“I think you like my darkness, Skye. Because it’s so damn different from what you are.”
She wasn’t some kind of light to his dark. She’d never seen him that way. Actually, she saw things very differently.
He should see my darkness.
“You know what I’m capable of doing.” His gaze seemed to see right into her. “I almost killed for you when I barely knew you. And now…now you know I would kill for you. In an instant, with no hesitation.”
She didn’t want to think about what he might do. “I didn’t…I didn’t come looking for you because I wanted you to kill someone.” That wasn’t who she was.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, and there was doubt in his deep voice. “Are you very, very sure? Think about it, Skye. Just what is it you want me to do to this man who is after you?”
The plane bumped a bit. Her hands clamped down on the armrests. “I want him stopped. I don’t want him dead.”
“If he was the one who caused your wreck, if he tried to kill you…do you truly believe I’d just turn him over to the cops?” His gaze swept over her face. “You know me better than that.”
She couldn’t speak then. Because he was right. She did know him better than that. He might look like the successful businessman, but there was a primal intensity to him. Just below the surface, waiting to break out.
He nodded. “Now you see me, and I see you.”
***
Her dance studio was going to open tomorrow. Skye stood in the middle of the cavernous room, her gaze sweeping across the mirrors that cast her reflection right back at her.
No more broken glass. Trace’s men had taken care of that for her. There were no flickering lights. And every time the front door opened or closed, the new alarm system gave a reassuring beep.
“Are you all done for tonight, Ms. Sullivan?”
She glanced toward Reese. Trace had insisted that Reese stay with her while she made all of her last minute prep work at the studio. And she certainly wasn’t going to deny that having the guy with her had been reassuring.
Because she’d been afraid when she first stepped inside the studio.
But I won’t let him make me afraid. The studio was important to her. It was her dream, her chance at having a new life.
“I’m done.” She was. The floor sparkled. The barres were all in place. Her new students would come in to a perfect dance studio tomorrow.
A small start. That was her plan. To begin with a few classes and grow this place into the best damn dance studio in Chicago. She could do it.
I will do it.
She approached Reese with a determined smile. “Thanks for all of your help.”
He inclined his head. “Anytime.”
She had to laugh at that. “I doubt that you usually provide guard service at a dance studio.”
“You’re a special case for the boss. What matters to him…” Reese shrugged. “It matters to me.” He glanced down at his watch. “He’ll be meeting you soon.”
It had been almost twelve hours since she’d last seen Trace. He’d had his work to attend to, she’d needed to see to her studio. And…
I wanted some distance.
Because he’d left her shattered after that ride on the plane.
She headed out with Reese. Pausing for a moment, Skye reset the alarm. Then they were outside. The night air wasn’t as cool as it had been a few days before.
A quick glance around the area showed her that only Reese’s car was in the parking lot. Everything was dark and still and—
Skye groaned. “I forget my bag. I’ll be right back, okay?”
He grabbed her arm. “No, ma’am. That’s not the way it works. I’ll go back inside with you.”
“You don’t—”
“Boss’s orders. Where you go, I go.”
Right. She spun around and marched back toward the door. She unlocked the door and her fingers flew over the alarm pad. Reese was right at her back.
The door beeped when they slid inside. All of the lights turned on instantly.
“Just give me a minute!” She called over her shoulder as she rushed inside. “I left my bag—”
The lights shut off.
No, no that wasn’t supposed to happen. Trace had hired electricians to fix the circuit breaker.
She spun back around. “Reese!”
Thud.
She stilled.
A groan reached her ears. Her breath choked out. “Reese?”
He didn’t answer her.
She didn’t move. Not a single step.
Then she heard something else. It sounded like—like water being poured out. Water?
“R-Reese?” She called again. The alarm hadn’t sounded anymore. The system had just given that one beep when they’d gone inside.
Did we shut the door? Reese had been behind her. She’d rushed ahead, thinking he would shut the door.
Had he?
The water kept pouring around her. She took a deep, frantic breath and realized that wasn’t water.
The acrid scent told her it was gasoline.
“No!” Skye shouted and ran forward. “Reese!” She tripped over something. Something soft and warm, and Skye careened to the floor. Her left leg twisted, and pain shot through her.
Her hands flew out. She touched a hard shoulder. Hair. “Reese?” Her fingers skimmed over his face and head, and she felt the sticky wetness of blood.
A light flickered in the darkness. A match. “I will be the one.”
That voice chilled her.
The match flew through the air.
Then the fire ignited.
***
Trace slammed his Jag to a stop and jumped from the vehicle. His eyes were on the studio—on the horrifying orange and gold flames filling that studio.
“Skye!” Trace roared her name.
Reese’s car was to the left. Empty. There was no sign of the other man or Skye.
Don’t be in the fire. Don’t.
But then he heard the faint cry of— “Help me!”
Skye’s voice. Coming from the fire.
He ran for the building even as the windows shattered and glass flew out at him.