Trace of Fever (25 page)

She sensed Trace’s stillness, maybe even a little dread. He wanted to know her secrets, but he intuitively knew that the truths would be ugly.

“Murray not only raped my mom, he passed her around to his friends and let them all rape her, too. That lasted for about two weeks before she found an opportunity to get away.”

Tension suddenly gripped Trace. His arm around her back tightened. The seconds ticked by as the implications of what she’d said sank in. “You don’t know if he’s your father or not, do you?”

Priss shook her head. Years ago, she’d been ashamed
for what her mother had suffered, and how it had left her with no knowledge of her father. Later, she’d been wounded that anyone could care so little, be so cruel. And finally, when her mother began fading away from her stroke, she’d gotten angry.

The anger had saved her from despair, leaving her with a single purpose to focus her life.

Until she’d met Trace. She still wanted to kill Murray, but she also wanted to somehow protect the tentative relationship with Trace.

She doubted it was possible to do both.

“My mom never knew.” She tucked her face into his throat. “She didn’t want to know. For most of my life, she was scared to death of any man who tried to get close. When she knew she was dying, it took all her effort to tell me that not all men were monsters. She said she wanted me to be careful, to always be on guard, but she didn’t want me to live with her hang-ups.”

Quietly, Trace asked, “When did she tell you about Murray?”

“When I was fourteen. I was selfish and bitching about wanting to go to a public school, to date and have friends.”

“That doesn’t sound selfish to me at all. It sounds really normal.”

“For a normal kid, maybe it would have been. But that’s not me. Because of what Murray did to my mom, we could never be normal like that.”

Trace turned on his side toward her, and Priss ended up on her back. He smoothed her hair from her face, traced one of her eyebrows with his thumb. “You aren’t normal, Priscilla Patterson. You’re unique.” He kissed her, very soft and sweet. “Extraordinary.” Another kiss, this one lingering. “And exceptionally hot.”

Priss smiled. “The only other person to tell me that is Gary Deaton, and he just wanted in my pants.”

“I’ve already gotten in your pants, so you can believe me when I say it.”

“Maybe.”

A little sad, Trace braced himself over her. “So let me understand this. When you were an impressionable fourteen-year-old child, your mother told you that she’d been held captive by a madman and passed around sexually with his friends?”

It sounded horrible, even to her. “She had to tell me then, to make me understand why I couldn’t sneak off to parties or football games. And she had to know if any man looked at me too long, if anyone ever took my picture. She needed me to understand the risk, to know what could happen if anyone had ever found out about me, that I could be Murray’s daughter I mean.”

Though he didn’t look convinced, Trace kissed the top of her head. “I’ll kill him for you.”

He sounded so sincere, and so accepting of her dysfunctional childhood, that a smile bloomed in Priss’s heart. “Thank you.” She drew him down to her for a longer kiss, one he gladly accepted. “That’s sweet of you, but no.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sweet? I offer to kill a man and you think it’s sweet?”

“You wanted to kill him anyway. And so do I.” The hair on his chest fascinated her, so she concentrated on that. “You’ve never come right out and said so, but I’ve known for a while that you’re a good guy, Trace.”

He gave her a cautious survey. “I’m not sure that accurately describes me.”

“Of course it does. From the very beginning, you were making moves to protect me. When you kept my license, it was so that Murray couldn’t run a check on me, and
that was before you had any idea who I was or what I wanted. Everything you’ve done since then has been a balancing act of fulfilling what Murray expects of you, while at the same time trying to keep me from getting too involved.”

“As of this minute, you’re not involved, not in any way.”

If only that were true. For some, it’d be so easy to step back and let Trace do his thing. Especially since he did it so well. He would kill Murray, she knew that. But she couldn’t delegate the responsibility. She’d never be able to live with herself. “Sorry, Trace, but I’m involved up to my eyeballs. There’s no changing that.”

He sat up suddenly. “Wrong. It’s changed.”

Worry niggled up her spine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re out of it.” He took his watch off the nightstand and strapped it around his wrist. “I’ll tell Murray that you ran off, that I don’t know where you went. He won’t be able to find you, and after sending Helene after you, it’s a believable lie.”

“No.” She wouldn’t let him be this autocratic. She wouldn’t allow him to decide her fate—her
life
—for her.

He strode to the chair and picked up his slacks. “Jackson will take you to stay with Dare until I’ve wrapped up things here.”

Meaning after he’d killed Murray and all his cohorts. Panic squeezed around her. She didn’t want to be separated from him, and she didn’t want him to rob her of the vengeance she rightfully deserved. “No.”

He pulled on his T-shirt, now wrinkled. “You don’t get a say in this, honey. Sorry.”

The tightness in her chest made breathing difficult. Naked, irate, she left the bed to confront him. “You are not my keeper. You don’t get to make those decisions.”

“They’ve been made.” He didn’t look away from her. Something flickered in his eyes, something both dangerous and defenseless. His voice went hoarse. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Priss.”

She gulped back emotion. “It hurts me that you want to exclude me from this.”

The vulnerability left, replaced by a hard glitter. “You’ll get over it.”

Desperate to reach him, Priss said, “I feel the same way about you, Trace.” When he paused, she said, “About you getting hurt, I mean.”

He stepped around her to get his shoes. “You should realize by now that I can handle myself.”

“Because this is what you do?” Priss stormed after him, grabbing his arm and demanding his attention. “And that’s
what
exactly? Tell me what you do, Trace. Tell me why I should trust you to handle things with Murray.”

He went stony again, not answering, not even blinking.

Oh, God, this time his silence demolished her. “No, damn you.” She shook her head hard. “You can’t dictate things without telling me a single truth.” He wanted to take over her life without giving anything in return.

He caught her arms and bodily moved her to sit on the edge of the bed. Going to one knee in front of her, he said, “You want truths? Fine. I was in an old factory with Murray.”

As far as disclosures went, that was vague. “Why?”

“To beat the shit out of some scumbag buyer who dared to dicker price with him.”

“Oh.” Her heart pounded double time, part in relief that he was finally confiding in her, but also in dread for what she’d hear. There was something about Trace’s mood, something darker and edgier than usual. She knew
that whatever he told her, it wasn’t going to be easy to take. “A guy who would buy…women?”

“Yes.”

“And did you beat him?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Anyone involved with Murray deserved that, and more. “Go on.”

“After Murray sells the women…” Trace squeezed her hands. “The buyer stores them there at the factory. It’s used in part as a place for transactions, and to keep the victims locked up until he can get them sold individually.”

If she hadn’t been sitting down, her knees would have given out on her. Her vision closed in. “You left women there?”

“No.”
His frustration crackled in the air around them. “No, I wouldn’t…” He let that go. “The thing is, Murray mentioned that he’d kept women there long ago.”

No air could enter past the restriction in her throat. “Long ago.”

“Back when he was just starting down this road of human trafficking.”

Back when her mother was a young, innocent girl. Her gaze focused inward as she remembered her mother’s terror, a terror so strong that it became a phobia. For as long as Priss could remember, her mother lived in constant fear of being taken prisoner.

“I had Dare check it out, Priss, to see how long that factory had been shut down—”

“I remember you talking with him.”

Trace stood and paced away. “You’re smart, Priss. You know where this is going.”

She nodded, but since Trace had his back to her, he didn’t see. “Yes. You’re saying it’s possible that—that my mother was kept there. That place could be where he let
his friends have her. It could be where he forced her…to share herself.”

“Did she ever tell you?” He kept his distance, but did turn to face her again. “Did she give you details?” Before she could answer, Trace said, “Understand, Priss, I’m hoping she didn’t. I’m hoping like hell that she let you keep some of your innocence, some of your childhood. Those details…they aren’t something that a girl needed to hear.”

“I know.” When she shivered, Priss belatedly recalled her nakedness. She pulled the sheet around her.

“Priss?”

She looked down at her hands. No, her mother hadn’t spared her. She’d considered it all too important. She’d considered it for Priss’s own good. “I—I remember her telling me once that she was kept locked in a damp, windowless room with…brick walls.”

Hands on his hips, Trace dropped his head forward. “Shit.”

She stared toward him. “You think that’s the place?” If so, she would raze it. She’d take a wrecking ball to it. Not a single brick would be left standing….

“Priss, listen to me. You will not do a damn thing. Do you understand?”

Had he read her mind? He couldn’t be serious! “Then why even tell me?”

“Murray has a deal going down there. He’ll deliver the women to that location and they
will
be locked inside.” He went back to dressing, strapping on his vest, his gun and knife and baton. “I can’t concentrate on freeing them if there’s a single possibility that you could get hurt.”

Baloney. She had no doubt that Trace could do many things, multitasking one of them. “When?”

His expression darkened like a thundercloud. “It doesn’t matter, damn it!”

Her chin went up. “To me, it does.”

“Priss, I want…” He ran a hand through his hair, and then rubbed the back of his neck before appealing to her. “I
need
to know that you’ll be out of danger.”

Unrelenting, she pushed up off the bed. “What do you do?”

He lifted his hands. “I get the bad guys.”

Such a simple statement for such an amazing feat. Thinking of Helene, Priss asked, “And the bad women?”

“It’s happened.”

Had he gone undercover to get a woman? How far would he go to accomplish that? “Have you…you know, ever gotten involved…sexually—”

His tone, his expression softened. “I’m thirty years old, Priss. I’ve had relationships. You know that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” No one would ever mistake Trace for a monk. What she really wanted to know was if she was somehow special, but she didn’t know how to ask.

He watched her a moment, and as usual, he deciphered her meaning. “As a rule, I stay emotionally detached from anyone connected to a case. Emotion can dick up perspective every time. It robs a man of the edge needed to do what has to be done, when it has to be done.”

Like pulling the trigger. She nodded, her hopes dashed. “I see.”

“Do you?” He smoothed her wildly tangled hair. “I tried, Priss, I really did. But I couldn’t stay detached from you.”

“You couldn’t?”

He shook his head. “That’s the problem.”

So he saw her as a problem. Not that she’d expected much else, given his undercover position, and how her ap
pearance had caused such a stir with Murray. “I couldn’t stay detached, either.”

He cracked a smile. “I noticed. And I’m glad.” His put his palm to her jaw, curved his long fingers around her head, into her hair. “Now, will you please work with me instead of against me?”

“Yes.” She would definitely work with him, but probably not in the way he hoped. Priss slipped her arms around him, and he felt so big and strong and safe that she could barely get the next words out. “You can go, Trace. I promise I won’t get in your way.”

Tangling a hand in her hair, he gently pulled her head back and put his mouth to hers in a kiss of relief. “Jackson should be here soon.” He kissed her temple, and she felt his smile before he said, “If you could get dressed, that’d be great. I’d just as soon he not see you naked again.”

Priss slugged him in the gut for that, and even though he grunted, he laughed.

“It’s not funny.” Her face flamed anew as she remembered how Jackson had seen her.

“Believe me, I know.” Growing somber, Trace opened the sheet and looked at her body. “I’d have been a whole hell of a lot happier if no other man had seen you like this.”

Her heart started tripping in double time. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine.” He stepped back from her. “And I’m starting to realize that I’m a territorial bastard.”

On that note he walked out the door. Leaving her for Jackson, going to deal with Murray himself…

Trusting her to do as he asked.

Poor Trace. She loved him, she really did. But she wasn’t a person to consign responsibility, to sit idle while others were at risk, or to take orders from anyone.

Even from a man who now meant the world to her.

A
FTER ARRANGING TO
meet up with Murray at the offices, Trace called Dare.

He answered with, “What’s up?”

“I’m cutting things short. Murray has to go. The sooner the better.”

“Okay.” Dare fell quiet a second. “Why the change in plans?”

“I know where the women will be taken. The deal is happening any day now. There’s no reason to wait. I can round up the major players in one net, and then when they talk, we can get the rest.”

“
If
they talk.”

“They will.” He’d see to it.

“And the sudden turnaround has nothing to do with Priss?”

Trace squeezed the steering wheel. “Actually, it has a lot do with her.”

“I figured.”

He owed Dare the truth. “I slept with her.”

“So, you got carried away.” Dare sounded unconcerned. “It happens.”

“Not just once, Dare. All night long.” And it had been amazing, so amazing that he knew he couldn’t give it up. He couldn’t give
her
up. “I know damn good and well I’m going to sleep with her again.”

“It’s like that, huh?” As usual, Dare stayed calm in
every situation. “So I take it that we need to remove her from the picture?”

Out of harm’s way. “Absolutely.”

Without hesitation, Dare said, “If you can convince her, she can stay here.”

“Thank you.” He’d known that Dare would offer, but having it confirmed put him at ease. “I already talked to Priss. Jackson can drive her down today. I want her out of the area completely.”

“Today?” Dare hesitated. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Trace? How are you going to explain her sudden disappearance to Murray? He’s always suspicious, so he’s not going to be real accepting that a daughter presented herself one day only to take off the next.”

That was the first thing Trace had figured out. “He’ll believe she bolted after Helene went after her.”

“Hmm.” Dare considered the theory. “Yeah, that might be a good enough reason. God knows Hell is enough to scare most normal people into bolting.”

“It’ll have to do, because I’m not letting her within a hundred miles of Murray. Never again.”

“I take it Priss agreed with this decision?”

Not really, but she wasn’t irresponsible, so he had to believe that she’d play along. “She’ll be all right. I’ll see to it.”

Dare didn’t push the issue. “Chris can get the guest room ready. If you need anything else, let me know.”

Half an hour later, Trace got to the offices. He tried to ignore the prickling of unease that seeped into his every pore, but his instincts had never let him down. Something wasn’t right; he felt it even in the air he breathed into his lungs.

Was Murray onto him? Was he walking into a trap?

A guard at the parking garage door greeted him. “The boss man is waiting for you.”

Trace gave him an icy stare. “Since when do I need you to tell me that?”

The guy, a new recruit lacking smarts, quailed. “I—I dunno. Just saying.”

“You think I don’t know what Murray is doing at all times?”

“I guess you do.”

Deciding the comment had been offhand, and not a warning, Trace wrote it off. “Next time, try keeping your mouth shut.”

“Yes, sir.”

Idiot. And here he was, taking his bad temper out on someone who, for all intents and purposes, was defenseless against him. Disgusted, Trace took the elevator to Murray’s floor. Not knowing how Murray might react to Hell’s perfidy, he was anxious to get the confrontation over with.

For once it was nice not to get sideswiped by Helene. Of course, she was probably still recovering, not herself one hundred percent yet. He assumed she’d made it home okay. Like a cat, Helene Schumer always landed on her feet.

Alice was sitting at her desk when Trace walked in. Odd how she was always there, night and day, workweek and weekends. If Murray showed up at the offices, Alice was there, too.

She kept her head down, typing away on the computer.

Frowning, Trace approached her. “Alice.”

She glanced up and away, but smiled. “Mr. Coburn is waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” Trace paused beside her desk. “You’re okay?”

Alarm flashed in her big brown eyes before she averted her gaze. Again. “Yes, of course.”

She looked tired. “When’s your day off?”

Mistaking his interest, she stared at her monitor and her hands started to shake. “Mr. Miller…”

“Trace.”

She coughed, nodded. “Trace.” Her mouth opened twice before she said, “Mr. Coburn doesn’t allow any…personal relationships among employees.”

That wasn’t precisely true, but he understood her warning. “I wasn’t hitting on you, Alice.”

Her face went up in flames. “Oh, I know that. I meant… Well, I can’t…”

Something cynical and angry unfurled. As gently as possible, Trace asked, “You can’t what?”

Curling her hands into fists, Alice breathed heavily—then smiled up at him, her eyes wounded but determined. “Forgive me. I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re right. I mistook your interest. I’m sorry.”

Trace straightened. He would recognize those signs of fear and intimidation anywhere. How the hell had he missed it with Alice? Murray hired lots of people straight up, people he kept disconnected from the seedier side of his true profession.

Apparently Alice wasn’t one of them.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, Alice.” He nodded at her and headed for Murray’s office.
So many reasons to kill Murray.
And soon.

Trace rapped twice on the door and entered.

Murray sat behind his desk facing the window and speaking on the phone. He glanced back as Trace entered, waved him in, and then returned to his call. “No, damn it.” He paused before snarling, “Because the product is arriving early.”

Just inside the door, Trace waited with his head down so that Murray wouldn’t realize how intently he listened. Maybe this would all go quicker than even he had hoped.

“Enough.”
Murray jerked his chair around to face his desk. “This isn’t up for debate. Get your money together and be there.” He ended with slamming the phone down on the desktop.

Lifting a brow at the show of temper, Trace asked, “Should I come back?”

“No.” Murray scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. After a second, he picked the phone back up and, with more care, placed it in the cradle. “Come on in. I need a drink. You want one?”

As usual, Trace refused. “I just finished off a pot of coffee.”

“Late morning?”

“Very.”

“Maybe it was a full moon last night or something.” He sloshed a generous portion of whiskey into a tumbler. “Helene was also running late today.”

Was? “So she’s here now?”

Murray downed the drink and poured another before reseating himself behind the desk. “She called ahead to say she had something important to share with me.” He studied Trace. “You know anything about that?”

Trace took a nonthreatening stance to the side of Murray’s desk. “I have doubts that Helene would share the whole truth, but that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Helene?”

“In part.”

“Huh.” Murray folded his hands over his cumbersome gut. “You’ve got me on pins and needles.”

“Last night, she overstepped in a big way.”

Murray waved that off. “I gave her permission to play with Priscilla.”

Trace locked his back teeth. “I know, I was here.” And he’d make the son-of-a-bitch pay for that. “But I don’t
mean with your daughter.” He maintained eye contact with Murray. “She overstepped with me.”

“You?” He huffed. “How so?”

“Helene was at my hotel when I returned last night after our business.”

A frown pulled down Murray’s thick brows. “But what about Priscilla?”

“I have no idea. I tried to find her last night and then again this morning. No luck.”

He sat forward, his forearms on the desk. “You’re saying that Priscilla is missing?”

“Seems so.”

He searched Trace’s face. “And you think Helene did something with her?”

“That, or she scared her off.”

“I suppose that’s possible. Helene can be very…exuberant at times.” Rubbing his goatee, Murray thought about it. His gaze slashed up to Trace in suspicion. “What did you say to Helene when you found her there?”

“I told her to get lost.”

Chiding, Murray said, “Trace. Tsk, tsk. That was unkind of you.”

“You already knew my plans, and they didn’t include secondhand bait from you.”

“Oh-ho! If Helene heard you call her that, she’d castrate you.”

No doubt she’d try. “I wanted a quick shower, a couple of drinks and a woman.”

“Other than my Helene.”

Trace shrugged. “As you just said, she’s yours, and I don’t share.”

“A man after my own heart.” He slapped his hands down onto the desk. “So. After you rejected her, what happened?”

Remembering brought new tension to invade Trace’s muscles. “The bitch drugged me.”

Murray lost his relaxed posture. “Come again?”

“She stabbed me in the ass with a hypodermic. Whatever it was, it left me dopey long enough for her to…”

Sitting forward in anticipation, scowling darkly, Murray demanded, “Don’t keep me in suspense, damn it! For her to do what?”

“She tied me up. She was going to have her jollies regardless of what I had to say about it.”

Murray simmered…and then burst out laughing. “By God, Trace, you sound like one of those little twit virgins I’ve brought to auction!” He slapped his hands onto the desk again. “Worried about your virtue, are you?”

There was no comparing him, a capable, hard-living grown man to a helpless, frightened and fragile girl. But yeah, it had given him a small—very small—taste of how those females probably felt being so helpless.

The difference was that he knew he’d get loose, and he knew he’d make them all pay. The women whose lives Murray had ruined never had that satisfaction.

Expression and mood dark, Trace said, “You like control, Murray. I like control. Anything else is out of the question.”

“True, true.”

It wasn’t exactly accurate, but close enough. Trace said silkily, “If she wasn’t yours, I would have killed Helene for what she tried to do.”

Murray continued in a humorous vein. “Ah, so I take it you got free before she could…compromise you?”

“I was too pissed to deal with her, so I gave her a dose of her own medicine. Literally.”

“No shit?” His brows rose high. “You doped her?”

Trace gave a hard nod. “And then I left. When I came back later that night she was gone.”

“And yet she didn’t mention any of this.” Letting out a thoughtful breath, Murray stewed. “I got the feeling that whatever she wants to discuss with me, it has nothing to do with you.”

“I told her that you wouldn’t like it. And I told her that I’d inform you.” Trace shrugged. “I don’t think she believed me.”

“I have to say, I’m surprised you didn’t try to cover it up.” He tilted his head, studying Trace. “You weren’t concerned that I might put you at fault?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter anyway. I wouldn’t keep something important from you.”

“You consider this important?”

Trace didn’t like being played with. “You said yourself that Helene is unstable. You can best judge how unstable with reports of what she does.”

“Right you are.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t already know.” It never hurt to stroke Murray’s colossal ego—or to show his own. “You’ve had so many tails on me lately, I don’t know if I should be insulted at your lack of trust, or complimented that you’re concerned enough to keep the dogs out on me.”

“Take my advice. Be complimented.” He pushed the intercom. “Alice, tell Helene to get in here pronto.”

So Murray would waste no time in dealing with her. “Did you want me to stay?” Trace hoped so. As distasteful as he found the dynamics of Helene and Murray’s relationship, he wanted to stay apprised of any status changes.

“Knowing Helene, I might need your protection.” Murray smiled as he said it.

Given Murray’s fluctuating mood, Trace didn’t know if the lunatic would kill Helene, or applaud her audacity.

Helene barged in minutes later with a paper in hand.
Usually picture-perfect from her hair to her shoes, she looked less pulled together today. Besides her lank hair and her eyes dark with exhaustion, her sleeveless, pullover blouse had a few wrinkles, her split skirt was askew, and her shoes didn’t quite match the ensemble. She looked…more average than not, a regular woman instead of a live fetish with evil intent.

When she found Trace standing there by the windows, she paused. Her worried gaze went to Murray—and she knew she’d just stepped in it.

Helene wasn’t dumb, just insane.

“Yes, Helene,” Murray told her with a heavy dose of apathy. “You’re in trouble.”

Trying to brazen her way through, she waved a paper. “I have something important to share with you.”

“Really?” He turned to Trace. “And she looks so anxious to share. I suppose we can wait for our little disciplinary hearing, can’t we?”

Hiding his frustration, Trace said, “Your decision, as always.”

Murray left his chair and circled around to the front of his desk. He leaned back on it, arms crossed over his thick chest. “All right, Helene. Let’s hear it. And it better be good.”

Triumphant, she held out the paper. “The paternity results are in. That little fraud is
not
your daughter.”

Trace was so stunned that he didn’t know how to react. Murray seemed even more thrown, proving that he had believed Priss to be of his blood.

Neither of them reached for the paper.

“It’s true,” Helene declared. “I swear.”

Softly, Murray said, “I’ll be damned. I bought her act completely.”

“But it
was
an act.” Slapping the paper down on the desk beside Murray, Helene presented the epitome of
false sympathy. “She was trying to use you, Murray.” She stroked his goatee, the back of his head. “She wanted to take advantage of you, to take your money and your possessions. The evidence doesn’t lie. She’s not related to you in any way.”