Is something going on between you and my husband?
Taken completely off guard, Skye hadn’t known how to answer. She’d finally come up with, Your husband? Last I heard, you were divorced.
We’re still trying to make it work. We don’t need you getting involved and destroying that. There’s a child to consider.
Why had she answered the phone? She wasn’t trying to destroy anyone, least of all David’s son.
The office phone rang, causing her to glance over her shoulder. But this time Skye didn’t even move close enough to check the caller ID. She didn’t want to speak to anyone. Tonight, the whole world felt hostile.
Damn you, Oliver Burke. Damn you to hell. Without him, her life would’ve been completely different. Before that night, she’d been a happy, confident, carefree young woman. She’d had no fear of anyone. But Oliver had left more scars than the one on her face.
She fingered the raised bump that followed the arc of her cheekbone. If it weren’t for Oliver and what he’d done, she probably would’ve been married by now, started a family…
Her cell phone chimed in her purse. Evidently, whoever had just called the office was looking specifically for her. But she couldn’t bring herself to move away from the window.
When the chiming stopped, the office phone started again.
“Go away,” she muttered. Then, more exhausted than she could ever remember being, she forced her legs to carry her over to the couch, where she lay down below the portraits of the killers that faced her every day.
“Why do you do what you do?” she asked them, ignoring the persistent ringing.
A lack of caring? A lack of empathy? That was what the professionals said. Skye suspected there was more than that, but she wasn’t sure exactly what. No one was. She only knew that Burke had changed her life irrevocably.
Finally, whoever was calling gave up, and she was able to close her eyes. The warmth provided by her coat felt like a protective cocoon. If only she could sleep for a few hours…
But it wasn’t twenty minutes later that she heard someone at the door.
Trying to get in.
The interior of The Last Stand was dark, which made David uneasy because Skye’s Volvo was in the lot. If she wasn’t here, where was she? She wasn’t answering the office phone, her cell phone or her home phone, even though Sheridan and Jasmine had both told him she’d gone to the delta house to get some rest.
Standing in the harsh glare of a motion-activated floodlight, David continued to pound his fist against the door, hoping to draw her out from some inner sanctum, a break room, conference room or kitchen. After the frightening call she’d received earlier in the week, he didn’t like not being able to get hold of her. But his knocking brought no response.
“Skye, it’s David,” he shouted. “Are you in there?”
Silence.
“Skye?”
She wasn’t around. But she couldn’t have gone far. It wasn’t all that long ago that Lynnette had been talking to her on the phone.
His pulse raced as he turned around and stared at the busy street. She wouldn’t have walked anywhere. She knew better than that. Or maybe not. The way she could handle a gun made her feel safe.
He gazed at the fast-food restaurant across the street. There wasn’t anyone in the place. It was closed, except for the drive-through.
He was about to drive to the delta house—to see if she’d gotten a ride with someone else—when a light finally snapped on.
Closing his eyes for a second, he told himself to calm down. She was fine. He could see her coming toward him, but she looked more like the shocked, disillusioned woman he’d met in the hospital than she had in three years.
When the lock clicked, he swung the door open before she could even touch the handle. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer right away. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” she said, but he could tell that wasn’t true. She was having a bad night—and he wasn’t sure how much of her misery could be attributed to Lynnette, which meant it came indirectly from him.
“Something’s wrong,” he said.
She reached into her pocket and handed him a piece of paper.
When he’d read it, he understood. “Who gave you this?”
“A man at a restaurant.”
He wanted more details. But not here. “Come on,” he said, still holding the door.
She blinked in surprise. “Where’re we going?”
“To my place.” He knew it was crazy to take her home, especially now that Lynnette was suspicious of their relationship. But Skye was so busy trying to help every victim in Sacramento she wasn’t taking proper care of herself. And with Burke getting out…
The dark smudges beneath her eyes testified to the fact that she was exhausted. “When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” he asked.
She shrugged. “You know how it is. Places to go, people to see.”
He wanted to run his hand over her cheek, cup her chin and promise to make everything all right. But he knew he’d kiss her if he did—and his decision to do the right thing by Lynnette stopped him.
“Let me stand guard tonight, okay?” he said softly.
Her eyes connected with his, and although he could sense how weary she was, she straightened her spine. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle this.”
“I know you can.” Taking her hand, he rubbed the fine bones above her fingers. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could allow himself. “This way, maybe I’ll be able to get some sleep myself.”
A smile curved her lips. “Okay. I’ll do it for you.”
He chuckled as he led her outside. “Thanks for the favor.”
Fresh from a hot shower, Skye sat at David’s kitchen table, wearing a T-shirt, a pair of boxers and his robe. He still had the note she’d given him earlier and seemed engrossed by it. She sipped the glass of wine he’d poured to help her relax—and it was obviously working because she was now distracted by the contours of his body, apparent beneath his Gold’s Gym T-shirt and worn jeans. Unfortunately, she was even distracted by the clothing he’d lent her. The T-shirt and boxers were right out of the laundry, so they smelled of soap, but the robe hadn’t been washed in a while. She could tell because it smelled just like him.
“Who could this guy be?” He frowned as he pushed the paper into the center of the table.