Trace of Fever
Page 74

“I shouldn’t have said that.” Jackson closed the now-dead phone and knotted his fingers in his hair. “And I shouldn’t have put him on speaker phone.”
“I wouldn’t have given the phone back to you otherwise!” Trace had called with instructions for Jackson to do a check on an old factory. He wanted a blueprint to the building, and he wanted to know how long it had been out of operation and who owned it now. From what she’d heard, Jackson would leave much of that research to Dare, who would likely leave it to Chris. Little by little, she was learning the chain of command, and how they worked together as a minimal unit to accomplish so much.
After the business discussion, Trace had also asked about her, and when he found out she was fine and dandy— Jackson didn’t mention his cavalier treatment of the shower incident—he’d wanted to speak with her.
Priss was hoping that he’d come to her, that they could continue what he’d started. But before much was said, someone joined him. The conversation was muffled, but when Priss realized he was talking to Helene she’d known something was wrong. She’d asked Jackson how to put the cell phone on speaker so he could hear, too.
Jackson looked almost comically lost, so Priss shoved him again. “You have to go help him.”
Shaking his head in the negative, Jackson said, “If he’d wanted help, he’d have said so.”
“He couldn’t!”
“Baloney. Trace is cagey. He’d have gotten a message through, but instead he ended the call. You heard him, Priss. She asked him who he was calling, and he said no one. And that was the message.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I know that he wants me to stay right on top of you.”
“Idiot!” She wasn’t the one currently in trouble.
He frowned at her. “You know what I mean. In the figurative sense. If Trace had wanted me there, he could have said something…but he didn’t.”
He wasn’t going to go help Trace? “Are you out of your mind?”
“He didn’t, Priss.” Jackson paced away, looking almost as tortured as she felt. “Jesus. I know Trace. He’s slick. If he thought he couldn’t handle it—”
Handle Helene raping him? Oh, sure, he could maybe handle that.
But she couldn’t. And besides, who knew where Helene would draw the line? She could disfigure Trace with her warped idea of lust. And thinking that almost made her scream.
Unwilling to wait for Jackson to come to his senses, Priss spun around on her heel and headed for the door. “I’m going to him.”
“What? No, wait.” He caught her before she’d taken two full steps. “You don’t have a car.”
“I can grab a cab.”
Harassed, he shook her. “You don’t have any money.”
“So give me some money!”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Helene.” Shuddering in real reaction, he whispered, “I wouldn’t wish that fate on any guy. Well, you know, some guys are into that perverse shit, but Trace…no way. He’ll puke. He’ll wash his skin in bleach. He’ll—”
Priss slapped him.
Jackson’s head snapped around with the strength of the blow, but came back slowly, his eyes narrowed and mean. “Damn it, woman—”
She grabbed a fistful of chest hair and yanked his face down close to hers.
“Oeowww!”
Priss had no sympathy for him. “Let’s. Go.”
Through clenched teeth, with the first real anger she’d seen from Jackson, he ordered, “Turn me loose. Right now!”
Nerves twitching, Priss opened her fingers and Jackson stepped back, rubbing his chest. He glared at her.
“Be reasonable,” she said, trying for a more cajoling tone. “He needs us.”
“All right. I suppose I should— Wait…what did you say? You want to go with me?”
He made it sound like it was the most absurd thing ever. Priss tried to be very clear. “I will not stay here. If you don’t go, I will. If you try to go without me, I’ll find a way to get there on my own.”
As he strode into his bedroom, he said, “You’re asking the impossible.”
“Not asking. Stating as fact.” He returned, pulling a T-shirt on over his head. “I am going. With you or without you. Now what’s it to be?”
He glared at her. “Okay.”
“Really?” She was surprised at his quick turnaround.
“But only if you promise me that you’ll lay low and do exactly as I say, no questions asked and no arguments.”
She wouldn’t promise him anything. “We’re wasting time.”
“Promise me, or I swear I’ll hold you here and neither of us will go.”
Her mouth fell open. “What do you mean, you’ll hold me here?”
“You’re not dumb, Priss. You know what I mean.” Leaning close, nose to nose, he enunciated, “By force. Hell, woman, I’ll sit on you if I have to.” Only half under his breath, he murmured, “I’ve kinda wanted to do that anyway.”
She drew back, but he caught her fist. “Promise right now that you’ll behave.”
She’d behave, all right. She’d behave any damn way she pleased. “Sure. I promise.”
Disgust showed on his handsome face. “That’s about the most insincere promise I’ve ever heard.” He rearranged his hold on her to take her hand in his. “Come on. Let’s go.”