Mine to Keep (Mine 2)

“I kept my mother up the longest. I told her that I wouldn’t let go, no matter what happened.” Pain darkened his eyes. “And I was still holding her, when the rescue teams finally came in. They pulled her from my arms, and I realized then that she’d been dead for hours.”

She couldn’t just stand there. Not with that much pain in his voice and his eyes. Skye stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

At first, Noah didn’t move. He seemed stunned.

“I know, I probably stink to high heaven,” she said, trying to lighten that pain, “but sometimes, we just need a touch.” To say that we’re not alone.

His arms lifted and closed around her. “I envy him,” he said again. His voice rumbled against her. Then he let her go, and he headed for the door.

When Noah was gone, Skye glanced around her studio.

Noah was lost. She’d been that way once. So scared and alone. Then she’d found Trace.

Or had he found her?

Rolling her shoulders, she turned away from the wall of mirrors. Another class would be there in a few hours. She needed to get ready to go for them.

And she needed to figure out what she was going to say to Trace when she saw him again.

She hadn’t slept the night before. Just been in the dark, in that narrow bed, thinking about him.

Her phone rang then, the soft tone instantly alerting her because it was his ring tone.

Skye hurried over to the desk she’d set up. She grabbed the phone. “Trace—”

“He needs you.”

The voice was low and raspy. Definitely male. But…it didn’t sound like Trace. “Who is this?”

“Don’t you want to help him?”

Despite the sweat still drying on her, Skye felt chilled.

“The alley is just a few blocks away from you. Hurry. Go fast. Maybe you’ll save him.”

She didn’t move. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Look for the art. He had a killer view.”

The call ended.

Skye pulled the phone from her ear. This was crazy. She immediately tried to call Trace back.

She just got his voice mail.

So she dialed his office. A direct line that should’ve connected her to him.

Voicemail.

What was going on?

Maybe you’ll save him.

Skye grabbed for her bag. Her pepper spray waited inside.

She rushed from the studio. Glanced to the left, then the right.

There was an art shop just four blocks away. She took off running. Maybe this was just some ridiculous prank.

Or maybe Trace needed her.

Her feet pounded over the cement. She dodged some pedestrians, barely paused at the stop lights, then, finally, she could see the sign for the art shop.

And, just beyond the shop, she glimpsed the little alley on its right.

Her hand dove into her bag. Her fingers closed around the pepper spray. Armed, Skye crept into the alley.

The scent hit her. Old garbage. Rotten food. And—something else. Something that sent an instinctive shudder through her.

“Trace?” Skye called. “Trace, are you there?”

Her phone rang then, vibrating—and peeling his ring tone.

She jerked and her left hand drew the phone out of her pocket. All the while, she kept a steady hold on her pepper spray. Her fingers swiped across the phone’s screen. “Listen,” she snapped. “I’m here and—”

“What?” Trace voice. Distinct. “Skye, where are you?”

“The alley.” Her words were quiet. She took another step forward.

She saw the foot then. A sneaker clad foot on the ground.

“What alley? Why are you there?” Trace demanded. Then, almost instantly, “Skye, get out of there, now.”

But it was too late.

Because she’d seen the foot, and she could also see the blood.

Bile rose in Skye’s throat as she stared down at Parker. His shirt was soaked a dark red, and his neck bulged open, a gaping smile of red where his throat should’ve been.

He was dead. She knew he was dead, but Skye still found herself dropping to her knees beside him. “Parker?”

“What?” Trace’s roar.

She dropped the phone. Skye leaned toward Parker. His eyes were closed. His face was ashen. And that terrible smell…