Page 4 of Tracing Her Stolen Identity (Secure Watch #2)

Reece slowed the truck and turned left into an area where the houses were separated by acres of land. Each property butted up to Paul Bunyan State Forest on one side and Leech Lake on the other. It was an area of anonymity if he’d ever seen one.

It had been a two-hour drive he’d done in near silence.

A glance to his left told him Sky was still asleep.

He’d pretended not to notice when she pulled straps from her bag and placed them around her thighs and calves.

Without looking at him, she explained it kept her legs from falling open, which was uncomfortable on her hips, and then she’d promptly leaned against the window and gone to sleep.

At least she pretended to, but she’d been awake for the first half hour.

He knew, because he’d often notice her eyes pop open to see what he was doing.

It was probably the same thing she was doing: trying to forget all the time they’d spent together as kids but unable to stop the memories—both the good and bad.

They had been thick as thieves growing up.

Not only did they live next door to each other, but all four of their parents were coworkers at a large manufacturing firm in town.

They ran, biked and played together. He was an only child, and Sky was the younger of two, but her brother, Silas, was already six by the time she was born, so they didn’t have a lot in common.

Skylar was younger than Reece by three months and three days, but you’d never know it by how she bossed him around when they were kids.

Her bossiness had always embarrassed her mom, but Reece loved it.

He always said she wasn’t bossy. She just knew what she wanted and how she would get it.

There was something to be said about a girl with gumption, as far as he was concerned, and it had paid off for her.

She had built an art empire, even if she didn’t see it, and knowing Skylar the way he did, she didn’t see it.

She had always been driven to be better than she was the day before, which had kept her motivated to perfect her art.

Reece always thought it was strange that he’d had such a close relationship with Skylar as a kid.

Their interests were so vastly different, but it never seemed to matter.

Sky loved art—any art, from nature paintings to clay pottery.

He loved playing cops and robbers, always fascinated by anything true crime-related.

He loved comic books that told crime stories, and Sky, being who she was, loved to draw a choose-your-own-ending for the books just in case he didn’t like how the original one ended.

A smile lifted his lips at the memory. Everyone had always said they were as close as brother and sister, but Reece never agreed.

His feelings for Sky had never been brotherly.

They’d been something else. Something deeper that he couldn’t explain.

And then the accident happened, and everything changed.

Skylar had always been a sweet, beautiful, talented young girl, but now, she was a knockout.

When he laid eyes on her holding that door open, her ice-blue eyes terrified, he’d lost the ability to breathe for a split second.

At twenty-one, she had been thin and sickly, still recovering from the accident at seventeen, but the last decade had changed all of that.

She had curves now, and he wanted to run his hands down them to feel her again.

To connect with her again in a way that would settle his soul for the first time in a decade.

She wore her blond hair in a ponytail, swinging side to side as she moved the chair around.

She had always worn her hair up, and the few times he’d seen her with it down as a teenager always did something to his lower half that gave him internal embarrassment.

He shouldn’t feel that way about the girl he’d grown up with, right?

He’d asked himself that question almost daily in high school, but the answer had never been that simple.

A mailbox came into view, and Reece slowed the truck as he counted off the numbers until he found 1993 Cherry Hill Lane. 1993. That jogged his memory to earlier when she’d written down her phone passcode.

1 1 1993.

He’d been a New Year’s baby as 1993 dawned, making his birthday January 1. He hadn’t registered it then, but now the number hit him right in the gut. Did she purposely use his birthday as her passcode?

She shifted as though she knew he was thinking about her and blinked her eyes several times. “Where are we?”

“At a safe house owned by Secure Watch.”

Her arms went up in the air as she stretched, and he forced his gaze away from how her chest jutted into his space. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About two hours,” he answered, turning down the driveway and hitting a button on his truck console.

“Secure Watch, Riker.” They used the same greeting each time they made contact with each other.

If they ever got a communication from a team member who didn’t use the code greeting, they knew that the team member was under duress and to send help.

“Secure Watch, Whiskey.”

“Mina, we’re at the house.”

“Garage in three, two, one,” she said as the garage door opened. Reece couldn’t hold in his laughter as he shook his head.

“Thanks, Mina. I’ll be in touch as soon as we’re settled.” He hit the button again on the console to hang up and pulled into the darkened garage, his headlights illuminating the space around them.

“That’s high-tech,” Skylar said, glancing at him. “Is she going to shut it, too?”

He held up his finger until the overhead door slid back down behind the truck.

“Yes,” he answered with a wink. “The house has digital passcodes to lock and unlock the doors and open the garage. Mina has unlocked everything,” he explained as he shut off the truck.

“Once we’re inside, she’ll turn the passcode and security protocols over to me.

If anyone breaches the security system or cameras, then Secure One takes control of the house to keep the occupants safe until they can get out. ”

“As I said, high-tech.” She lifted a brow at him, and he shrugged.

“Secure One and Secure Watch are in the security business. It’s what we do, and considering Secure One’s track record with picking up cases that end up putting team members in danger, Cal stopped taking chances with his people.

He now has places all over the area to stash people who need safekeeping. ”

“ Safekeeping. That’s a nice way of saying hiding out, I suppose.” She worked at one of the Velcro straps holding her thighs together.

“Life is always about how you look at things, Sky.” He winked. “Wait here while I grab your chair.”

“Where am I going to go?” she asked, her head tipped sideways until he did a facepalm that brought laughter to her lips.

“Sorry, habit. I’ll be right back.”

Reece slid out of the truck and stretched his long legs for the first time in hours.

The ride had been uneventful, and he hoped his time here at the safe house would be equally so.

At least until Mina could tell them who this Binate person was.

He’d do his own digging while they waited, and with any luck, he’d have Skylar back home and out of his life by tomorrow.

Would that be his luck, though? He’d lived the last decade holding on to the occasional glimpses he’d get of her from a newspaper article or a clipping his mom would send him about her artwork.

He’d always assumed that one day when his Google Alert went off about Skylar Sullivan, it would be because she had made it big.

Not because she was wanted for vandalism.

The thought struck him, and he grabbed his phone.

After he opened the alert again, he checked the date of the warrant.

It had been issued forty-eight hours ago.

She was out of town then, so the police would have waited for her to return to the city.

He tucked his phone back in his pocket and grabbed the wheelchair.

As of forty-eight hours ago, Skylar Sullivan had still existed.

That was an essential part of the timeline.

He lowered her wheelchair to the ground and pushed it to her side of the truck.

His truck was twice the size and height as hers, so he’d had to lift her from her chair into the seat when they left.

The sensation of having her in his arms again almost short-circuited his brain.

She was soft, warm and smelled of lemons and tangerines.

Whatever the scent was, it was a far cry from the overpowering perfume she wore in high school.

This new scent fit her aura. She was always about nature and the soothing vibes it offered.

He’d noticed the soft, breezy linens in her home also reflected that.

It was like Skylar Sullivan had come into her own while he’d been away, and it excited him to think he’d get the chance to know her again.

The door cracked open, and she peeked out. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

His daydream broken, he jumped and stepped forward, nearly tripping over the chair but righting himself at the last moment.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat as though it would be as easy to clear his mind of thoughts of her.

“I was checking something on my phone. I’ll tell you about it once we’re inside. ”

He moved in to scoop her up and noticed she’d unstrapped her legs while he was getting her chair.

Guilt lanced him. It had been fourteen years, but he remembered every second of that night in slow motion.

He relived those seconds in his dreams at least two or three times a week.

If he was overtired or saw something that reminded him of her, he braced himself for the dreams to come.

The Friday night lights. The crowd loud and rowdy.

The breeze on his face as he grabbed her waist, ready to lift her into the air.

He gave his head a shake and cleared his mind of those memories.

She’d admitted she trusted him, and he wouldn’t let her down this time.

He lifted her off the seat with a smile and cradled her against his chest. He’d been right. Her curves were soft, and when she’d thrown her arms around his neck, his chest tightened, reminding him that Skylar Sullivan still had a hold over him.

Wishing he didn’t have to, but knowing he did, he lowered her into the custom manual wheelchair.

It looked new and fit her like a glove. The seat reclined slightly, which he knew would make it easier for her to remain upright in the chair, since not all her abdominal muscles worked after the accident.

Her legs were supported at the calves by a strap, and her footplate was tilted just enough to account for the tilt in the seat back.

The custom backrest wrapped around her ribs to offer her support there, and the wheels were thin, black and, if he had to guess, fast. Sky always loved to go fast, whether on a bike or his go-cart.

The frame and back of the seat were painted bright white, and he’d noticed on the way out to his truck earlier that the front rollerblade wheels lit up in rainbow colors with every turn.

What he loved the most was the floral overlay on the frame.

He ran his hand over the decoration, surprised when it was raised under his fingers.

“I painted it,” she answered as though she knew his question. “That’s why I went with a white frame. I needed a blank canvas to do my work. Otherwise, white would be a bad choice living in a city where it’s impossible to keep it clean half the year,” she added with a wink.

“Stunning work,” he said, standing and slamming the truck door. “I thought it was a decal, but I should have known better.”

Her laughter lit up the garage as though night had turned to day. “You really should have,” she answered as she wheeled up the ramp.

Reece pushed the door open for her from behind the chair, and she wheeled into their home away from home. As he brought in their bags and shut the back door, he realized how true that statement was about too many things concerning Skylar Sullivan. He should have known better.