Mine To Take Part 23

He's dead.

She dropped to her knees. Mitch was still alive. She couldn't have that.

"Skye!"

She was still hearing Trace's voice. She'd finally gone crazy.

The voices came first. That was the way it had been with her mother.

The voices.

She liked hearing Trace's voice. Maybe being crazy wouldn't be so bad.

"f.u.c.k, Skye!"

Hands grabbed her, yanked her away from Mitch and- Now I smell him.

Trace's scent was rich and warm. Masculine. His arms were around her, squeezing her so tightly, and shudders racked his body.

A hallucination? It was so real and so wonderful.

"Love...you..." Skye managed to whisper.

"Baby, baby, I f.u.c.king love you! You're okay, I've got you, I've got you."

He was kissing her. Her face. Her cracked lips. Holding her so tightly.

"You're dead," she said, so sad about that. Because she'd wanted to see him again. Her Trace.

"No, no, I'm not! Skye, I'm real, and I'm right here."

She just stared into his eyes.

Fear burned in his gaze. "I'm here. Baby, baby, be here, too. Be here with me."

A groan came from behind her. Mitch. She hadn't finished killing him.

The image of Trace shook her. "I found you. You're going home with me. You're going to dance, and we're going to f.u.c.k and laugh and be happy. Do you understand? Do you-"

"No," Mitch's voice. Snarling. "You're not!"

She was thrown across the room. Ripped from the arms of her beautiful hallucination and tossed to the floor.

She'd used all of her strength. Skye couldn't rise.

More footsteps were thundering. Again, coming from upstairs?

Then Skye realized...A bas.e.m.e.nt. She was in a bas.e.m.e.nt.

Her hands flattened on the hard floor. Pinp.r.i.c.ks shot through her numb fingers.

"You're done." Trace lifted a gun. Pointed it right at Mitch. "You'll never hurt her again."

Mitch laughed. Laughed. "You're the one who hurts her. I keep her safe. I love her-" He lunged forward. There was a knife in his hand. The blade gleamed as it sliced right toward Trace's chest.

Not a hallucination. That's Trace. I could smell him. I could touch him. That's Trace.

She pushed to her knees. "No!" Skye tried to surge forward.

The bullet erupted from Trace's gun. It drove into Mitch's chest. But Mitch didn't stop his attack. He swiped out with his knife.

Trace fired again.

The knife sank into Trace's shoulder.

Trace fired. Again and again.

The knife dropped from Mitch's fingers.

Before Mitch could fall, Trace grabbed his b.l.o.o.d.y shirt-front. "I told you what would happen."

A gurgle came from Mitch's lips.

Reese burst into the room.

Trace shoved Mitch away from him. The doctor hit the floor. His eyes were closed. Blood covered him.

Skye was still on her hands and knees. She wanted to move toward Trace, but her body wouldn't listen to her. She couldn't move. "Trace!"

He lifted her into his arms. Held her close against his heart. "I'm here. I've got you."

She wanted to cry, but couldn't.

Wanted to scream, but her voice was gone.

She could only shake and shudder in his arms. Trace. Trace.

"Let me get her," Reese said, coming close to them. "Your injured...you shouldn't..."

"I've got her," was all Trace said. He carried her up the stairs.

Carried her through the old, dusted interior of a house. Then they were outside. Rain was falling. It pelted down on her, and it felt so clean. Good.

Not as good as Trace's arms.

He stood there, in the rain, just holding her. Police cruisers raced to the scene. An ambulance braked to a squealing stop.

Trace held her.

Alive.

Hope came back to her.

And her tears mixed with the rain.

Flowers covered the hospital room. Bright, vibrant colors. Enough petals to fill a florist shop.

The smell was heady.

The sight was gorgeous.

Skye wanted to get the h.e.l.l out of there.

She'd been pumped with an IV for way too long. She wanted freedom. She wanted- The hospital door opened. Trace stood there. The lines near his eyes were a little deeper. His face was grimmer than it had been when she first walked into his Chicago office.

His eyes were different, too. Still as blue. Still as bright.

But now she could see the love there. He wasn't hiding that from her any longer.

"Ready to go?"

She was more than ready.

He pushed a wheel chair into the room. "Your chariot."

Her brows climbed.

"They won't let you go without it. But don't worry, Reese is waiting right outside for us." He lifted her. Let his hands linger as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "This place will be a memory soon." He eased her into the chair.

Trace started to push her toward the door.

She caught his hand. "What happens next?"

He bent near her, putting their eyes on level. "I take you to our suite at the hotel. I f.u.c.k you until some of this d.a.m.n fear leaves me." His gaze searched hers. "Then I spend the next fifty years making you as happy as I can."

"Fifty years," she whispered. "That's a long time."

"Not long enough. I figure it's just a start for us."

He pushed her into the hallway. She couldn't help but tense. I'll always hate hospitals.

"I'm with you."

He knew, of course. There were no secrets between them. Why should there be?

The sunlight was bright outside. Reese waited, as promised, standing beside the vehicle.

"You look good, Ms. Sullivan," he said giving her a quick nod.

Considering that the last time he'd seen her, Skye knew she'd looked like death, so, well, anything should be an improvement over that. "Thank you, Reese. You look good, too."

He winked.

Trace eased her into the car. Buckled her seat belt. Took her hand in his.

Reese drove them away from the hospital. Skye didn't look back.

"Just so you know...we found out that Mitch's alibis were, of course, bulls.h.i.t. He'd been getting interns to cover for him, and threatening to have them kicked out of the hospital if they didn't do exactly as he ordered."

"He liked control," Skye said. Control over his interns...control over me.

The car slowed. Turned right.

"My agents did more digging. They found out that Mitch Loxley had a history of...getting too close to some of his patients. That was why Dr. Loxley worked in five different hospitals since his residency. He liked having women...need him."

I will be the one you need. The only one.

"He said he saw me dance." Sleeping Beauty. A helpless victim, until she woke.

"He can't ever hurt you again," Trace promised. His fingers tightened around hers. "No more fear, Skye, it's over."

She didn't speak while Reese drove. Too much emotion had built within her.

When they got to the hotel, they were immediately ushered up to their suite.

It was both familiar and foreign to her.

She walked to the window. Gazed down at the busy street.

Trace's hands curled around her shoulders. "Tell me what I can do. Tell me what I need to do so that you can forget."

His voice was ragged, rough, and when he turned her toward him, she saw that his mask had fallen away.

They were alone, and she was seeing him as he truly was.

Fear and anger were in his eyes. So much fear.

He wanted her to forget, but she couldn't. Wouldn't.

She'd never forget the days of darkness and hunger. Fear. Terror.

But the starvation hadn't broken her.

Mitch hadn't broken her.

The thought of Trace, dying-that broke me.