Trace of Fever
Page 48

Murray wasn’t expecting that quick reply. He paused, cleared his throat. “Trace is right, of course.” And then with suspicion: “You say he caught someone watching you?”
“I don’t know if he caught anyone exactly. He just said he felt someone was. He looked around, and then he said I should move. I was going to call you to tell you, but he promised me that he’d take care of that when he saw you again. I’m—I’m not sure, but I think maybe he didn’t want to give me your phone number.”
“Really? How silly of him.” But Murray didn’t offer up the number. He wanted no direct links to Priss, and everyone knew why. If —maybe when—she turned up hurt or even dead, there could be no trails leading back to him.
“I’m glad he relocated you, Priscilla.” Tone silky, he asked, “Where are you staying now?”
Priss looked at Trace, and he prayed she’d remember to give her old address, the one she’d first lied about to Murray. He’d left enough of her belongings there to fool Murray if anyone went by and checked to see if she was in residence.
Without missing a beat, Priss related her old location to Murray, but she went one better by not dwelling on it. Overtalking a lie never gave credence; just the opposite. Priss handled it like a veteran. She gave the location, and then went on to chat about her clothes, her makeup, her painted nails.
In no time, Murray cut off her rambling enthusiasm to ask for Trace again.
God love her, Priss had done an excellent job of both boring Murray and convincing him of her ruse.
Even Dare seemed surprised by her expertise. He and Dare shared a look; Priss was a natural-born liar.
Not exactly a sterling quality for a young lady.
Trace took the phone. “Was there something else, Murray?”
“Yeah.” He bit off the word. “You knew she was being watched?”
“Of course. But again, I didn’t know if it was you or someone else. You told me to ensure her safety, so that’s what I did.”
With a lethal edge to his tone, Murray asked, “Who else did you think it might be?”
“An old boyfriend, a friend—no idea, really. I know she claimed not to have any relatives, but how do we know for sure? You didn’t say anything about tailing her, but I knew she had eyes on her.”
“You didn’t tell her it was likely to be me?”
“No. When she asked me why anyone would be watching us, I told her that you were a powerful man and a lot of people were jealous of you.”
“Good cover.” His voice lowered. “It’s uncanny, Trace, this sixth sense you have.”
Trace said nothing to that. Truth was, he should have known Murray would immediately check on her story, but he hadn’t even thought of it, and it pissed him off.
He had to stop being so distracted by Priss.
“So tell me.” Slick anticipation sounded in Murray’s tone. “Have you had her yet?”
Trace closed his eyes, wishing like hell that he’d taken the phone off of the speaker function. Priss didn’t need to hear this, but it was too late to do anything about that now. He could feel her staring at him, not so much with accusation as with uncertainty and curiosity.
Dare said nothing, did nothing. Trace knew he didn’t want to embarrass Priss further.
Opening his eyes again, Trace locked his gaze with Priss’s. “No time to work on that yet.”
“You slacker, you.” Murray chuckled. “Helene told me that you’d be right on it. I think she expected you to rape the girl as soon as I gave the order. She’s been fuming around here all day.”
“Fuming?” God, Hell would be the death of him.
“That’s right,” Murray said with interest. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was jealous.”
Priss gave him a look of pitying disgust and turned her head away.
“But you do know better.” Trace caught her elbow before she could move too far from him. “Because you know I’m not an idiot.”
“Yes. But lately, I’m not so sure with Hell.”
Christ, did that mean Murray would turn on his lover? Or worse, let her turn on someone else? Anything seemed possible.
“Anyway, I have other things to do now. Finish up with Priss as soon as you can. I don’t want you to be late tonight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I’ll see you then.”
After Murray disconnected the call, rage made the impulse to throw the phone nearly impossible to ignore. Instead he shoved it back in his pocket and looked at Dare.
His friend, not being an idiot, either, joined the others in the family room. Trace stepped up to Priss. “You okay?”
She flipped her hair back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The way her hair tumbled drew his hands. He lifted one long lock, expecting it to be stiff with hair spray. But Matt was even better than he’d thought. Her hair was soft, silky, and it turned him on. “Murray put you on the spot. That could’ve rattled anyone.”
“I’m not as delicate as you seem to think I am.”
“Maybe not.” He cupped her face in both hands. “But you are soft and small and, at select times, very sweet.”
She made a rude sound. “Sweet, huh? You’re as deranged as Helene.”
“I want nothing to do with that bitch on wheels.”
With a humorless laugh, Priss said, “I don’t think you have a choice on that one. Just as Murray’s willing to sacrifice me to test you, he’s willing to sacrifice you to test her. Everything is about tests with him. And I get the feeling few people ever pass muster.”