She leapt forward.
Sirens screamed behind her.
She was at the door, running inside because she was getting to Trace. Only—
He was right in front of her. “Told you…” Trace growled, “stay out of the fire.”
He had Reese thrown over his shoulder. She and Trace ran from the building. Fire trucks streaked toward them.
Trace put Reese on the ground. Trace’s clothes were smoldering as he bent over his friend. “Come on, buddy, don’t do this…”
Reese started coughing.
“Hell, yes,” Trace said.
An EMT jumped from the back of an ambulance and hurried toward them.
Skye glanced over her shoulder. The fire fighters were pulling out their hoses, but there wasn’t much they could do to save the studio.
Fire had engulfed the place.
The EMTs strapped Reese onto a gurney. They pushed him toward the back of the waiting ambulance. One of the EMTs tried to take Skye’s hand.
She pushed him away. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t take her gaze off that fire. The firefighters were trying to contain it so that the blaze didn’t destroy the other nearby businesses. Businesses that—luckily—had been empty at this time of night.
The crackle of the flames filled her ears. Reese could have died in that fire. She’d been pulling him, straining with all of her strength, but she’d only been able to move him a few feet.
The fire had been so hungry. So hot. So wild.
I will be the one.
Reese could have died, because of her.
The ambulance’s back doors slammed closed. The siren screamed once more as it raced away with Reese.
“What in the hell…” Trace began as he closed in on her, “happened here?”
“That’s just what I wanted to know,” Alex Griffin said as the detective stepped right in front of Skye, blocking her view of those terrible flames.
Alex? She hadn’t even seen him arrive. But Skye glanced around the scene and saw that several police cars were there now. It looked like they were setting up some kind of perimeter.
“Ms. Sullivan,” Alex continued, clearing his throat, “wanna tell me what just happened?”
A fire just happened. Can’t you see it? Big, freaking huge, destroying my dreams.
“He was here.” Skye barely recognized the hollow voice as her own. “He set the fire. T-tried to kill me and Reese.”
And if Trace hadn’t been there, the bastard might have just succeeded.
The flames rushed into the sky, lighting the night.
The smoke drifted in the air, and Skye watched her dream burn away.
***
The fire gutted the studio. It burned and burned and even the fire fighters couldn’t seem to do anything to stop his flames.
Skye watched the fire.
Stared at it with lost eyes.
And he, in turn, watched her.
I had to punish you.
After what she’d done, Skye had needed to be taught a lesson.
As the smoke drifted into the air and the fire fighters finally backed up, he smiled.
He was pretty sure that Skye wouldn’t be forgetting this night anytime soon.
Now you’ll always think of me…the way I always think of you.
Every. Fucking. Moment.
Chapter Six
“You saw no one?” Alex demanded as he paced the small interrogation room.
Interrogation.
Trace sat with his legs sprawled in front of him. The detective had been insistent that Skye come in to the station for an interview after the fire. Trace hadn’t been about to let her out of his sight.
Because every time I do, something happens to her.
He could still smell the flames, probably because the damn smoke was in his clothes. The fire had singed him. When the ceiling had caved in, he’d had to dive fast and hard to the right. Another few inches, and both he and Reese would have been trapped. Dead?
His breath exhaled slowly. He had gotten out of those flames, and he’d carried Reese to safety.
His friend was going to be okay. But if Trace had arrived at that studio just little bit later…
“I didn’t see anyone,” Skye said softly. “But I heard him, pouring gasoline.”
“How do you know it was gasoline?” Alex stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes on Skye.
She ran her hand through her hair. A black smudge slid across her right cheek. “The smell. It’s pretty unmistakable, don’t you think?”
He stared back at her.
Trace cocked his head. This was a colossal waste of his time. “Shouldn’t you be out, detective, looking for the ass**le who did this? From my count, that’s an arson and an assault, all within a few days.” Attempted murder, more like.
Alex’s lips tightened. “You didn’t see him?”
“The lights were out.” Skye shook her head. “I only saw the flash of his match, then I heard his voice.”
Trace tensed. She hadn’t told him this part, not yet.
“What did he say?” Alex pushed.
“The same thing he said before.” She was too pale. “I will be the one.”
“You didn’t recognize his voice?” Alex yanked out the chair on the opposite side of the table. He spun it around, then sat down, draping his arms over the chair’s back. “He wasn’t familiar to you, at all?”
“He was rasping, whispering.” Her shoulders rolled. “So, no, I didn’t recognize his voice. I still don’t know who this guy is or why he’s doing this to me.”
Alex’s fingers tapped against the chair. “You think he’s the same man who caused your accident in New York?” Then he reached forward and opened a manila folder that was on the table. He shoved some stark, black and white photos across the table.
Photos of a totaled vehicle. Skye’s car.
She was trapped there.
He looked up from those photos and found the detective’s gaze on him. “While you were away on your little trip, I did some more digging,” the detective said.
Good. I’m glad you’re doing your job.
“I talked with a detective Fuller in New York.” The detective glanced over at Skye. “He said you were sure someone had forced you off the road.”
Skye nodded.
Trace pushed the photos back toward the detective. “We just talked to Fuller, too. The guy didn’t buy Skye’s story—”
“Because there was no evidence of anyone else at the crash scene. No paint from another car. No sign of a rear impact.”
“My car…” Her voice was too cold for Trace as Skye said, “Rolled four times. It was smashed like a damn can. There were signs of impact all over the place.”