Chapter 2

The moment Trace climbed into his Chevy Camaro, he yanked his tie back and forth with more force than needed to loosen the knot. Anger vibrated deep inside him at the crap that Kya tried to pull.

How the hell did he end up in situations like that? Did he have some damn sign on his forehead that said Feel Free to Touch Me at Will? Had he been the one to touch her inappropriately, his ass would’ve been hauled off to jail. It was bad enough months ago, when she walked around naked in front of him and his team member, but this time she had crossed the line.

Just let it go, man, he told himself and tossed the black tie into the passenger seat. But that was easier said than done. Even after he’d started his car and it roared to life, his mind kept going back to Kya’s little stunt. He hadn’t been able to get away from the woman fast enough, and he was using the word woman loosely. The A-list pop star was only twenty-two. A child, in his book.

Still, she had to know better than to grab a grown man’s package without permission. But what if his reaction had been different? What if he had accidentally hit her in the process of getting out of her grasp? He had instinctively, and roughly, grabbed her wrist and pushed her away, practically knocking her down without thinking. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, and what angered him more was that she, apparently, had thought it was funny.

Trace shook his head, not even wanting to think about how the situation could’ve easily spiraled out of control. Lucky for him Riley had been there to witness the incident. The other thing that gave Trace a little peace was knowing that Connie had just terminated Kya’s account with LEPA. He would never have to worry about getting assigned to her detail again since she wouldn’t be able to hire their services in Las Vegas or at their Los Angeles location.

Trace hadn’t meant for the situation to result in a lost contract. He knew the company would lose a substantial amount of money. He mainly just wanted to be removed from Kya’s detail. But Connie insisted that terminating the agreement was protecting both him and the company, especially since Kya refused to have female guards. She would never be able to put their team in a compromising position in the future.

Connie had come through again.

Trace felt the tension in his shoulders start to ease and a slow smile spread across his face. His spitfire supervisor might be small in stature, but she carried herself like a badass boss. She didn’t take crap from anybody. Something he more than respected.

Lately, it was hard to think of her without remembering that amazing night they shared. Trace had been secretly in lust with Connie since the first time they’d met a year ago. Their friendship over the last few months had blossomed into something much more than boss and direct report. At least for him. Connie, though? Not so much. After their passionate night together, she mentioned they could be friends but never anything more. Yet the attraction between them? Too intense to ignore.

He was so into Connie that if it meant him changing careers to be with her, he’d do it. The timing was good. He and one of his brothers had been planning to open a private investigation firm. Langston currently worked for the FBI, but like Trace, he was ready for a change in his life. The Halsteads were problem solvers by nature, and with his US Navy background, and Langston’s law-enforcement experience, they’d always be prepared if a case went sideways. Besides that, Trace’s business degree, which he’d earned while in the navy, was going to pay off for them in a big way.

His cell phone rang, and Sylvia’s telephone number popped up on the car’s dashboard screen. They’d dated off and on for a couple of years, but he had ended things with her after his passionate night with Connie. He knew then that he wanted to pursue an intimate relationship with his boss, even if she claimed they couldn’t get seriously involved.

Instead of ignoring the call, which was his first instinct, he answered with the car’s Bluetooth. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby. I’ve been thinking about you,” Sylvia crooned, her voice echoing through the speakers.

“How’s it going, Sylvia?”

“It would be going better if you weren’t avoiding me. How about dinner tonight at my place?”

“Sylvia, we’ve already talked about this,” Trace said as he stopped at a traffic light. “You’re a nice lady, but I can’t see you anymore.”

She was beautiful and intelligent, and they got along great. But Trace just couldn’t see a future with her. Actually, he hadn’t considered settling down with any of the women he’d been with. It didn’t matter that he was still single at thirty-four. None of them made him want to give up his bachelor card.

But then Connie had come along. Everything about the woman, from her sassiness to her sharp mind and sexy body, turned him on. He wanted nothing more than to take their friendship and turn it into something more. She was the only woman he could actually envision having a future with. That probably should’ve scared him, since it was a first.

Since realizing that he wanted more with Connie, he’d been turning down any invites from other women. So far Sylvia was the only one who couldn’t seem to move on. She called once or twice a week, and with each conversation, Trace made it clear that they could no longer see each other. Yet she continued.

Trace’s cell phone signaled another call coming in.

Trinity.

“Sylvia, I have to go. Take care of yourself.” He disconnected, not giving her a chance to respond, then answered the other line. “I was just heading into the office. I hope you’re not calling to tell me I have to go back to Kya’s,” he said by way of a greeting.

“No, actually, I’m calling about Connie.” The seriousness in her tone had Trace holding the steering wheel tighter.

“What’s going on?”

“The bank up the street was robbed this afternoon. Connie was there.”

Trace’s heart slammed against his chest. “What? Is she...is she okay? Was she hurt? Was anyone hurt?” The rapid-fire questions flowing from his mouth only amplified the anxiety suddenly building inside him. She had to be all right.

“As far as I know, physically Connie is fine. A security guard was hurt, and it sounds like he’ll be okay. But a loan officer was shot and is in serious condition.”

“But Connie’s okay?” Trace asked again, wanting to make sure.

“Yes, as far as I know,” she said in exasperation. “But I haven’t talked to her. Max just called and said that she was giving a statement at the police station. He wasn’t sure if Connie had called me and wanted to give me a heads-up of where she was,” Trinity said. Maxwell Layton was a police sergeant with the Las Vegas Police Department.

Trace’s chest tightened with trepidation as his thoughts ran rampant while he sped toward the highway that would take him to the office. “Did Connie call you?”

“No. I texted her earlier when she didn’t return to the office after lunch. She responded by text, but all she said was ‘I’m okay. Will explain later.’”

“Well, that’s a good sign. She’s all right.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter as those three words volleyed inside his mind, willing them to be true. She had to be okay. Trace wouldn’t rest until he knew she was physically and mentally fine.

“I hope you’re right. I just never know with Connie. The woman could be seriously hurt and still say she’s fine. That happened once when we were in college and a brawl broke out in the dining hall. Connie had nothing to do with the fight, but got caught in the middle of it and ended up getting trampled. We knew she’d been banged up, but she didn’t mention that she was in pain. It wasn’t until the next day that we realized she had several fractured ribs. She’ll never admit if she’s hurt.”

Trace hadn’t heard that story, but from what he knew of Connie, he could totally see her putting on a brave front. She always made it seem as if she could handle anything.

“I’m not sure why she’s at the police station,” Trinity continued. “When I was a cop, in cases like this, we’d do the questioning on-site. So something’s up. Max doesn’t have all the details, but he said he’d look into it and get back to me.”

Trace didn’t want to wait. He’d rather hear directly from Connie about what had happened. He’d call her as soon as he got off the phone with Trinity.

“I hate to ask you this, Trace, but can you go to the police station to meet her? Connie’s going to need a ride since she walked to the bank, and I was thinking—”

“I’m on it,” Trace said quickly. “I assume she’s at the precinct Max works out of?”

“Yes...and thanks for doing this.”

She already knew that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her or Connie. Not just because he worked for them, but because they were a part of him. Trinity, one of his best friends, and Connie... Well, he wasn’t exactly sure what category to put Connie in at the moment.

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A short while later, Trace entered the police station. Once he was through security, he trotted up three stairs and glanced around, hearing muffled voices to his left and right from behind closed doors. In front of him was a long desk counter where two uniformed officers were working.

“Trace.”

He whipped around and saw Maxwell, dressed in his blue uniform, walking toward him.

“Hey, man. I was hoping to run into you,” Trace said in a rush, his heart rate elevated. He had broken every speed limit, cutting his arrival time in half, in an effort to get to Connie and see for himself that she was fine.

They shook hands and pulled each other into a one-armed hug. Trace hadn’t seen Max in months.

Growing up, he and his brothers used to hang out with Maxwell since they lived in the same neighborhood. Unlike Trace, who’d joined the navy, his two older brothers and Maxwell had gone into law enforcement.

“It’s good seeing you. I just hate it’s under these circumstances,” Maxwell said.

“I agree. Where is she?”

“Follow me. I was looking out for you since Trinity told me you were on your way.”

Trace walked alongside Maxwell and followed him through the door to the right of the desk counter. Then they entered a hallway with a few offices with glass walls.

Maxwell slowed. “Connie’s fine, but she’s a little shaken up. You know she’s like a sister to me. I hate she was even there. While one of the responding officers questioned her, they realized that she got a partial ID on one of the robbers. That’s why she was asked to come to the sta—”

“Wait. What?” Unease clawed at Trace. “She recognized one of them?”

An officer peeked out from behind a closed door. “Hey, Sarge. You got a minute?” he said to Maxwell.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll be right there.” Maxwell turned back to Trace. “The bank robbery is under the Feds’ jurisdiction. So they’ll be handling the case from here. Connie will be working with them, but right now she’s with our sketch artist.”

Trace hated the idea of Connie being anywhere near this case. It was bad enough she’d had to experience a bank robbery. “What do you mean, working with them? The Feds aren’t planning to use her to draw the robbers out, are they?”

Maxwell glanced around as if making sure no one was nearby before leaning close to Trace. “I’m sure they’ll have more questions for her. There’s been three bank robberies in the area within a four-month time frame. We think they’re related. So far, Connie is the only witness we have who got a clear look at one of the robbers. She’s the only one who’s been able to give anything helpful so far.”

Trace shook his head. “Nah, man. It’s too dangerous. I get them needing her to answer questions and help with the sketch, but that’s it. They can’t be using her as some type of bait. I’m not letting that happen,” he said with conviction.

Connie wasn’t his. Trace had no right to have a say in any part of her life. Yet, even as her friend, her well-being was important to him.

Maxwell gripped Trace’s shoulder and squeezed. “I get it, man. I’m worried about her, too. She’s like a sister to me. But only a handful of us know she can partially identify one of the bank robbers. She won’t be put in any danger. The Feds will probably check in with her over the next couple of days to see if she remembers anything else. But just so you know, Connie told them that she’s willing to assist any way she can.”

“What?”

Maxwell shrugged. “That’s what she said. I can’t see them needing her after today, though. Her working with a sketch artist is going to be very helpful. Oh, and is Langston still with the FBI?”

“Yeah, he’s been undercover for the last few years. Now he’s back and working out of the Vegas field office.”

Maybe Trace could get some information from his brother, but he doubted it. Like most law-enforcement agents, Langston was tight-lipped about cases, even more so when it was someone else’s.

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Trace looked up when Connie and two other men exited a door. They were about thirty feet away. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he assumed the guys must be FBI, if their dark suits were any indication.

“She’s going to be fine,” Maxwell said.

Trace hoped he was right. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her pink sleeveless blouse was wrinkled, something he assumed had to do with the bank robbery. Connie was normally meticulous about her appearance; there was no way she would be out in public looking disheveled. Even her dark pants had gray smudges, as if she’d been rolling around on a dusty floor. The black flats on her feet weren’t her norm, either. At around five-five and petite, she rarely wore anything other than high heels at the office, at least as far as Trace had seen. Right now, though, she appeared almost timid. Or maybe that was what he wanted to see, so that she’d need him somehow.

How pitiful was he, that he was looking for any excuse to hold her close? Smart, confident and self-sufficient, based on what Trinity had told him about her, she probably wouldn’t want to be coddled.

Connie folded her arms around her midsection in a protective move. As if sensing him watching, she turned her head slightly and their gazes collided. She pushed her long, dark curls behind her ear, allowing him a better view of her beautiful face. Her golden-brown skin glowed beneath the fluorescent lights, and she gave him a shy smile before returning her attention to the suits.

“I hate this,” Trace mumbled under his breath.

“Hate what?”

“I hate that she’s caught up in this mess.” He wasn’t sure how far she’d go to help the FBI, but if they asked her to do something in the name of helping them catch the bastards, she’d do it.

“You have to give her some credit, man,” Maxwell said, as if reading his mind. “She might be tiny, but she’s tough. She’ll be all right.”

Maxwell had known her longer than Trace. If he said she was tough enough, Trace would have to believe him. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be right there to step in if she needed him.

“Well, let me get back to work. Take care of our girl and holler if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Trace said, giving him a fist bump before Maxwell headed down the hallway.

When Trace turned back to Connie, she was walking toward him, her posture rigid, as if she was carrying the world on her shoulders. He watched her carefully, needing to see with his own eyes that she was all right. Physically, she appeared fine, but Trace didn’t miss the way her gaze bounced around. She was running her hands up and down her bare arms, as if cold. The closer she got to him, the more agitated she seemed.

His heart rate kicked up when their gazes finally collided. He had never seen her look so vulnerable and so worn out as she did in that moment. The worst part was that he wasn’t sure what to do for her.

“You all right?” he asked, knowing it was a dumb question, but it was all he could think to say.

Instead of speaking, Connie nodded and swallowed. Folding her bottom lip between her teeth, she gnawed on it as her features contorted into a mask of anguish. Tears suddenly filled her eyes. The sight was like taking a punch to the stomach. Trace could practically feel the mental and emotional battles taking place within her.

Ah, hell.

“Come here,” he said, trying to keep his own warring emotions in check.

He opened his arms, and Connie practically fell into his embrace. Tightening his hold around her, Trace held her close as her shoulders shook and she silently cried against his chest.

He could only imagine what it had been like, being present during a bank robbery. What had she seen? Had the man who’d been shot been nearby? Then to have to recount the details, reliving the moments over and over, had probably taken a toll. He hated seeing her like this. Watching any woman cry was hard, but when that woman was Connie, his pint-size dynamo, it was even tougher. The thought of something or someone putting a dent in her strong, vibrant personality broke his heart.

So many thoughts and questions jockeyed inside his head—questions he wanted answers to, but not yet. Right now, Connie just needed to know that he was there for her.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said close to her ear.

Minutes ticked by as they stood on the side of the hallway. He ignored the sidelong glances they were getting from officers and employees milling about. All that mattered at that moment was the woman in his arms.

Trace placed a kiss on top of her head, her mass of curls tickling his nose. Of course, he had dreamed of having her in his arms again, but not like this. Not when she was so upset.

As her sobs quieted, Connie slowly loosened her arms from around his waist. When she pulled back, she blotted her face with the heel of her hand and didn’t meet his eyes right away.

“Sorry for crying all over you.” She waved her hands around. “I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

Trace cupped her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. He stared into her beautiful, but sad, hazel eyes. “What can I do?” he asked, brushing the pads of his thumbs over her wet cheeks.

Tears hung on her long lashes, and a wobbly smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “You being here is enough. Thank you for coming.”

Trace nodded. He believed in fate, and being pulled from his assignment early had been perfect timing. He and Connie might not be a couple yet, but he already knew he wanted to be the man who came to her rescue.

“Always. I’ll always come when you need me.” His hands slid over her shoulders and down her arms as he took a good look at her. She looked okay, but he needed to know for sure. “Were you hurt?”

“No.” She shook her head, still wiping her face. “It was just the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I’m sure it was. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Trace draped his arm over her shoulder and guided her out of the building.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Connie said when they were outside.

“No problem. I’m glad I was available.”

He removed his arm from around her shoulder and grabbed hold of Connie’s small hand. He half expected her to pull out of his grasp, but was glad when she gave him a little squeeze instead.

“I’m over here.” He guided her across the parking lot and stopped at the black Camaro. “So what do you think?”

Her eyes grew large. “I didn’t know you bought a new car. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it was way past time for me to retire the Jeep.” This new vehicle had been a gift to himself after the bonus he had received for his last assignment.

He helped her into the passenger side before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“I knew you’d been talking about needing a new ride, but I didn’t peg you as the sports-car type.” She ran her hand over the dashboard as her gaze swept over the interior. “I think I’m in love with your car.”

Trace laughed, wishing she was referring to him with the same awe in her voice. Instead of starting the vehicle, he glanced at her. “Are you sure you’re all right? I know I keep asking, but—”

“I’m sure. I know I got a little emotional back there, but really, I’m good. I just hope they catch these guys. The thought of them still out there, possibly planning another robbery, pisses me off. Two people are in the hospital because of those assholes. Excuse my language, but I’m so...I’m so angry, especially knowing Richard is still in surgery.”

“Richard?”

“Yeah, he was the loan officer I was talking to before the robbery. I heard him get shot.”

Trace shook his head and started the car. “Senseless. Another senseless shooting.”

During his years in the navy, his tours of duty had taken him to some rough countries. He had seen so much crap that he would never be able to unsee. Now, back on US soil, he still found it bugged the hell out of him to hear about crimes and killings that just didn’t make sense.

“It’s like people don’t value life anymore,” he said, but stopped himself before launching into one of his rants about foolishness. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get that man’s gray eyes out of my mind.”

Trace turned to her. “Exactly what were you able to ID?”

“I saw his eyes and part of a tattoo on his neck.”

“Did he see you?”

Connie swallowed hard and bit down on her bottom lip, something she did whenever she was uncomfortable. “We made eye contact, but only for a second or maybe two. Then, just as quick, one of the other men pulled him out the door.”

“Damn, Connie. That means he might be able to identify you, too.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t think so. It was just a split second. Trace, everything happened so fast. There’s no way he could’ve gotten a good look at me. Besides, he doesn’t know who I am,” she said in a rush, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself. “He knows nothing about me, and the FBI agent assured me that what I shared with them and my identity will be kept confidential.”

Worry wound through Trace as he watched her carefully, noticing how agitated she was getting. He reached over and massaged the back of her neck.

“If you believe that, then why are you trembling?”