Chapter 25

Connie danced in her theater seat and mouthed the words to the song that the actress was singing. She had first seen this classic Broadway show the one time she had visited New York. Since then, she tried to get tickets to it whenever the show was in Las Vegas or Los Angeles.

“Exactly how many times have you seen this production?” Trace whispered close to her ear.

She grinned at him and lifted both of her hands, signaling that she’d seen it ten times. He shook his head and smirked. She didn’t bother telling him that Erica had probably seen it twice as many times.

Trace reached over and interlocked his hand with hers and Connie smiled. They had reconciled almost a week ago...and this was their first official date. She never knew she could love someone as much as she loved this man. Those few days that they’d been apart had given her time to do some soul-searching. Being separated from him had almost broken her, though. Watching him leave the safe house that day had felt like a part of her heart had walked out the door with him. But after a long talk over dinner the night after she had ID’d Daniel Atkinson, she was confident that they could make their relationship work.

“How long is this show?” Trace whispered.

Connie grinned. “We just got here. You can’t be tired of it yet.” His left eyebrow lifted as if to say “you wanna bet?”

An hour into the show, Connie’s leg bounced up and down as she debated whether to make a quick run to the ladies’ room or wait until intermission. But there wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t know what to expect at that point. It didn’t matter how many bathroom stalls the building had; it was guaranteed that there would be a line for women.

She’d wait until ten minutes before intermission. At least then, if a line had formed already, it wouldn’t be too long.

I really have to use the bathroom, Connie thought as she squeezed her thighs together and checked her watch. She was worse than a little kid trying to hold it.

Trace put his arm around her, resting it on the back of her seat, then leaned in. “What’s wrong?”

Connie shook her head. Did the man miss anything? It was amazing how tuned in he was to her. Then again, she had been wiggling in her seat.

She leaned close to his ear. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, let’s go,” he said, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

Connie didn’t want him to miss any of the show since he hadn’t seen it before. But she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let her walk out by herself. It didn’t matter that Daniel Atkinson was in custody and being charged with murder, as well as armed robbery. Trace was overprotective by nature.

“Okay,” she said.

They stood, and Trace held her hand as they quietly stepped over people, whispering “excuse me” along the way. Thankfully they were close to the end of the row and didn’t have to cross in front of too many people.

Once they were in the foyer, they headed down the extra-wide, semispiraled staircase that took them to the lower level. Connie suggested Trace get them a drink before intermission. That way they could beat the crowd and long lines.

“Okay, but meet me right here in seven minutes,” he insisted.

Connie laughed. “Seriously? How do you know I don’t need more time than that?”

Trace slipped his large hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. “Seven minutes and not a minute longer.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Now hurry up.”

“All right. I’ll be back.”

Connie speed-walked to the other end of the long foyer, humming the song that the actors were singing when she and Trace walked out. She couldn’t remember being as happy as she’d been over the last few days. Even being told that her house wasn’t structurally safe and would need to be demolished hadn’t put a damper on her mood. For now, she had worked it out with Trinity and would rent the safe house for as long as she needed.

Connie hurried into the ladies’ room and took care of business. Once done, she stood at the sink washing her hands and checked herself out in the mirror. Her hair was still in place, but her lipstick could use a touch-up. By the time she was finished primping, her time was up.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one who wanted to beat the rush, huh?” a woman said as she burst into the bathroom.

Connie smiled. “Nope. Great minds think alike. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

“Thanks—you, too.”

Connie stepped out of the ladies’ room, but stopped and glanced around. She didn’t recall there being a wall to her right, and the area was more secluded than she remembered.

“What the...?” She glanced back at the door she had come out of and realized she must’ve exited out a different way.

She shook her head. Her sense of direction needed work, and she needed to hurry. Otherwise, Trace was going to come looking for her.

Connie hadn’t taken three steps before she was pushed hard in the back. She gasped, and before she could get her hands up to brace for impact, the side of her head slammed into a wall.

Pain shot through her skull.

Stars floated in front of her eyes.

Her knees went weak.

Dazed, with her head pounding and her face throbbing, she blinked several times to get her bearings. She didn’t have a chance to react when strong arms snaked around her waist and hauled her off the floor.

Whoever it was wasn’t Trace. She knew his touch, knew his scent.

Panic roared through her body.

Connie screamed, but a hand slapped over her mouth.

“No! Let me go! Let me go!” she screamed, not caring that her words were muffled.

She kicked her legs. Swung her arms. Anything to get away. The person was too strong, but she wouldn’t give up. Her arms rotated like helicopter propellers as she twisted, kicked and wiggled, praying that someone would see the struggle.

“Stop it!” The man jerked her and growled in her ear. Then he spun her around, and Connie’s heart stopped.

It can’t be.

Daniel Atkinson?

His gray eyes sparked, and he flashed an evil grin. “Surprise. I told you I’d see you again.”

Connie kicked, aiming for his privates, but he moved and she made contact with his leg. Still, it caught him off guard. She took off and tried to run away, but he was too fast.

“Hel—” she screamed, but he covered her mouth again and lifted her off the floor.

Her heart thumped violently inside her chest, but she kept wiggling in his arms. Despite her struggling against him, he dragged her toward an exit. Connie used all of her strength to keep twisting and turning, anything to make it hard for him to carry her. He might kill her inside the theater, but if he got her outside, she was as good as dead.

If she just held on a little longer, Trace would be there. The thought of him made her fight harder as tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t let this man take her.

Trace strolled through the vestibule, his shoes silent on the multicolored carpet. He had only been to this particular theater twice, but never for a Broadway show. He thought about how Connie had seen the show ten times and wondered what the draw was. Sure, the music and singing were decent, but ten times?

He shook his head. Nothing, no type of entertainment, was enjoyable enough for him to see it that often. Even reruns of boxing matches couldn’t keep his interest enough to see more than once, and that was one of his favorite sports. But if his baby was happy, that was all that mattered.

Langston had called him whipped. That was what he was when it came to her, and damn if it didn’t feel good. Taking a step back to take their time in getting to know each other had been the best decision. More than ever, he was looking forward to a future with her.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He started not to answer it, but figured he could at least check to see who was calling. He glanced at the screen.

Maxwell.

Instead of going to the bar, Trace stepped off to the side and answered. “Hello.”

“We have a situation,” Maxwell said by way of greeting. “Daniel Atkinson has a twin. An identical twin brother.”

“Wait. What?” Trace said, trying to figure out what his friend was talking about.

“There’s two of them, Trace. Daniel and his brother David. Daniel is the one in custody and affiliated with the One-Seven gang. His brother is probably the one you had words with at the fashion show.”

Trace’s heart hammered against his chest as he turned and headed back the way he’d come. Connie might not be in danger, but he’d feel better if he had eyes on her.

“He’s scum,” Maxwell continued. “A couple of years ago, murder charges were brought up on David in Oakland, but the DA couldn’t make the charges stick. Now there’s a warrant out in Los Angeles for his arrest on another incident, which might be why he’s been pretending to be his brother and using Daniel’s name. Anyway, keep Connie close because the guy is accused of sexual assault and assault with a deadly weapon.”

“I gotta go.” Trace ended the call and took off in a run toward the ladies’ room. He wanted to believe that Connie was fine, but he wouldn’t be comfortable until he saw for himself.

The closer he got to the area, the more his anxiety amped up. He was just about to plow into the restroom when the door swung open, and a woman walked out.

She gasped and her hand went to her chest. “Oh, my God. You scared me.”

“Did you see a lady in there? Cute. Long curly hair and a little shorter than you?”

“Uh, yeah, but I think she went out the other door.” She pointed down the hall, and Trace ran in that direction.

He couldn’t see the door, and when he got closer, he heard a scuffle.

“Shut up!” a man’s voice growled.

Trace went around the corner and his blood turned to ice in his veins. The man had his back to him, and he was standing near an exit, struggling to get Connie out the door.

“Hey!” Trace yelled and lunged for the guy. Rage thundered through him. All he could think about was getting the man away from Connie.

Trace wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. Tightened. Squeezed. He dragged him backward until he released Connie. She fell to the floor.

Trace seethed with anger and spun the man around. He slammed his fist into David Atkinson’s face and sent him staggering back. The man stumbled. Shook his head and righted himself. He glared at Trace with so much hatred that if his eyes had been weapons, Trace would be dead.

“I’m going to kill you!” Atkinson roared and charged.

He didn’t get far. Trace grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him to the floor. He pounced on him. Gripping his neck and holding him down, he punched Atkinson in the face. He jabbed him again. Over and over and over until he drew blood.

“Trace! Trace!” He heard Connie screaming his name, but he couldn’t stop. The thought of the man’s hands on her made him even angrier, and he wanted to end David’s miserable life. One punch after another, he wanted him to pay for terrorizing her.

“All right, all right. That’s enough!” Someone grabbed Trace from behind and jerked him off of Atkinson.

Trace didn’t give a damn about David; he looked around frantically for Connie. People were gathered everywhere, and though he heard her crying, he didn’t see her.

“Connie!” he yelled and pushed past people until he saw her hurrying toward him. He lifted her, not thinking about whether she was hurt anywhere. He just needed to hold her.

“He was going to kill me,” she cried, wrapping her arms in a death grip around his neck.

Her sobs came loud and hard, and her body shook violently. Trace held on. He fought his own tears as he buried his face into her hair. He could’ve lost her tonight.

“I love you. I love you so damn much. I thought...” He couldn’t finish the statement. His chest tightened as he continued holding her. Knowing he could’ve lost her tonight scared him to death. “Baby, I’m never letting you go. Do you hear me? I’m never letting you go.”

“Don’t... Please...don’t. I love you...”

Trace could barely make out her muffled words, but he heard what was most important. She loved him, too.

A month later...

“Oh, Trace. This is lovely,” Connie said in awe when she stepped out on the patio of their beach villa. They were vacationing in the Bahamas, and it was their first day there.

The night air was warm and a little muggy as the waves crashed against the rocks, and a slight breeze kissed her heated cheeks. Connie always thought the balcony at his condo was the most peaceful place. But she had to admit, since being on vacation, their little slice of beach paradise was a close second.

She glanced around the patio, noting the areas that Trace had transformed. Clearly, he’d had help. Small twinkling lights had been hung on the side of the villa, just over the door and windows that faced the ocean. The table for two, covered in a white tablecloth with a large votive candle flickering in the middle, illuminated just enough for her to see the covered dishes. On the other side of the patio were two massage beds covered with white sheets. Soft jazz pierced the night, and Connie felt like she was in paradise.

“This is absolutely amazing.”

“I figured we’d eat first,” Trace said, pulling out a chair for her. “Then I have a couple of masseuses coming to give us a massage.”

He claimed the seat across from her and poured two glasses of champagne.

“Shall we make a toast?” Connie asked, holding up her glass. They’d been through so much together in the last six weeks, she felt they could handle anything going forward.

“We’re toasting to love, to perseverance and to happily-ever-afters. I love you, sweetheart, and I know we’re going to have an incredible life together. Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

“I love you more, and I appreciate you coming to my rescue and for being here for me every step of the way,” she said and clinked her glass to his before they took a sip.

When Trace suggested they get away for a few days, Connie had had no idea that, with Trinity and Erica’s help, he had already planned the trip. The itinerary covered ten days. The first seven days were just for the two of them to decompress, lie out on the beach and continue getting to know each other. They’d decided to slow down and get their relationship on track before thinking about marriage and a family. Connie had no doubt that they’d get there.

They were officially dating, and every day, she fell more and more in love with her man. Each day he did or said something that assured her that he was perfect for her, and that he would always protect her. She never knew it was possible to love someone so much and so completely until she’d met Trace.

The last three days of their trip would be spent with Trace’s father and his father’s girlfriend. Connie couldn’t wait to meet the man who had raised four children as a single parent.

“Now, for dinner,” Trace said, interrupting her thoughts. With a wave of his arms, he dramatically removed the stainless-steel plate covers. “Ta-da!”

Connie stared at the table. French toast. Sausage. Hash browns. “Oh, Trace,” she cooed, her hands on her chest. “I can’t believe you remembered. Breakfast for dinner. My favorite.”

“That’s not all.” He ran into their villa and returned with a plastic container.

Her mouth dropped open. “No... Those aren’t your to-die-for cookies, are they?”

“They are,” he said, grinning, and set the container on a cabinet next to the table.

“How? How did you do all of this? We haven’t even been here twenty-four hours. And the cookies? I know you didn’t have them when we first arrived.”

“Never mind how—just dig in. Our masseuses will be here in forty-five minutes.”

As Connie looked back over the last six weeks, so much of it seemed like a bad dream. The bank robbery and Richard’s murder had started a snowball effect. Before she knew it, she’d been living a nightmare.

It had been like something out of a thriller novel, and Connie was glad it was over. It still blew her mind that the gray-eyed man, Daniel, the one she had seen at the bank, had an identical twin. She’d been shocked to learn that there were two of them, and the only difference in their appearance was that David, the model, didn’t have any visible tattoos.

David was by far the evil twin, as far as Connie was concerned. During his interrogation, he had admitted to setting her house on fire and tracking her down the day before he confronted her at the theater. Knowing that she could’ve died at his hands was still unnerving. She didn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if Trace hadn’t gotten to her in time.

Now that Daniel and David were behind bars, she could breathe easier. They were waiting to stand trial, and with all of the charges against them—robbery, murder and attempted murder, to name a few—it was safe to say that they’d be in jail for the rest of their lives.

Trace and Langston were officially in business together. After Trace resigned from LEPA, a couple of weeks later, Langston left the FBI. They were in talks with Trinity about building a partnership with LEPA and their own PI agency. Of course, she loved the idea, but had one stipulation for the guys—they both had to agree to fill in if ever she was short of security specialists. They agreed.

All of their lives were moving forward. Connie was still living in the safe house, but she and Trace were discussing moving in together. No time soon, but the idea was on the table.

“I guess the only thing missing is Vinnie Montell,” Trace said with a straight face, then burst out laughing.

Connie shook her head and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t understand why every time Vinnie’s name came up Trace broke out laughing.

“From this day forward, do not mention his name,” she said with mock disgust.

“Oh...” He sobered, but it was easy to see that he was fighting a smile. “What? Too soon?” Again, he lost it and stumbled out of his seat.

Connie couldn’t hold back her own laughter. Despite all the bad things that had happened in the past weeks, and the losses she had endured, including Vinnie, something good had come of it all.

Trace.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. If it meant reliving the worst weeks of her life to have him...she’d do it all over again.