She felt the same way.
He lifted his hands, as if he’d touch her, but then he hesitated. “They’re not my kills.”
She studied his eyes, searching desperately. She’d been able to see his lie before, but this time, Sky just wasn’t sure. He’s too good at hiding from everyone, even me. “I can’t tell when you’re lying or when you’re telling the truth. There should be some sign, right? I should know?”
“They’re not.”
“You lied about your alibi at the time of Sharpe’s murder.”
“I told you, I was back here. You were sleeping.”
“And…I tried to call you before I found Parker’s body, but you didn’t answer me. Not on your cell, not on your office’s private line.”
His jaw hardened.
“You weren’t in your office, Trace.” That had been another lie.
“I wasn’t in the alley killing Parker!”
Her gaze fell to the dog tag. “I didn’t hesitate. When I saw that on him, right in the middle of all that blood, I took it.” Her arms wrapped around her stomach. “What does that make me?”
The violent image was there again, rising fast in her mind. Parker’s head, sagging back against the dirty ground. The blood thick around him. A twisted smile where his neck should have been.
And I touched him. I took the tag from the hole above his heart.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image wouldn’t fade. Nausea built, and she tried to fight it. Again and again and again.
She couldn’t.
Skye ran for the bathroom. Trace called her name, but she slammed the door shut behind her.
***
Trace stood in front of the bathroom door. “Skye?” He jiggled the knob. She’d locked it. “Baby, let me help you.”
“Go away.” Her voice was soft.
“I want to help you.” Trace felt as if he were tearing apart.
“Don’t, Trace. Don’t.”
He backed away. Forced his gaze off the door.
The damn dog tag waited. Trace grabbed it, smoothing his fingers over the letters of his name. This tag should’ve been in an icy grave.
Maybe I should’ve been in that grave with it.
The tag wasn’t buried, and neither was his past.
He heard the rush of running water. His shoulders tensed. Skye would be coming back.
I have to tell her.
His fingers were trembling. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was always rock-steady. Never hesitating.
He’d been dead-on in battle. In the boardroom.
His business was secrets. Protecting them. Exploiting them.
He’d kept his own secrets so well over the years. But Trace knew with utter certainty that if he didn’t tell Skye everything, he would lose her.
The dog tag was a message.
The bathroom door opened. Light spilled behind Skye. “I wash and I wash my hands,” she said, sounding a little lost. Not at all like Skye. “But I just can’t seem to get all the blood off.”
He dropped the tag. Went straight to her. He caught her soft hands in his. “There’s no blood on you, baby.”
Her head tilted back. Her hair had come loose from the knot at the base of her neck. “If it’s on yours, then it’s on mine. What touches you…” Her smile broke his heart. “It touches me, too.”
I realized today…I would do anything for you.
The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought you’d killed Parker, and do you know what my first instinct was? To protect you.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“What does that say about me? If I’d steal evidence from a dead man’s body, then what else would I do for you?”
Everything.
The answer was there, stark and chilling between them.
“I can’t live like this.” Grim finality had entered her voice. “You were right. I-I should’ve seen someone after the attack. My mind’s jumbled. The nightmares won’t stop, and I’m not even sure who I am anymore.”
“I know who you are.” The only woman he’d ever loved.
She pulled away from him. “I can’t do this.”
No, no, she had to do this. But she was walking away from him.
“I’m very good at killing, Skye.” Those weren’t the words he’d meant to say. They sure as hell weren’t words that were going to reassure her. “The military taught me how to be good. How to get close to the enemy. How to take out my prey swiftly and silently. My main job was infiltration. Infiltration and hostage rescue.”
Rescue of military personnel who’d been taken by the enemy. Rescue of dignitaries. Of rich corporate CEOs who’d been taken because they’d been at the wrong place. Because they’d trusted the wrong men.
Some of those rescued men had been grateful. They’d remembered him when he left the military. They’d jumped at the chance to use Weston Securities for their corporations.
He’d kept their secrets.
But he was spilling his own.
“I saved lives, but I took lives, too. The lives of the enemy, the captors who’d taken the hostages.” Tell her. “And the lives of-of those on my team who turned against us.”
Very slowly, she faced him again.
He hated the strain on her face. His past had done this to her. “I thought it was better if you didn’t know.” He looked at his hands. “I still have the blood here, and you know the only time I ever feel clean? It’s when I’m touching you. You make me feel like I can be someone else.” And not just the lie that he presented to the world.
“You’re telling me this now?”
“You need to know.”
She shook her head, hard, and the last of her hair broke free from the knot, tumbling around her shoulders. “First I get that crazy phone call. I-I thought it had to be Reese, wanting me to help you, and then—”
He zeroed right in on that. “What phone call?”
“I race to that alley. I find him—”
“What phone call?” Trace snarled.
She stumbled back a step.
“Skye.” He tried to soften the harshness of his tone. He failed. “Please. What phone call?”
“Your number. It was your ring. Your number on the caller ID. But the voice didn’t sound like you.”
Fear was a living monster inside of Trace.
“He told me to go to that alley. That you needed me. That I had to help.”
“And you went?” Claws ripped at his insides.