Trace of Fever
Page 95
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 would do?”
Torture her? Kill her? Sell her to the highest bidder, or maybe pass her around to his associates for grins and giggles?
Saying none of that aloud, Priss shook her head. “I don’t know. You’ve said yourself that you’re a powerful man, and so many strange things have happened since I came here. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“It’s understandable.” He knocked back the drink and poured another.
Was he getting toasted? That’d be convenient.
Almost to himself, Murray said, “You have actually seen far too much.”
Wow, not a subtle threat at all. Priss eased out of the chair. “Maybe I should come back another time.”
“No.” The way he bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile certainly wasn’t meant to reassure her. Stepping around her, he said to Trace, “The deal is happening today. I need you along.”
The deal. Priss hoped and prayed he meant what she thought he meant, because she badly wanted this all to end.
Trace looked far from relieved. “What about her?” He nodded toward Priss.
“With villains pursuing her left and right, we can’t very well leave her unprotected, now, can we?”
Face set and cold, Trace said nothing.
Murray clapped him on the shoulder. “I believe we’ll take her along.”
Afraid of what she’d see, Priss didn’t look at Trace. She knew he’d be in a killing mood, but trusted him—yeah, she did trust him—to keep his temper under wraps so they could finish this properly, preferably with Murray finished once and for all.
In a pretence of excitement, she clapped her hands together. “To a business meeting? You mean it?”
Deadpan, he looked at Trace, then back to Priss. “I always say what I mean.”
“Oh, Murray, I’d love to see what you do and how you do it. But…” She looked down at herself. “I’m hardly dressed properly.”
“I’ll have Twyla send over something. She should have your size on record.”
Priss gasped in credible awe. “You can do that?”
For an answer, he hit the button to summon Alice. When the poor woman entered, feet dragging, Murray said, “Priscilla will be joining me on my business meeting today.”
Alice shot a pitying glance her way.
“Get Twyla to send over something nice for her to wear. Tell her I need it within the hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Alice waited to be dismissed.
Studying her, Murray tapped his thick sausage fingers on the desktop. “You know, Alice, it’d be nice if you dressed a little more appropriately, too. You don’t have to look so dreary all the time.”
She looked like she’d just been struck. Even more meekly, she said, “Yes, sir.”
“We’ll leave at two.” His expression boded ill for all. “Clear my calendar for the rest of the day after that.” When she still hesitated, he said, “That’s all.”
After she’d left the room, Trace frowned. “Alice is going along, too?”
“Always. She keeps the books.”
Whoa. That was something Priss hadn’t considered. Surely Alice wasn’t a willing participant. Not that she was a good judge of such things, but still—Helene, she could see. Murray, obviously. But not Alice.
When Priss looked at Trace, he wore no expression at all. But she already knew him well enough to pick up on his escalating tension.
“I have some things to attend to.” Murray moved around them, speaking to Trace as if she didn’t exist. “Take her to the conference room. Alice will bring the clothes as soon as they arrive. Supervise her when she changes. I don’t want any surprises.”
“I’ll get her something to drink in the meantime.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at Priss without much interest. “Make her comfortable.” He went out the door with an intent scowl of preoccupation.
As he passed Alice’s desk, she jumped up to follow…almost like a pet, eager to please—or fearful of disappointing.
When the coast was clear, Priss said, “Wow, that was—”
Trace caught her wrist, shushing her. She looked at him and he shook his head.
Bugged? she mouthed.
He shrugged, letting her know he wasn’t certain. But he glanced at the intercom system Murray used, and she realized it could easily go both ways.
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 would do?”
Torture her? Kill her? Sell her to the highest bidder, or maybe pass her around to his associates for grins and giggles?
Saying none of that aloud, Priss shook her head. “I don’t know. You’ve said yourself that you’re a powerful man, and so many strange things have happened since I came here. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“It’s understandable.” He knocked back the drink and poured another.
Was he getting toasted? That’d be convenient.
Almost to himself, Murray said, “You have actually seen far too much.”
Wow, not a subtle threat at all. Priss eased out of the chair. “Maybe I should come back another time.”
“No.” The way he bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile certainly wasn’t meant to reassure her. Stepping around her, he said to Trace, “The deal is happening today. I need you along.”
The deal. Priss hoped and prayed he meant what she thought he meant, because she badly wanted this all to end.
Trace looked far from relieved. “What about her?” He nodded toward Priss.
“With villains pursuing her left and right, we can’t very well leave her unprotected, now, can we?”
Face set and cold, Trace said nothing.
Murray clapped him on the shoulder. “I believe we’ll take her along.”
Afraid of what she’d see, Priss didn’t look at Trace. She knew he’d be in a killing mood, but trusted him—yeah, she did trust him—to keep his temper under wraps so they could finish this properly, preferably with Murray finished once and for all.
In a pretence of excitement, she clapped her hands together. “To a business meeting? You mean it?”
Deadpan, he looked at Trace, then back to Priss. “I always say what I mean.”
“Oh, Murray, I’d love to see what you do and how you do it. But…” She looked down at herself. “I’m hardly dressed properly.”
“I’ll have Twyla send over something. She should have your size on record.”
Priss gasped in credible awe. “You can do that?”
For an answer, he hit the button to summon Alice. When the poor woman entered, feet dragging, Murray said, “Priscilla will be joining me on my business meeting today.”
Alice shot a pitying glance her way.
“Get Twyla to send over something nice for her to wear. Tell her I need it within the hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Alice waited to be dismissed.
Studying her, Murray tapped his thick sausage fingers on the desktop. “You know, Alice, it’d be nice if you dressed a little more appropriately, too. You don’t have to look so dreary all the time.”
She looked like she’d just been struck. Even more meekly, she said, “Yes, sir.”
“We’ll leave at two.” His expression boded ill for all. “Clear my calendar for the rest of the day after that.” When she still hesitated, he said, “That’s all.”
After she’d left the room, Trace frowned. “Alice is going along, too?”
“Always. She keeps the books.”
Whoa. That was something Priss hadn’t considered. Surely Alice wasn’t a willing participant. Not that she was a good judge of such things, but still—Helene, she could see. Murray, obviously. But not Alice.
When Priss looked at Trace, he wore no expression at all. But she already knew him well enough to pick up on his escalating tension.
“I have some things to attend to.” Murray moved around them, speaking to Trace as if she didn’t exist. “Take her to the conference room. Alice will bring the clothes as soon as they arrive. Supervise her when she changes. I don’t want any surprises.”
“I’ll get her something to drink in the meantime.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at Priss without much interest. “Make her comfortable.” He went out the door with an intent scowl of preoccupation.
As he passed Alice’s desk, she jumped up to follow…almost like a pet, eager to please—or fearful of disappointing.
When the coast was clear, Priss said, “Wow, that was—”
Trace caught her wrist, shushing her. She looked at him and he shook his head.
Bugged? she mouthed.
He shrugged, letting her know he wasn’t certain. But he glanced at the intercom system Murray used, and she realized it could easily go both ways.
