Part 21 (1/2)

But she did. Skye f.u.c.king vanished.

Two days pa.s.sed, and the cops didn't find her.

”He was clever,” Reese said as he guided Trace into the car. They were at the hospital's exit. Finally. The doctors hadn't wanted him to leave the hospital.

f.u.c.k what they wanted.

He'd tried to leave the day before, and he'd torn open his wound. Blood had spurted and the nurses had sedated him. Again.

”The guy kept his face averted from the cameras,” Reese told him, ”and he had a surgical cap and mask on the whole time.”

Trace slid into the car. The fresh st.i.tches in his chest pulled, but he ignored the pain.

He could only focus on one thing then-Skye.

Reese slid into the front seat. The car eased into traffic.

”The cops think she's already dead.” Trace had heard the whispers when Alex got his updates. As soon as they'd hit the forty-eight hour mark on Skye's abduction, the cops had stopped looking for a live body.

”It's...it's been a long time, Trace,” Reese said softly. ”A lot can happen during all those hours...”

Trace's hands fisted. He didn't want to imagine what had happened to Skye. ”She's okay.” He had to think that way. Had to think of her being alive. Because if he let the fear take over...I'll lose my d.a.m.n mind. ”I'm going to find her.” He'd already rea.s.signed every agent that he had.

Finding Skye was their priority. He'd been pulling the strings and starting the search for her even when the doctors had been sewing him back up.

Reese slanted a fast glance his way when the vehicle stopped at a red light. ”We've got eyes on the ch.o.r.eographer and the doctor in NY. Both guys have been going to work, business as usual for them.”

It wasn't business as f.u.c.king usual.

”If one of them had her...the guy would still be with her.”

If she's alive. Trace heard the words that Reese didn't say.

”Could just be that it's not them. Her stalker could be anyone.” Reese kept talking as he drove them through the Chicago streets. ”Some freak who saw her dance and fixated on her.”

Trace's gaze slid to the window. ”I want the plane ready to depart within the next two hours.”

The car braked at another red light. ”Boss, you know that you're not clear to travel. The doctors didn't want to let you out-”

”We're going to New York.” Because that was where the nightmare had started for Skye. ”Have the plane ready.”

The killer had aimed for Trace's heart with that bullet. The bullet had missed its target, barely.

But when the SOB had taken Skye...

You cut out my f.u.c.king heart.

He wanted his heart back.

He'd get it back.

The handcuffs cut into Skye's wrists. She'd lost track of time again. She'd tried counting the minutes before, a little trick to try and stay sane, but it hadn't helped.

There was no light. Only a complete darkness. It was cold. So cold there in her prison.

Her wrists had stopped bleeding. She'd thought that the blood might help her slip out of the cuffs.

It hadn't.

Her lips were cracked. Broken. Her stomach ached, but at least it had stopped growling.

She hadn't eaten. Hadn't been given a drop to drink.

She'd been taken. Then...left.

Forgotten in the dark.

She'd tried yelling before. Screaming. She'd screamed until her voice had broken.

Her hands were looped around some kind of thick, metal pole. She'd kicked it and kicked it. Jerked and pulled.

Nothing.

He's just going to leave me down here. Until I starve.

It would be a slow death.

Death in darkness.

She tried to look through the dark. To see beyond it. Skye didn't want this to be her last memory.

She wanted to remember Trace.

Trace.

He'd find her, eventually. She didn't doubt that. If he'd survived that gunshot. He had to survive. He had to.

Trace would heal. He'd get out of the hospital. Then he would look for her.

She hated to think about what he would find.

”Janie, make sure that Mrs. Summer gets her medication before-”

Dr. Mitch Loxley broke off, choking.

Because Trace had just wrapped his hand around the p.r.i.c.k's throat.