“Maybe because you have the air conditioner on full blast,” Connie said, trying to lighten the moment. Trace wasn’t laughing, though.
The last thing she wanted was to keep thinking about the robbery. She’d held herself together through the ordeal, while being questioned and even while she worked with the sketch artist. It hadn’t been until she saw Trace and walked toward him that she’d felt her brave front slipping. Seeing the worry on his handsome face and the way he stared at her had loosened something inside her.
“It’s like you’re trying to freeze me to death,” she persisted, trying again to ease the tension in the car. “Of course, I’m—”
“Sweetheart, quit deflecting and talk to me.” His stoic expression was almost intimidating, but Connie knew he was only concerned about her well-being.
Right now, though, she would prefer it if he flashed that crooked grin that made her knees weak. Or she wouldn’t mind seeing his panty-dropping smile that always made her heart beat a little faster. He was such a gorgeous man, with smooth, sepia-toned skin, always flawlessly groomed with his hair cut low and his mustache and goatee perfectly trimmed. It was no wonder women practically threw themselves at him. He was that good-looking.
“Talk to me,” he repeated.
“Adrenaline, Trace. Maybe I’m trembling because the adrenaline that was pumping through my veins a while ago is slowly slipping away. I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous. This all seems unreal. One minute I’m making a deposit at the bank because the stupid app didn’t work. The next thing I know, I’m facedown on the floor while masked men hold me and other people at gunpoint. I might not have seen my life flash before my eyes, but I thought I was going to die.”
“Tell me what you told the cops.”
Connie swallowed as the bank scene filled her mind. She told Trace everything that had happened before she and Richard had realized the bank was being robbed.
“You see stuff like that in the movies or on TV, but to experience it felt like I was living out a nightmare.” Connie glanced out the windshield, watching as people walked in and out of the police station. “One robber was barking orders at the teller while the other two were making sure people didn’t move. Richard moved.”
Trace continued massaging the back of her neck, and Connie soaked up the comfort his hand provided. That, along with the heady scent of his cologne—a woodsy, citrus mix that surrounded her—was distracting. A good distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.
“What do you mean, he was moving?”
“Trace, can we just not talk about this right now?” The words flew from her mouth with more bite than intended, but she didn’t want to keep reliving this.
“Moving where?” he asked as if she hadn’t just asked him to drop it. “I need to know.”
Connie huffed out a breath. “At first, Richard was on the floor to my left. Then it looked as if he was trying to ease back into his office. I’m not a hundred percent sure what he was up to. He was barely moving. I don’t even know how the robber noticed. I felt Richard crawling before I actually saw him move. If that makes any sense. I’m not sure where the robber was standing, but he...” The words caught in her throat.
Connie tried focusing on how good the massage to her neck felt. She didn’t want to be taken back to the sounds in the bank. She didn’t want to relive those last moments of lying on the floor. More than anything, she didn’t want to see Richard being yanked to his feet like a rag doll.
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. God, please let him be all right.
“Tell me the rest,” Trace said gently.
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because someone other than the police, someone who has your back, should know what you saw, what you went through. I also want to know who or what type of people we’re dealing with. We don’t know if they’re random thugs. Or if they are a part of organized crime or a gang. I trust law enforcement to a point. I know they are going to try and get these guys, but I need to know everything. I need to know if there’s a chance that the perps, whoever they are, will come after you.”
He spoke with such passion and determination. The conviction behind each word warmed her heart, and deep down, she knew Trace was a man she could count on.
His dark, assessing eyes searched hers, and before Connie knew it, tears trailed down her cheeks. She quickly swiped them away, but they fell faster. Harder. She couldn’t keep up with them.
“This is ridiculous. I can’t seem to stop crying. I never cry.”
“Aww, sweetheart. It’s not my intent to upset you,” Trace said and pulled her into his arms.
It didn’t matter that the center console was cutting into her side; she needed this hug. Needed to be held close. The moment between them wasn’t sexually charged, like usual. Right now, he wasn’t the man she secretly liked more than she cared to admit. No, this was her coworker offering her comfort. Her friend. Nothing else.
“I’ve never been so scared in all of my life,” she mumbled against Trace’s shoulder before pulling away.
He opened the center console, pulled out a travel-size pack of tissue and handed it to her. “I hate it that you went through that, but I need to know what transpired when they caught Richard moving.”
“I actually screamed. I hurried and turned away, hoping they wouldn’t come over to where I was lying. Then it sounded like the guy and Richard might’ve been wrestling or something. I’m not totally sure. I didn’t see them. I could only hear the scuffle. Seconds later, there were gunshots. I knew immediately, because it sounded like the time Trinity took me to the gun range to teach me how to shoot. She told me to keep the ear protection on at all times, but I had taken them off once because—”
“Connie,” Trace said, pulling her from her ramblings.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just... Anyway, one of them shot him. People were whimpering and crying, and I just lay there. I was praying that I wouldn’t be next and I—I didn’t do anything to stop them or to help Richard.”
“There was nothing you could’ve done for Richard, especially at that point. If you had tried, you could’ve gotten yourself killed and possibly everyone else, too. You did the right thing staying put. That way, you could tell the authorities everything you saw and heard.”
Connie knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the guilt from eating at her. Maybe she could’ve distracted them. Maybe she could’ve screamed or acted out so that they would’ve left Richard alone. She just wished she could’ve, or would’ve, done something.
“They didn’t have to shoot him. They could’ve just roughed him up. Not that that would’ve been any better, but at least he wouldn’t be fighting for his life. At least his family wouldn’t be worrying about whether he’s going to live or die.”
Trace nodded, still studying her. Connie wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but the intensity of his stare was a little unnerving.
She swallowed and glanced away. “I heard the robbers run by me. I thought they were gone, but one had stopped near the exit.” The tightness in her chest squeezed with each word as the scene replayed in her mind. “He started lifting the black mask up from his neck. That’s when I saw part of his tattoo.”
“What type of tattoo?”
Connie shrugged. “Just an elaborate-looking tattoo. It didn’t look like the tribal one you have,” she said, heat rushing to her face.
She had seen his impressive body art on the night they’d spent together. It was located on the right side of his chest and torso, and a portion of it wrapped around his shoulder and upper bicep. No one would ever know he had a tattoo unless he went shirtless.
“I might be able to get my hands on a copy of the sketch,” Trace said, more to himself than to her. He pulled his cell phone from his front pants pocket and typed something.
Connie wasn’t sure how he planned to get a copy, but she had learned early on that Trace was resourceful, and she knew he had connections.
“Tell me what else you remember,” Trace said, giving her his full attention again.
“I only saw a small portion of the tat. I’m not even sure the description I gave the cops will help.” Connie stopped and took a breath. Then her mind took her back to the moment when she and the robber made eye contact. “He stopped.”
“Who stopped? The robber?”
She nodded. “He stopped lifting the mask. Turned. Then his gaze met mine. His eyes were an unusual gray. Almost silverish.” Connie debated whether or not to tell him this next part, something that had been nagging her since leaving the bank. “There’s a part I didn’t tell the cops. Mainly because I didn’t want them to think that I was in any way part of the heist, but the man’s eyes seemed...familiar. Like maybe I’d seen them before. I know it sounds crazy, especially since I don’t know anyone with gray eyes, but it was a feeling.”
Trace huffed out a loud breath and ran his hand over his mouth and down his chin. “Damn,” he mumbled and sat back in his seat. “And he saw you.”
“It was only a second, if that long. Like I said, everything happened so, so fast, and I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.”
“But, sweetheart, he saw you. I don’t care if it was one second or two. It was a second too long. For all we know, the guy has a photographic memory. Or, like you, he might’ve thought you looked familiar, too.”
“Are you trying to scare me? Is that what this line of questioning or conversation is about? Because if it is, it’s not working. I’m not afraid,” she said with the conviction of someone wanting to believe her own words. “The FBI agents said that my name would not be released for any reason. Everyone in the bank was questioned. We’re all witnesses, and I didn’t see much of the one robber. I probably couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup if I had to. I’m not afraid.”
“I’m glad you’re not, but I am. I don’t like any of this.”
Trace started the car and glanced around the lot as if looking for something or someone. Connie could easily see out, but his car windows were tinted so dark, there was no way anyone could see into the vehicle. She wasn’t sure why that thought set her at ease—a little—but it did.
In her heart, she was sure the robber wouldn’t recognize her even if he passed her on the street. Yet a small part of her kept wondering...what if he did?