“I think you like my darkness, Skye. Because it’s so damn different from what you are.”

She wasn’t some kind of light to his dark. She’d never seen him that way. Actually, she saw things very differently.

He should see my darkness.

“You know what I’m capable of doing.” His gaze seemed to see right into her. “I almost killed for you when I barely knew you. And now…now you know I would kill for you. In an instant, with no hesitation.”

She didn’t want to think about what he might do. “I didn’t…I didn’t come looking for you because I wanted you to kill someone.” That wasn’t who she was.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, and there was doubt in his deep voice. “Are you very, very sure? Think about it, Skye. Just what is it you want me to do to this man who is after you?”

The plane bumped a bit. Her hands clamped down on the armrests. “I want him stopped. I don’t want him dead.”

“If he was the one who caused your wreck, if he tried to kill you…do you truly believe I’d just turn him over to the cops?” His gaze swept over her face. “You know me better than that.”

She couldn’t speak then. Because he was right. She did know him better than that. He might look like the successful businessman, but there was a primal intensity to him. Just below the surface, waiting to break out.

He nodded. “Now you see me, and I see you.”

***

Her dance studio was going to open tomorrow. Skye stood in the middle of the cavernous room, her gaze sweeping across the mirrors that cast her reflection right back at her.

No more broken glass. Trace’s men had taken care of that for her. There were no flickering lights. And every time the front door opened or closed, the new alarm system gave a reassuring beep.

“Are you all done for tonight, Ms. Sullivan?”

She glanced toward Reese. Trace had insisted that Reese stay with her while she made all of her last minute prep work at the studio. And she certainly wasn’t going to deny that having the guy with her had been reassuring.

Because she’d been afraid when she first stepped inside the studio.

But I won’t let him make me afraid. The studio was important to her. It was her dream, her chance at having a new life.

“I’m done.” She was. The floor sparkled. The barres were all in place. Her new students would come in to a perfect dance studio tomorrow.

A small start. That was her plan. To begin with a few classes and grow this place into the best damn dance studio in Chicago. She could do it.

I will do it.

She approached Reese with a determined smile. “Thanks for all of your help.”

He inclined his head. “Anytime.”

She had to laugh at that. “I doubt that you usually provide guard service at a dance studio.”

“You’re a special case for the boss. What matters to him…” Reese shrugged. “It matters to me.” He glanced down at his watch. “He’ll be meeting you soon.”

It had been almost twelve hours since she’d last seen Trace. He’d had his work to attend to, she’d needed to see to her studio. And…

I wanted some distance.

Because he’d left her shattered after that ride on the plane.

She headed out with Reese. Pausing for a moment, Skye reset the alarm. Then they were outside. The night air wasn’t as cool as it had been a few days before.

A quick glance around the area showed her that only Reese’s car was in the parking lot. Everything was dark and still and—

Skye groaned. “I forget my bag. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He grabbed her arm. “No, ma’am. That’s not the way it works. I’ll go back inside with you.”

“You don’t—”

“Boss’s orders. Where you go, I go.”

Right. She spun around and marched back toward the door. She unlocked the door and her fingers flew over the alarm pad. Reese was right at her back.

The door beeped when they slid inside. All of the lights turned on instantly.

“Just give me a minute!” She called over her shoulder as she rushed inside. “I left my bag—”

The lights shut off.

No, no that wasn’t supposed to happen. Trace had hired electricians to fix the circuit breaker.

She spun back around. “Reese!”

Thud.

She stilled.

A groan reached her ears. Her breath choked out. “Reese?”

He didn’t answer her.

She didn’t move. Not a single step.

Then she heard something else. It sounded like—like water being poured out. Water?

“R-Reese?” She called again. The alarm hadn’t sounded anymore. The system had just given that one beep when they’d gone inside.

Did we shut the door? Reese had been behind her. She’d rushed ahead, thinking he would shut the door.

Had he?

The water kept pouring around her. She took a deep, frantic breath and realized that wasn’t water.

The acrid scent told her it was gasoline.

“No!” Skye shouted and ran forward. “Reese!” She tripped over something. Something soft and warm, and Skye careened to the floor. Her left leg twisted, and pain shot through her.

Her hands flew out. She touched a hard shoulder. Hair. “Reese?” Her fingers skimmed over his face and head, and she felt the sticky wetness of blood.

A light flickered in the darkness. A match. “I will be the one.”

That voice chilled her.

The match flew through the air.

Then the fire ignited.

***

Trace slammed his Jag to a stop and jumped from the vehicle. His eyes were on the studio—on the horrifying orange and gold flames filling that studio.

“Skye!” Trace roared her name.

Reese’s car was to the left. Empty. There was no sign of the other man or Skye.

Don’t be in the fire. Don’t.

But then he heard the faint cry of— “Help me!”

Skye’s voice. Coming from the fire.

He ran for the building even as the windows shattered and glass flew out at him.

The main door was open, smoke billowing from it. He rushed inside, heading straight into the smoke.

Flames lit the scene. Skye was on the floor, coughing, and struggling to pull Reese’s unconscious body toward the door.

“Help me,” she cried again as he looked up. Tears streamed down her face. “I-I can’t get him on my own!”

Because Reese was three times her weight. The fire had circled in close to Skye’s skin. Too close. Trace grabbed her around the stomach. Yanked her away from Reese.

Get Skye to safety. Get her out.

She screamed and struggled against him. “No, I have to help Reese!” But Trace just held her tighter. The fire was too close. Trying to scorch across her skin.

He ran outside with her. She was still coughing. She’d been in the smoke and fire too long.

As soon as he put her down, Skye immediately tried to run back for the building.

He grabbed her and yanked her right back. “Don’t move.” The words were torn from him. Fear and rage beat in his blood, a deadly combination.

Her eyes swam with tears. “He’ll die! We have to get him out—”

“I’ll get him,” he swore. “But you have to stay here.” He had to know that she was safe.

Skye nodded.

He ran back to the fire. He rushed inside the building. The fire had spread even more, the greedy bitch that it was. The flames lapped just inches from Reese’s feet.

He grabbed his friend. Pulled him up. Tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. We’re getting out of here.

The breath in his lungs burned. The place was getting too hot. He took a step toward the door.

The ceiling fell down, coming right at him.

***

“No!” Skye yelled when she saw the flames burst through the top of her studio.

Trace hadn’t come back out. He’d gone into the flames to get Reese.

And he just expects me to stay out here? While he faces the fire?

She couldn’t do that. Not for another second. Too much time had already passed. He should have been back.

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 asshole 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.”