Trace of Fever

by Lori Foster

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR THE SECOND THEY PULLED away from the curb, Trace beat her to the punch. “Not a word, Priss. I mean it.” She opened her mouth, but after giving his frown due attention, she retreated. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He gave her a disbelieving look. She let out a breath. “Yeah. That question sounded preposterous even to me. For God’s sake, I’ve just been forced into the most revealing outfits for your entertainment, and for Murray’s eventual enjoyment, so all kinds of things are wrong.” “It’s fucked three ways to Sunday, I agree.” She scowled, and again started to speak, only to have Trace interrupt her. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he said, “We’re being followed.” She didn’t look. She obviously knew better, which sharpened his curiosity about her. Slowly, barely, she leaned toward the window to use the side-view mirror. “Who do you think it is?” “No idea, so try not to annoy me for a few minutes.” He dug out his cell phone and dialed Murray. Most people would have to go thr

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE SNATCHING THE GIANT cat away from him, Priss held him protectively. With his chin tucked into the longer hair on his chest, Liger continued to purr. Priss looked equal parts alarmed, furious and defensive. “Listen to me,” Trace said. “No, you listen.” It was the darkest, coldest tone he’d heard from her. “If you touch one finger to my cat, I’ll…” She didn’t finish the threat, unable to think of anything dire enough. Rolling his eyes, Trace rose back to his feet and surveyed her apartment. It was clean but ragtag, spare beyond measure, and in no way secure. “I’m trying to make sure the cat stays safe. Anything or anyone that can be used against you is in danger. That’s why I asked you if you were involved with anyone else in any way.” “Oh.” He cut his gaze to her. “What did you think? That I was hitting on you?” Her right shoulder lifted. “You had just seen me all but naked.” God, he didn’t need her to remind him; the image would be forever burned into his brain. “You flaun

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX IT DIDN’T SURPRISE Trace when Priss jumped up to confront him. “What was that about?” Dread left her pale and angry. “Why were you talking about rape? What are you planning? What is he planning?” Trace studied her face. Without makeup, her long hair rumpled and hanging in tangles, she was still so damn sexy that he had to fight to keep his body from reacting. Again. He wanted to protect her, to soothe her, and he wanted to be inside her. Right now. Through the oversize T-shirt she’d worn as a nightgown, he could see the generous swell of her breasts, and even the outline of her soft nipples. From the jut of that stupendous rack, the shirt dropped over a flat belly down to rounded, shapely thighs. She was so small boned, Trace thought, her wrists and ankles fragile, feminine. “Trace,” she warned, as if she had any leverage against him. “Tell me what’s going on.” “All right.” He closed the small space between them. “Seems you and Daddy Dearest have a few things in common.” Sh

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN HE’D DONE A LOT OF atrocious things in his lifetime. He’d maimed many men, killed more than that, all without this awful, gnawing remorse. The things he did were part of the job, his self-assigned duty to society. He removed the scum, or took them out of commission, without blinking an eye. Along the way, he’d occasionally had to manipulate an innocent, always without real harm. But this time, with Priss…an unbearable churning of guilt, regret and anger left him keyed up and furious. What was it about Priscilla Patterson that turned him inside out like this? More than most, he understood the need for a clear head, for uncompromised dedication to seeing the job through. Murray and his ilk, his associates and admirers, were a waste of humanity at best, a threat to unprotected people at worst. After what had happened to his sister, no way in hell could Trace let any of them slide. He’d see them all in hell before he quit. But with Priss in his arms, her damned oversize cat s

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT THE MINUTE MOLLY AND Priss disappeared inside, Trace cursed. He actually wanted to hit something, but a tree would break his knuckles, he didn’t want to put another dent in the truck, and Dare would hit back. Chris Chapey, Dare’s longtime best friend and personal assistant, approached with the enormous cat draped over one shoulder so that he could keep an eye on the trailing dogs. The bottom half of Liger filled his arms, and the long tail hung down to the hem of Chris’s shorts. Without even thinking about it, Trace started petting the cat. After a few hours in the truck together, he and Liger had an understanding of sorts. Dare watched him, but said only, “That cat is a beast.” “He’s an armful, that’s for sure.” Chris hefted him a little higher, and got a sweet meow in return. Both dogs barked in excitement, but quieted when Liger gave them a level stare. Chris laughed at that. “You want me to head in to keep an eye on things?” “That’s why I pay you the big bucks, right?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE TRACE FOLLOWED BEHIND Chris as he led the way from his smaller house down closer to the lake, up to Dare’s much larger home. They’d accomplished only a little, but he now knew that Priss’s ID was authentic, and that she lived in Ohio. “She was seriously ready to blow, Trace. I know pissed when I see it, and that girl was pissed. Big-time.” Dare flattened his mouth, but couldn’t keep quiet. “You say Matt wanted to wax her?” “Yeah.” Chris looked back at them. “I think he thought he was supposed to…you know…style her everywhere.” Trace locked his teeth together. He did not want to have this discussion again. Not with his friends. “I don’t blame her for complaining.” Dare frowned at Trace. “Hell of a thing to ask a girl to do, especially in a private home instead of a salon.” Trace stopped dead in his tracks, fed up, pushed over the edge. “She’s not a girl. She’s a grown woman who put herself in this predicament by plotting against Murray.” Dare and Chris stopped, too, then tu

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN THE KISS LINGERED UNTIL Trace knew he had to end it or else find a room. If he did that, he’d be late getting back to Murray, because a quickie with Priss would never satisfy him. Sure, it’d take the edge off, but what he really wanted was to linger with her, to spend his time sating them both. Soon, he told himself. When the timing was right. Responsibility had never felt so heavy. “You, Priscilla Patterson, are a mighty distraction.” “I never was before.” She put her forehead to his sternum. “But I’m glad I am now. Truth is, I need the distraction as much as you apparently do.” “Worried?” He smoothed her hair again. He couldn’t wait to feel it on his bare skin. They were moving at the speed of light, and the circumstances weren’t exactly conducive to seduction, but that didn’t seem to matter. The chemistry was there, taking over, driving them both, and he felt defenseless against it. Against her. “Just wondering about something.” She levered back. “Murray doesn’t trace th

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN TRACE CONCENTRATED on the traffic, on the surrounding area and on not responding to Priss’s astute guess. After a minute of silence from him, she retreated back to her own seat. The second she stopped touching him, he felt her withdrawal, both physical and emotional, and he hated it. Tension built inside him. “Priss…” With little interest, she said, “Hmm?” Damn it. Why he felt so drawn to her, so…entwined with her, Trace couldn’t say. But he didn’t want a barrier between them, not now. “I do have a sister.” “I know.” She sounded even more remote. “I heard you say so.” Loyalties divided, Trace sought a response that would pacify her. “Alani’s life…her issues…they’re private. Hers to share, not mine.” At least he had her attention again. Priss watched him, still guarded but also sympathetic. Finally she sighed. “I can understand that.” She turned her head to look out the window at the passing scenery. “That’s exactly how I feel about my life and my issues.” Trace was quick

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE “I WANT TO TALK TO her myself.” Murray tangled his hand in Helene’s hair—and pulled. “Who are we talking about, sweet?” She winced, but didn’t fight him. Her lip curled. “Priscilla.” “Ah.” Murray loved how
Helene always simmered near the boiling point, no matter the circumstances, no matter his mood or how rough or gentle he might me. “Jealous, much?” Heat flared in her light blue eyes. “Jealous, not at all!” “You’re a liar. I can see it.” He cuddled her big, firm breast. “You’re vibrating with hatred.” Her lips parted as he found her nipple. “Hatred, yes. She’s trying to use you. I know it. I don’t trust her.” Very softly, he asked, “You don’t trust me?” He applied more pressure to her nipple, tugged. “Ah—God, I do, Murray. Of course I do.” She panted. “Always.” “Then trust me to know what to do with little Priscilla Patterson.” Releasing her, Murray pushed her back and fumbled with his slacks. Submission always fired his blood. He loved it. He wallowed in his power. “I

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN ALTHOUGH HE STAYED alert and ready for anything that might happen, Jackson seemed relaxed as he sat back against a rock wall. He wore his cowboy hat low, had his boots crossed at the ankles, a knapsack rested beside him and he’d been nursing the same beer—mostly a prop—for over an hour. Some men got bored when on surveillance. Not Jackson. He lived for this shit. He loved it. Fine-tuning his instincts hadn’t taken as long as it might for some. By being forced into the right spot, at the right time, he’d learned that he was born to kick ass, to protect. To operate outside the law. Yeah, that was the best part. Dare and Trace had connections that would make the president of the U.S. of A. jealous. Senators, wealthy businessmen, foreign dignitaries, hell, they probably knew the prez himself. Those types of connections provided clearance to do what had to be done when legal venues stifled progress. They were good men, walking the edge of honor, never teetering too far to t

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN AS THEY WENT AROUND to the side to enter a dank, dark section of the building, foul odors assaulted Trace’s nose. It was the smell of age, mold and…fear. “I take it this isn’t where people apply for a job.” Murray snickered. “We’re sure as hell not going to march in the front door.” He pressed up too close to Trace’s back. “Most think this section is condemned. No one comes in here.” “I can see why.” Like an old factory, the brick interior walls led through hallway after hallway, all narrow, all dirty and crumbling and dark. After some maneuvering they reached a room where large, idle machinery, now in disrepair, sat in a twisted heap of metal. More than half the bulbs were missing from overhead light fixtures, and drafts through broken windows sent shadows moving and dancing, stretching out over the concrete floor. Trace stopped to listen. “I don’t like this,” Murray complained. “Maybe I needed more guards after all.” “You don’t need anyone besides me.” “Damn you, you

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN THE HORROR OF WHAT they’d just overheard left Jackson and Priss staring at each other. It was Priss who reacted first. “Why are you standing there?” She shoved Jackson hard. “You heard everything. That bitch is going to molest him!” Looking a little sick, Jackson whispered, “Yeah.” He looked away. “Or worse.” Her stomach cramped and her eyes burned. She covered her mouth. “God only knows what she’s capable of.” “I shouldn’t have said that.” Jackson closed the now-dead phone and knotted his fingers in his hair. “And I shouldn’t have put him on speaker phone.” “I wouldn’t have given the phone back to you otherwise!” Trace had called with instructions for Jackson to do a check on an old factory. He wanted a blueprint to the building, and he wanted to know how long it had been out of operation and who owned it now. From what she’d heard, Jackson would leave much of that research to Dare, who would likely leave it to Chris. Little by little, she was learning the chain of com

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN WITH A CLEAR VIEW OF Helene still out cold, Trace asked Jackson, “Why the hell are you even here?” Jackson looked far too uneasy for Trace’s peace of mind. “I know you didn’t want me here. I got the message loud and clear when you cut the call. Thing is, your little lady was damned insistent that I do something.” “Like get stunned and tied up?” “You try planning with a hellcat breathing fire in your ear, making demands, prodding you—” “Priss?” “She’s a terror. That name doesn’t suit her at all.” Fine, so Priscilla had been worried. There was no reason, and he’d explain that to her later, but that didn’t get Jackson off the hook. “Why aren’t you at least alone?” “There was no reasoning with her. She was hell-bent on heading out the door, with or without me.” He met Trace’s anger front on. “My only option was to go along with her, or knock her out the same way I did with Helene.” The idea of anyone putting hands on Priss left Trace bunched with rage. “Don’t even think—” J

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN TRACE FORCED HIMSELF to pull back. Priss watched him with wide, curious eyes, her body shimmering in excitement. Reminding himself that this was her first time, that she’d been through hell tonight, and that she had a lot of emotional baggage, he gathered himself as much as he could. He slid his fingers under the waistband of her tiny panties, then said, “Let’s get rid of these, okay?” He pulled them down and off her long legs. After dropping them off the side of the bed, he slowly drew a hand from her ankle to her knee, then up the inside of her thigh until he covered her pubic curls with his palm. She bit her lip, but said nothing. Trace sat on the side of the bed, looking at her, breathing in her scent, thinking of all he wanted to do to her and with her. “I feel exposed.” His gaze lifted to hers. “You are exposed.” Frowning, he asked, “You aren’t worried?” “No.” She drew a couple of quick breaths. “It’s just that you’re looking at me like…like you’re examining me

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN AFTER 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 e

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN DESPICABLE AS HELENE might be, it wasn’t easy to see her dragged away. And with Trace so furious, it was even harder to maintain her pretense, especially when Murray strode back in as if he hadn’t just physically and emotionally abused his lover. Horror would be the appropriate reaction, so Priss gave in to it. Hand to her mouth, she stared from Trace to Murray. “What in the world did she do?” “She destroyed your new clothes.” “Oh, but…” Surely Murray wouldn’t pretend that was her only offense? “If that’s so…why? Why would she do such a thing?” “Jealousy, no doubt.” Murray finished off a drink, and went to the liquor cabinet to pour another. “Oh.” What the hell could she say now? “I seriously doubt that.” Laughing, Murray sent a toast to Trace. “Well, really, whatever the reason, I don’t want to see her hurt….” “Don’t worry about it, my dear. The authorities will deal with her.” Yeah, right. “You called the police?” “Of course.” He smirked at her. “What did you think I

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY PRISS’S HEART HAMMERED in dread at how things had unfolded. Despite her palpating fears, she forced herself to patience as she got each and every woman out into the sunny yard. “Please trust me,” she called out to them. “I need you all to stay together, and I need you to move a safe distance away from this building.” Under the circumstances there could be stra
y gunfire, and Priss didn’t want any of the women to inadvertently get in the way. She didn’t see Jackson anywhere, but she had no doubt at all that he’d keep them all safe from any direct threats. Only problem was, if Jackson kept watch over them, he couldn’t help to keep Trace safe. And Trace needed him more than they did. He was alone with a madman, trying to maneuver through a web of dark and winding corridors in a collapsing factory. Murray could conceal himself around any corner and then attack when Trace came into view. No, no, no. Few men could boast of Trace’s skills; she had to keep reminding herself of th

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE AS TRACE DROVE AWAY from the area, a fierce emotion settled over Priss. It was final and dark, and scarier than facing off with Murray in a deserted, musty factory. Now that Murray was dead, what would she do? She glanced at Trace. What would they do? Even though he’d been careful with Alice, Priss could see that Trace was in a killing mood, silent and distant. He probably resented her involvement, because he saw it as interference. Given all that had transpired she understood his reaction. He’d had a long-term plan, and she’d thrown a kink in the works. Poor Trace. He was so methodical, so detailed in what he did, so quick to react in every situation, having someone like her around must have been a trial. What to do? When Priss lifted a hand to push her hair from her face, she noticed that, with the adrenaline wearing off, she shook like a freezing, wet cat. She also realized how badly her feet hurt in the stupid heels. Fighting back useless tears, she bent and remo