Trace of Fever
Page 94
Without missing a beat, she said, “To a Laundromat. I needed to wash my pj’s and jeans and stuff.” Injecting the perfect amount of drama, she groaned. “And good thing, since everything else is gone!”
“Gone where?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. While I was away, someone broke in!”
Murray looked from Trace, to Helene, and back to Priss. “You’re sure?”
Rapid nodding sent Priss’s beautiful hair spilling over her shoulders, distracting Murray. “I got home and all of my wonderful new clothes were ripped up, ruined beyond repair.” She jiggled as if distressed beyond measure. “Oh, Murray, I didn’t know what to do!”
Murray eyed her. “So what did you do?”
“I tried calling Trace.” She cast him a worried, apologetic glance. “But he didn’t answer.”
Brows up, Murray turned to him. “Trace?”
He shrugged, trying to keep up with Priss. “Must’ve been after Helene showed up. I didn’t get any calls that I know of, but during our…altercation, she took my phone and turned it off.”
Helene started to say something, but Murray gave her a narrow-eyed stare that quieted her immediately.
Priss looked at them all with near-genuine confusion and concern. “I don’t have a number for you, Murray. So…I got out of there. I was afraid to stay. I am so sorry.”
“Hmm. So where did you stay?”
“I hung out in an all-night diner. That was kind of creepy, too, but at least I felt safe.” She rushed on. “I loved the clothes. Really loved them. And I know they cost a lot. I guess—I guess I could work to repay you. Unfortunately I don’t have enough money saved, or I’d just hand it over to you right now.”
Murray finally collected himself. “Nonsense. The clothes can be replaced. It’s your safety I’m concerned about now.” He looked at Trace. “Any ideas who could have done this?”
What a joke. It hadn’t happened, and Trace almost hated to further incriminate Helene; she was in enough trouble already. But since Priss had started this game, he had no choice but to play along.
When he gave Helene a pointed stare, Murray followed his gaze and sighed.
“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”
Helene’s expression pinched, but she held her peace.
As if she needed comfort, Priss looked fearfully at Helene—and slipped closer to Murray. In a whisper, she asked, “What’s wrong with her?”
Trace had to fight the urge to demolish Murray when he draped his ham bone of an arm around Priss. “She realizes that her actions have abrogated our association beyond repair.”
Filled with false innocence, Priss stammered, “I…I don’t know what that means.”
“It means she’s no longer under my protection, and that, young lady, is a very bad place to be.” Almost fondly, Murray hugged Priss into his side. “You might want to remember that.”
Forestalling any reply on Priss’s part, Alice stuck her head in. “Security is here.”
“Perfect timing.”
Priss gasped. “The men who grabbed me?” She half crawled behind Murray, using him like a shield.
“No.” Murray looked aggrieved by her seeming fear, and then lenient. “Building security, not my guards.” He patted her cheek. “And they’re here for Helene, not you.”
Panicked, Helene tried to bolt. Trace had already moved to block the door when Murray caught her by the hair, viciously twisting to subdue her. Gasping in honest dismay, Priss backpedaled out of the way. And Trace stood there helpless, hating that Priss witnessed the brutality.
She’d already seen too much in her young life. He wanted to shield her—but right now, he couldn’t do anything at all.
“Get the door,” Murray told him. And then to Priss, “Don’t you go anywhere, young lady. I’ll be right back.”
Wide-eyed, Priss nodded.
Trace stood aside as Murray dragged Helene out into the foyer. She was a tough one, but even she had her limits, and Trace found he wasn’t immune in reacting to her pain and fear.
Through the open door they could see Murray talking quietly to the men, but couldn’t hear what he said. Alice, on the other hand, was close enough to go alternately pale, then flushed.
For a moment, Trace thought she might faint. He wanted to protect her, too, but he had Priss to contend with. And then Alice stiffened her spine and he knew she’d be okay.
For now.
The guards, for their part, didn’t seem to relish whatever duty had befallen them. When Murray shoved Helene toward them, they caught her awkwardly and she broke into sobs.
“Jesus,” Priss whispered.
Teeth clenched and temper burning, Trace said, “Not. A. Word.”
She glanced at him, and patted his arm. “Okay.”
Now she was agreeable? With no other choice left to him, Trace slipped his hand into his pocket and sent a code to Jackson before saying to Priss, “If only you’d shown that much sense before now.”
She kept her gaze on Murray through the doorway. “I’m sorry, but you can’t cut me out of this.”
God help them. Falling back into the role assigned him, Trace turned and grabbed her arm. He pressed her into the seat Helene had just vacated, saying low, “You need to trust me now.”
“I do.” Priss swallowed hard, her eyes bright, determined. “Now it’s your turn to show a little trust in return.”
“Gone where?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. While I was away, someone broke in!”
Murray looked from Trace, to Helene, and back to Priss. “You’re sure?”
Rapid nodding sent Priss’s beautiful hair spilling over her shoulders, distracting Murray. “I got home and all of my wonderful new clothes were ripped up, ruined beyond repair.” She jiggled as if distressed beyond measure. “Oh, Murray, I didn’t know what to do!”
Murray eyed her. “So what did you do?”
“I tried calling Trace.” She cast him a worried, apologetic glance. “But he didn’t answer.”
Brows up, Murray turned to him. “Trace?”
He shrugged, trying to keep up with Priss. “Must’ve been after Helene showed up. I didn’t get any calls that I know of, but during our…altercation, she took my phone and turned it off.”
Helene started to say something, but Murray gave her a narrow-eyed stare that quieted her immediately.
Priss looked at them all with near-genuine confusion and concern. “I don’t have a number for you, Murray. So…I got out of there. I was afraid to stay. I am so sorry.”
“Hmm. So where did you stay?”
“I hung out in an all-night diner. That was kind of creepy, too, but at least I felt safe.” She rushed on. “I loved the clothes. Really loved them. And I know they cost a lot. I guess—I guess I could work to repay you. Unfortunately I don’t have enough money saved, or I’d just hand it over to you right now.”
Murray finally collected himself. “Nonsense. The clothes can be replaced. It’s your safety I’m concerned about now.” He looked at Trace. “Any ideas who could have done this?”
What a joke. It hadn’t happened, and Trace almost hated to further incriminate Helene; she was in enough trouble already. But since Priss had started this game, he had no choice but to play along.
When he gave Helene a pointed stare, Murray followed his gaze and sighed.
“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”
Helene’s expression pinched, but she held her peace.
As if she needed comfort, Priss looked fearfully at Helene—and slipped closer to Murray. In a whisper, she asked, “What’s wrong with her?”
Trace had to fight the urge to demolish Murray when he draped his ham bone of an arm around Priss. “She realizes that her actions have abrogated our association beyond repair.”
Filled with false innocence, Priss stammered, “I…I don’t know what that means.”
“It means she’s no longer under my protection, and that, young lady, is a very bad place to be.” Almost fondly, Murray hugged Priss into his side. “You might want to remember that.”
Forestalling any reply on Priss’s part, Alice stuck her head in. “Security is here.”
“Perfect timing.”
Priss gasped. “The men who grabbed me?” She half crawled behind Murray, using him like a shield.
“No.” Murray looked aggrieved by her seeming fear, and then lenient. “Building security, not my guards.” He patted her cheek. “And they’re here for Helene, not you.”
Panicked, Helene tried to bolt. Trace had already moved to block the door when Murray caught her by the hair, viciously twisting to subdue her. Gasping in honest dismay, Priss backpedaled out of the way. And Trace stood there helpless, hating that Priss witnessed the brutality.
She’d already seen too much in her young life. He wanted to shield her—but right now, he couldn’t do anything at all.
“Get the door,” Murray told him. And then to Priss, “Don’t you go anywhere, young lady. I’ll be right back.”
Wide-eyed, Priss nodded.
Trace stood aside as Murray dragged Helene out into the foyer. She was a tough one, but even she had her limits, and Trace found he wasn’t immune in reacting to her pain and fear.
Through the open door they could see Murray talking quietly to the men, but couldn’t hear what he said. Alice, on the other hand, was close enough to go alternately pale, then flushed.
For a moment, Trace thought she might faint. He wanted to protect her, too, but he had Priss to contend with. And then Alice stiffened her spine and he knew she’d be okay.
For now.
The guards, for their part, didn’t seem to relish whatever duty had befallen them. When Murray shoved Helene toward them, they caught her awkwardly and she broke into sobs.
“Jesus,” Priss whispered.
Teeth clenched and temper burning, Trace said, “Not. A. Word.”
She glanced at him, and patted his arm. “Okay.”
Now she was agreeable? With no other choice left to him, Trace slipped his hand into his pocket and sent a code to Jackson before saying to Priss, “If only you’d shown that much sense before now.”
She kept her gaze on Murray through the doorway. “I’m sorry, but you can’t cut me out of this.”
God help them. Falling back into the role assigned him, Trace turned and grabbed her arm. He pressed her into the seat Helene had just vacated, saying low, “You need to trust me now.”
“I do.” Priss swallowed hard, her eyes bright, determined. “Now it’s your turn to show a little trust in return.”
