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

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 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.”