Burke's impending release? It wasn't as if the papers had picked it up. Hell, he'd just learned last Friday. "If anything else that has to do with TLS or the three women involved in it comes in, please get in touch right away."
"Will do."
David hit the Off button, but he didn't pocket his phone. He shut the door so Lynnette couldn't hear him if she was home and dialed Skye's number. This was a business call; he didn't plan on saying anything particularly private. But he felt guilty whenever he contacted Skye.
"Hello?"
He doubted she'd been sleeping because she'd answered on the first ring.
"It's me," he said. "I heard about your caller."
"Jasmine told you?"
"She called the Marysville Boulevard station."
"Why? I told her I'm not within the city limits anymore."
"Does that mean you reported it to the sheriff?"
There was a long pause that told him what he'd already guessed. She thought she could handle it on her own. But that was crazy and reckless. She might overestimate her own strength and judgment, and the idea terrified him.
Shaking his head, he pictured Skye as he'd first seen her, in the hospital with forty stitches below her left eye. She'd also had several deep 50
cuts on her hands and forearms from trying to defend herself against Burke's knife. Just the memory of her injuries, and the disillusionment, was enough to strengthen his commitment to putting Burke away. She'd been so shaken, so fragile.
But she wasn't fragile anymore. The cut below her eye had healed into a thin scar, and the others were even less noticeable. Her body had gone through a sort of metamorphosis since the attack, too. She'd toned up, trading her soft curves for well-defined muscle. Now she was a convert to the gospel of health and fitness. But, as hard as she worked to make herself tough, there was still that sensitive core. David wanted to protect that, to vanquish the haunted look he saw in her eyes.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked, angry that he wouldn't have heard about the incident if Jasmine hadn't reported it. "When something like this happens, you need to let me know."
"Why?"
He remembered the way Burke had said her name. I know her better than anyone. Including you. He was still obsessed with her. "So I know what's going on!"
Her voice dropped. "Would you have come over?"
He knew better than to spend much time alone with Skye. If he went over there now, he wouldn't be able to resist taking what he so desperately wanted--taking what she'd willingly offer. And then he wouldn't be able to make a life with Lynnette, would never be satisfied with what his conscience dictated he had to do. "If it meant protecting you," he told her gruffly.
"I can protect myself," she said and hung up.
Frowning, David hit the redial button.
She let it ring several times, but finally answered. "What is it?"
"Call me the minute anything like that happens again. Do you understand?"
"Because..."
"Because I'm worried about you, damn it!"
"Be careful, Detective. That sounds like you're beginning to care."
Except for that one kiss, and the time he'd nearly spent the night, he'd been circumspect, kept her at arm's length. But she knew how he felt. She had to know. He couldn't look at her without wanting her.
"I've cared from the beginning," he snapped. "Sometimes you're all I can think about."
He hadn't made an actual admission before, but those words didn't seem to improve the situation. Maybe because they'd been spoken so grudgingly.
51
"You'd change that if you could," she said, the statement an accusation.
He didn't deny it. Surely it would be easier to fulfill his obligations to Lynnette and his promises to Jeremy if he didn't dream of making love to Skye. "Yes."
"And I'm supposed to be satisfied with that?"
He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's all I can give."
Click.
David nearly called her again. He wanted--needed-- something.
Closure. Understanding. Acceptance of his limitations. Concurrence that he was
"Will do."
David hit the Off button, but he didn't pocket his phone. He shut the door so Lynnette couldn't hear him if she was home and dialed Skye's number. This was a business call; he didn't plan on saying anything particularly private. But he felt guilty whenever he contacted Skye.
"Hello?"
He doubted she'd been sleeping because she'd answered on the first ring.
"It's me," he said. "I heard about your caller."
"Jasmine told you?"
"She called the Marysville Boulevard station."
"Why? I told her I'm not within the city limits anymore."
"Does that mean you reported it to the sheriff?"
There was a long pause that told him what he'd already guessed. She thought she could handle it on her own. But that was crazy and reckless. She might overestimate her own strength and judgment, and the idea terrified him.
Shaking his head, he pictured Skye as he'd first seen her, in the hospital with forty stitches below her left eye. She'd also had several deep 50
cuts on her hands and forearms from trying to defend herself against Burke's knife. Just the memory of her injuries, and the disillusionment, was enough to strengthen his commitment to putting Burke away. She'd been so shaken, so fragile.
But she wasn't fragile anymore. The cut below her eye had healed into a thin scar, and the others were even less noticeable. Her body had gone through a sort of metamorphosis since the attack, too. She'd toned up, trading her soft curves for well-defined muscle. Now she was a convert to the gospel of health and fitness. But, as hard as she worked to make herself tough, there was still that sensitive core. David wanted to protect that, to vanquish the haunted look he saw in her eyes.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked, angry that he wouldn't have heard about the incident if Jasmine hadn't reported it. "When something like this happens, you need to let me know."
"Why?"
He remembered the way Burke had said her name. I know her better than anyone. Including you. He was still obsessed with her. "So I know what's going on!"
Her voice dropped. "Would you have come over?"
He knew better than to spend much time alone with Skye. If he went over there now, he wouldn't be able to resist taking what he so desperately wanted--taking what she'd willingly offer. And then he wouldn't be able to make a life with Lynnette, would never be satisfied with what his conscience dictated he had to do. "If it meant protecting you," he told her gruffly.
"I can protect myself," she said and hung up.
Frowning, David hit the redial button.
She let it ring several times, but finally answered. "What is it?"
"Call me the minute anything like that happens again. Do you understand?"
"Because..."
"Because I'm worried about you, damn it!"
"Be careful, Detective. That sounds like you're beginning to care."
Except for that one kiss, and the time he'd nearly spent the night, he'd been circumspect, kept her at arm's length. But she knew how he felt. She had to know. He couldn't look at her without wanting her.
"I've cared from the beginning," he snapped. "Sometimes you're all I can think about."
He hadn't made an actual admission before, but those words didn't seem to improve the situation. Maybe because they'd been spoken so grudgingly.
51
"You'd change that if you could," she said, the statement an accusation.
He didn't deny it. Surely it would be easier to fulfill his obligations to Lynnette and his promises to Jeremy if he didn't dream of making love to Skye. "Yes."
"And I'm supposed to be satisfied with that?"
He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's all I can give."
Click.
David nearly called her again. He wanted--needed-- something.
Closure. Understanding. Acceptance of his limitations. Concurrence that he was
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