chin toward the door. “I’ll be outside. I’ve been trying to pick up a trail that I can follow, but the snow isn’t helping.”
He knew Max meant a scent trail, but had been careful not to say anything suspicious in front of Skye.
“Watch your back,” he muttered, worried that the assholes they were dealing with might still be close. And still not even sure what they were dealing with. Yeah, the apartment had that same musky odor that the other abduction sites had had. But did that mean that the bastards had already taken Vivian? Or was she on the run for her life, after managing to evade them? From what Max had told him, and the way his partner was acting, he knew that Vivian was in trouble. He just didn’t know exactly how bad that trouble was.
“Just don’t let her back in the roommate’s bedroom,” Max added in a low voice as he passed by him, obviously trying to make sure that Skye didn’t overhear the quiet words.
Elliot tensed in response to the look on Max’s face. “Why?”
His partner just shook his head again, a muscle pulsing in the hard edge of his jaw. “You’ll know when you fucking see it, man.”
“I don’t trust him,” Skye said in a hoarse rush, as soon as Max had shut the front door behind him.
Walking over to her, he murmured, “He’s good people, Skye. I promise. Max is just pissed that Vivian gave him the slip.”
“She’s...cautious,” she whispered, blinking at the moisture gathering in her eyes. “It would have freaked her out to know he was asking questions about her, instead of just talking to her.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
She suddenly started kicking at the debris on the floor, like she was trying to uncover something, then dropped down on her knees, rummaging through the books and broken bits of furniture with a desperation that had him coming a little closer and crouching down beside her. “What are you doing, honey?”
“Our phone! I need to find our phone so I can call her.”
Elliot helped her look, and quickly found the cordless unit under what looked like the torn material of a sofa cushion. She gave him a grateful look as she took the phone from his hand, then quickly punched in the number. Her hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, her big eyes glistening with tears she was barely holding back. “Damn it,” she croaked, shooting him a tortured look. “I don’t think her phone is turned on.”
“We’ll keep trying,” he said as gently as he could, taking the phone from her and helping her back to her feet. “But we can’t stay here, Skye. I need you to go back to your room with me, and then you need to pack a bag. Okay?”
But she was in her own little world at the moment, and he didn’t even think she’d heard him.
“Why would s-someone do this?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end from the tears that had finally started pouring down her face.
“I don’t know.” Looking around, it broke his goddamn heart to see how hard the two girls had worked to make this place as pretty as they could. Yeah, the outside might have been shit, but they’d put a lot of time and effort, if not money, into making the inside as nice as possible. The walls had been painted a pale gray, and it definitely had that shabby-chic look to it that his friend Sayre seemed to love so much. Cheap tables had been painted with chalkboard paint, and had had what looked like quotes written in a beautiful script across them. He wished that they had the time for him to fix the pieces, fitting them together like a puzzle, so that he could read their messages, curious about what his girl found important enough to make a permanent part of her home.
But they’d already spent far more time there than was safe.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out and taking her cold hand. He kept his movements easy and smooth as he led her from the room, not wanting to spook her. “Let’s get that bag packed.”
Though there were three closed doors in the hallway, it was easy to tell which one was Skye’s by simply searching out her scent. He quickened his pace, opening her door and dragging her into the untouched bedroom, grateful that she couldn’t detect the scent of blood coming from her friend’s room the way he could.
Elliot hoped like hell that Vivian Jackson was okay—but it was becoming harder to hold on to that hope with each second that ticked by.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Skye whispered, drawing his gaze as she opened her closet door and pulled down a big backpack from the top shelf. She set the bag on top of a weathered white dresser, then started rummaging through the drawers, throwing in what looked like an assortment of jeans, T-shirts and sweaters.
Bracing himself against the wall behind him, Elliot kept up a constant lecture in his head. One that basically went along the lines of how he needed to keep his shit together and that even though he was in her bedroom, surrounded by her so-perfect-it-killed-him scent, he needed to suck it up and stay strong. What he couldn’t do was let his hunger get the upper hand on him. Or keep stealing heated glances at the double bed she had pushed into the far corner of the room, imagining what she would look like spread out over the pale gray sheets, her beautiful body completely bare to his burning, greedy stare, while her heavy gaze begged him to touch her...to claim her.
Time and place, man. Time and place. And this is neither!
“That’s all for in here,” she said, clutching the bag to her chest as she turned to face him. “I just need to grab a few things from the bathroom, and I’ll be done.”
Holding her wide-eyed, fear-filled gaze, Elliot pushed off from the wall and slowly crossed the room to her. She blinked up at him as he took the bag from her trembling hands, hooking one of the straps over his shoulder. Then he leaned down, a hitching breath surging past her lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his lips against her smooth, silky skin. “I wish like hell that this wasn’t happening to you.”
She hiccupped as she reached up and grabbed two fistfuls of his Henley, and he could feel how hard she was trying to be brave. “You’re so strong, Skye, and I know you can handle this. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone.”
She clutched at him tighter, the sound of her soft voice as she whispered his name making his throat and chest burn with emotion. Knowing he needed to stay sharp and get her out of there, he forced himself to stand straight and reach for one of her small hands again, holding it tight in his. Then he headed for the door, pulling her along behind him, and out into the hallway, relieved that they were almost on their way. But then she suddenly pulled her hand from his grip and lunged for Vivian’s door.
“Skye, don’t!” he shouted, as she quickly twisted the doorknob. “You don’t want to go in there.”
“I have to, Elliot.” She turned her head to the side, a shattered but determined expression on her face as she glanced up at him. “Please don’t try to stop me.”
He cursed under his breath, but damn it, this was her apartment. As badly as he wanted to protect her, he didn’t have any right to tell her what to do. Not when it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. And going into the room wasn’t something that could kill her. It was just going to cause her a shitload of pain, and he hated it.
Then she opened Vivian’s door, and the most unholy scream he’d ever heard a woman make came
