Mine to Take (Mine #1)(8)

Trace crossed his arms over his chest. He’d moved back so the doctor could work on Skye, but he hadn’t been about to leave the small exam room. He wasn’t in the mood to let Skye out of his sight.

“We’ll need you to stay overnight for observation,” Dr. Denise Bond told Skye as she lowered her light. “It’s a precaution in a situation like this—”

“No,” Skye said, her immediate denial cutting through the doctor’s words. “I’m going home.”

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous a concussion could be.” The doctor spoke carefully, still in that soothing bedside manner that some docs managed so easily. “Brain injuries are unpredictable. Your concussion appears mild now, but what if you have a seizure in the middle of the night? What if you fall…is there someone at your home that can help you?”

Skye’s green gaze darted to Trace, then back to the doctor. “I-I’ll be fine.”

She’ll be alone.

The doctor glanced back at him.

“I’m the patient,” Skye reminded her. Trace rather liked the snap of anger in her voice. Before, Skye had been afraid. She’d been shaking when he first rushed inside that studio.

Reese should have been taking better care of her. The agent had screwed up.

No, I screwed up. I should have kept her closer. Too much time had been wasted.

“Are you…involved with the patient?” The doctor asked him, obviously trying to figure out his relationship with Skye.

He nodded. She didn’t need to know more. “She won’t be alone.”

Some of the tension eased from the doctor’s face. “You’re going to need to keep her awake. Monitor her through the night.”

“Trace…” Skye began.

“Consider it done,” he said.

The doctor nodded, looking grateful. “I’ll go prepare discharge orders.” But then she hesitated. “You will keep a close eye on her?”

“The closest possible,” Trace promised.

The doctor hurried from the room, and Trace headed toward the exam table. He locked eyes with Skye. Forgot about the doctor. “This is the way it will play out. You come with me, or you spend the night here.”

Bright spots of color stained her cheeks. “I’ve been inside hospitals long enough. After the accident, I had weeks of therapy. I can’t stay here.”

His hands pressed into the exam table on either side of her. “Then you’re coming with me.” She’d been the one to walk into his office. To return to him. He wasn’t about back away now.

“He’s accelerated,” Trace told her as he leaned in close. The room smelled like antiseptic, but she smelled of sweet vanilla. He was close enough to see the gold in her eyes. “He snuck past my guard. He got to you. He hurt you.” Trace barely held back his fury. “I’m not leaving you on your own until that SOB is off the streets.”

A knock sounded at the door then. He glanced over his shoulder.

“This is Detective Alex Griffin!” A voice called. “Skye, I need to talk with you.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed. He’d been wondering when the local boys in blue would be showing up.

“He’s the one who’s been handling my case,” Skye murmured. “The doctors…they must have called the police in.”

“You were assaulted.” Trace knew the notification would have been standard protocol.

“I guess he has to believe me now,” she said, voice tense.

His gaze cut back to her. Skye was clad in a one of those green paper hospital gown. She looked so fragile sitting on that table. Her eyes were huge. Her hair a dark curtain around her face.

“Skye!” The detective called again.

And, before she could respond, the guy began to open the door.

Trace moved quickly so that when the door opened, he was right in the cop’s path.

Alex Griffin jerked to a halt when he saw Trace. “Who the hell are you?”

Trace’s brows rose as he studied the detective. In his early thirties, light blond hair, fit, and with a dark stare that heated a little too much when it peered over Trace’s shoulder and focused on Skye. The guy immediately put Trace on edge. “I’m Skye’s friend,” he said simply, but Trace knew the other man would hear the note of possessiveness that roughened his voice.

Alex stepped around him. Seemed to focus totally on Skye. “Are you all right?”

Her smile was forced. It barely lifted her lips. “Just a bump on the head. I’ll be fine.”

Then the detective actually reached out to her and curled his hand around hers.

Trace tensed. What the hell kind of police work was that? The detective was far too cozy with Skye, especially for a guy who hadn’t believed her story about a stalker.

“The attack changes things,” Alex told her as his fingers skimmed over her knuckles. “This is an assault. I can get a team at—”

“My team is already at her studio,” Trace said as he returned to Skye’s side. The detective was still holding her hand. Still staring at Skye with far too much interest. Still pissing Trace off to an alarming degree. “But your officers are certainly welcome to join the hunt.”

“Your team?” Alex repeated as his brow furrowed. Then his stare—a muddy brown—was back on Trace. “I didn’t catch your name.”