Damn, he needed to find out if a second kiss would be just as good.
“Hm.” She looked like she didn’t believe him.
Which was fair enough. Irene had heard all the stories.
He turned back to his phone and sent Sky another text.
Becket: Come on, you can admit I’m sexy. I won’t tell anyone.
He was about to set his phone onto the table when Sky’s response came through.
Sky: I think someone’s in my house.
The mug almost slipped from his fingers as every fucking muscle in his body locked.
Becket: Get out.
“What’s wrong?” Irene asked, straightening.
“I need to go. Can you call Moose in to replace me?”
“Sure. But is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
Becket tried Sky’s number as he ran to his car. When it rang out, acid churned in his gut. He pulled out of the parking lot and called his brother.
“Becket, I’m just in the middle of something, can I—”
“Someone’s in Sky’s house and now she’s not answering.”
“What?”
“I need you to get to her now.”
Wind rushed over the line, like his brother was moving. “I’ll be there in three minutes.”
Becket hung up and pressed his foot to the floor, dialing Sky again.
Still nothing.
Fuck. Was this the asshole breaking into houses?
It took him too fucking long to get to her house, then he raced to the front door.
Locked. He could pick a lock, but it would take too long.
His gaze zeroed in on the group of potted plants near the front door. One by one, he quickly lifted them. A spare key was under the fifth pot. He grabbed it.
The door was barely open when he saw her—Sky lay on her back at the bottom of the stairs, completely still.
His heart shot into his throat, and he raced forward and dropped beside her. When he touched her pulse, a light thud beat beneath his fingertips. Good. He lowered his ear to her mouth. A whisper of air moved between her lips.
Thank God.
Gently, he cupped her cheek. “Sky? Can you hear me?”
A small feminine groan slipped from her throat. Her eyes scrunched as she tried to roll to her side.
