Trace of Fever
Page 51

They did seem like animal lovers; Dare’s girls were certainly pampered. They were members of the family, which made it all the more special.
Priss took her time talking quietly with Liger, hoping he’d understand her absence and not feel abandoned. He touched his nose to hers, gave her one of his sweet little meows, then went to lie by Tai and Sargie.
It was almost as if he wanted her to know that he’d be fine. She swallowed a lump of emotion and blinked back hot tears.
By the time she and Trace were back in the old truck, ready to pull away, Priss did feel better about leaving Liger behind.
“At least he’ll be safe,” she said as much to herself as to anyone else.
Trace put a hand on her knee. “That’s more than I can say for you.”
Dare leaned in her window. “Be smart, Priss, and listen to Trace.”
Priss scowled at him. “Why doesn’t he have to listen to me?”
After a long stare-off, Dare peered past Priss to Trace and said, totally deadpan, “Listen to Priss.”
Trace grinned. “I’ll try if she will.”
Priss put up her chin. “I make no promises—but whenever possible, I’ll try.”
Dare reached in and ruffled her perfectly styled hair, much like she’d seen him do with his dogs. Trace didn’t like that, which amused Priss. His territorial tendencies were new to her. Sure, her employee Gary tried to act possessive, but that idea was so laughable that it annoyed more than it complimented.
As Trace backed out, Priss waved to the assembly in the driveway. It included Chris, Dare and Molly, with both dogs and Liger lounging in the sunshine.
It was the strangest thing, but it felt like she was leaving…family. Not the dysfunctional family she and her mother had formed, but a real family.
Pressing a fist to her chest to try to contain the hurt in her heart, Priss accepted the sad truth: after she retrieved Liger, the chances of her ever seeing these people again would be slim to none, and slim was out of town.
They were nothing to her—just as she was nothing to them. For the first time, she really felt the loss.
“You okay, Priss?”
God, it amazed her how easily Trace picked up on her moods. He’d done that from the very beginning, which either made him lethally perceptive, or…a truly wonderful guy.
Resting her head back against the seat, she looked at him. He had a gorgeous profile. She’d teased Molly about the guys always being handsome, but to her, Trace was by far the most incredible. Even this Jackson person Molly had mentioned couldn’t hold a candle to Trace, she was sure of it. “I’m fine.”
He shook his head to let her know he didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press her, either.
For the longest time, they drove in companionable silence along gravel roads that turned to paved and eventually gave way to busier streets that melded into highway ramps.
While Trace repeatedly stole looks at her, Priss took note of all the beautiful scenery. There were rolling green hills, natural lakes and ponds, and many horse farms.
“Kentucky?” she finally guessed.
“Yeah.” Trace turned on the radio, not loud but on a music station. “Not far from home, though. We’ll cross the bridge over into Ohio in just a couple of hours.”
It was such a nice concession, having Trace give her even a small but obvious fact, that she felt she owed him a truth. “You know, if it makes you feel better, my sense of direction sucks. I doubt I’d be able to find my way back here even if I had a GPS.”
Trace grinned. “Dare wasn’t worried.” He ruined what could have been a nice compliment by adding, “There was nothing in your background to suggest you’d be a threat in any way.”
“Mmm.” Priss looked out the window at a field of cows. “Let’s hope Murray sees it that way, too.”
The mention of Murray soured Trace’s mood. “I can’t get over how you look.”
And he didn’t sound happy about it. Curious, Priss watched him. “So how do I look?”
“Hot.” His mouth tightened, but he said, “Fuckable.”
Startled, she felt heat tinge her cheeks. “You smooth talker, you.”
“Forget smooth.” He squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m worried about how Murray’s going to react when he sees you.”
His worry started to chew on her, too. “I’m his daughter, remember?”
Trace cursed low. “Murray’s not going to care that you’re supposedly related.”
Supposedly? So he still didn’t believe her about that? Well, truthfully, she couldn’t be one hundred percent about it herself. Her mother’s best guess put Murray as the paterfamilias, and that was all that mattered to Priss.
“What do you think he’ll do?”
Trace gave her a lingering glance, then returned his attention to the road. “Given how you look—”
“Fuckable?”
“Yes. And like a prime piece of salable property.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t much of an improvement, but she got his point. Murray was in the business of selling human property. If he thought he could make money off her…
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to use you to cement a deal, sort of as the icing on the cake, and at the same time he could remove you as a threat to his empire.”
Her skin started to crawl. “You think he sees me as a threat?”
“To get where he’s at now, Murray had to be shrewd in the beginning. But these days, his lust for power warps everything else, and now he’s just a deranged, sick paranoid who sees everyone as a threat.”