."

Then she felt something against her lips. Something wet and cool and so wonderful. She choked at first as the water poured over her lips.

"Easy. I'm going to take care of you..."

She gulped the water. Drank and drank.

Her stomach cramped. Her throat convulsed.

The water spilled from her lips. Over her shirt.

"Open your eyes, Skye."

They were closed? She blinked and the light hit her. Too bright and hard and she couldn't see anything clearly.

He was before her. A big, hulking form. Blurry.

"I'll get you cleaned up," he promised her.

Because she was filthy and b.l.o.o.d.y.

But I'm not dead.

"I will be the one you need. The only one. I will be the one who takes care of you from now on. You don't have to worry about anyone else. No director telling you that you're eating too much, that you need to work out more, to practice more..."

Robert?

"I knew you hated that life."

She still couldn't see him clearly. Her eyes just wouldn't focus with that sudden light.

His voice was husky and low, as if he were talking to a lover.

Is that what I am to him?

"I would come and watch you dance. Not just at your shows, but during rehearsal. I knew you needed me..."

The water was gone.

She tilted her head back. Stared up at him.

"Sleeping Beauty...finally waking up to see me."

Skye shook her head. "Not...Sleeping Beauty..." His features were sharpening, coming into focus before her.

"You're my Beauty. And I'll be the one to wake you up. The one who gives you life." He'd pushed the water away. The container spilled, and water poured over the floor. "Or death."

She could see him now. Skye stared into his face. Looked straight into the eyes of a man who was crazy.

As crazy as he'd accused her of being.

"There's no going back now," Mitch Loxley told her, "I've got you."

The windows of the brownstone were boarded up. A giant KEEP OUT sign covered the front entrance.

"Yeah, yeah, got it," Reese said into his phone.

Trace glanced over at him. The weight of his gun pressed into Trace's side.

"The brownstone is in a cousin's name. That's why it didn't come up when we did a property search for Dr. Loxley."

Because Trace had gotten his team to look up any and all properties tied to Mitch Loxley.

But his agents had come up with nothing.

Not anymore.

Trace had known that if he got close enough, if he taunted the guy, if he pushed him far enough, Loxley would break.

But he might try to take Skye with him when he shatters.

"The cops are on their way," Reese continued, voice roughening. "We should wait-"

Trace pulled his weapon from his holster. Thunder rumbled overhead. "No, we shouldn't." Because he knew Skye was in that place. Scared. Hurt?

He was getting her the h.e.l.l out of there.

I'm coming, baby, I'm coming.

Chapter Ten.

Mitch's fingers slid over her cheek. "I was so mad at you. When you went back to him..."

She shuddered. Nausea rose in her stomach. "Don't..."

"You called me by his name. When I touched you, you called for him." His hands slid under her chin, and he shoved her head back. She hit the pole. The impact had her moaning.

"You were my Beauty, and you went to him. After all I'd done...I was the one to heal your leg. I was the one at your side when you walked. I was the one-"

"Who...made me...have the wreck?"

Her brakes...Alex had said...

The nausea deepened. Skye was afraid she'd pa.s.s out.

Mitch smiled at her. Terrified her. "It was the only way to get your attention. I couldn't see you after the shows. I tried. Again and again. Beauty needed her hero to wake her up. I was there, and you couldn't see me. I had to find a way to make you see me."

He was a freaking doctor. He shouldn't have- "I was supposed to find you that night. Not him. He was always there. Always between us." Mitch's fingers dug into her jaw. "But not anymore. Weston is dead."

Something shut off inside of Skye at those words. She could actually feel the change sweep through her.

Her heart stopped racing.

The nausea faded.

The fear vanished.

If Trace was gone, what happened next didn't matter.

"You...killed..." Skye whispered.

"I shot him in the heart because he tried to take you away from me. That wasn't happening. That wasn't ever going to happen. You belong to me."

Mitch pulled away. Fumbled in his pocket. "I'll take the cuffs off. I'll get you cleaned up, and then we're going far away from this place. Starting over..."

And he'd said she was the crazy one.

Skye's body stayed perfectly still as he uncuffed her. She'd long since lost feeling in her fingers.

He rose. "Come on, Skye."

"I-I can't stand."

Silence. Then he reached down for her. He put his arms around her and lifted her up. "See, I can take care of you." His breath blew lightly over her cheek as he shifted her body to the right.

Her eyes closed. His scent filled her nose. Disinfectant.

Death.

Skye swallowed. "I don't...want you...to take care..."

Gla.s.s shattered. She heard the sound, coming from...above them?

Mitch tried to jerk away from her.

She held him tighter. He killed Trace. "I want..." Skye gathered her strength. Every last bit of it, and she thrust her body fully against his. "I want you...to die..."

The weight of her body sent him falling back, and this time, his head slammed into that metal pole. The crack was loud and wonderful and so perfect to her ears.

Footsteps thundered, sounding close.

"Skye!"

Trace's voice.