Connie came up beside Trace and touched his arm. “Let him go.” She took a giant step back. Maybe she knew he wouldn’t release the guy while she was standing close to him.
“Stay away from her,” Trace said, his voice low and lethal as he applied a little more pressure against the man’s throat, “or I will make you sorry you ever looked at her.”
“Release him,” Connie said again, authority in her tone.
Trace reluctantly dropped his arm from the guy’s throat, then stood next to Connie. The man slumped forward, his hands on his knees as he coughed a few times. When he was done, he slowly stood to his full height and straightened the suit jacket he was wearing.
“I don’t know who you are or what your problem is, but put your hands on me again—” the model pointed a finger at Trace “—and you’ll regret the day you ever came near me. I promise you that.”
Trace didn’t scare easily, and though he didn’t feel threatened by the words, there was hardness in the man’s eyes that gave Trace pause. He’d seen that look often enough during his combat days. This guy might appear harmless, but he had a feeling there was more to him than what they could see.
John Doe turned his attention to Connie. His appreciative gaze traveled down her body and back up again. To Connie’s credit, she didn’t wither under his stare. She stood her ground, looking fierce and sexy at the same time.
The man took his time shuffling backward toward the door. Then he opened it, but didn’t walk out. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder and pinned Connie in place with his eyes. Then he blew her a kiss. “Until we meet again...” With that, he was gone.
“I’m going to kill him.” The words were out of Trace’s mouth before he could pull them back, but he meant it. He released a long, unsteady breath, feeling as if he’d been submerged under water for an hour, and then suddenly his head was above the surface.
“Okay, will one of you tell me what the heck is going on?” Riley snapped.
Trace shook his head. “The hell if I know.”
There was only one thing he knew for sure. He would continue to be Connie’s shadow for the foreseeable future.
CHAPTER 17
A half hour later, they strolled into Connie’s house and she disarmed the security system. For the last few days, it seemed as if she’d been walking through a nightmare and couldn’t wake up.
What a night, she thought.
The fashion show had been spectacular. Being with Trace was like a dream come true. Even dressing up and mingling with clients and others she’d just met had been fun. Not until she spotted Mr. Gray Eyes onstage did the evening start to fall apart.
Never in a million years did she think she’d see him again, especially in a matter of days. At first, when he strutted down the catwalk, Connie thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wasn’t until he looked dead at her that she’d almost had a heart attack. Even then, though, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure who she was seeing—the guy at the bank or the one from the restaurant. For all she knew, they were one and the same.
Connie glanced at Trace. He had just shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and draped it on the back of one of the dining-room chairs. Now he was tugging on his bow tie, looking deep in thought.
He hadn’t said much on the way back. Yet he’d stuck to her like a second skin. Riley, who had one of the company’s cars, had driven them home. While they rode in the back seat, Trace held on to her hand. He acted like if he released her, she’d run away.
For a while there, she thought maybe he was pissed that she hadn’t followed his instructions. The plan had been for her to stay with Noah while Trace talked to the mystery man. But right now, that didn’t seem to be what was bothering him. He was working out something in his head. No surprise there. The last few days had given them both a lot to think about.
She had never seen Trace as angry as he’d been in that back room. Granted, she saw how upset he was when he ran into Indie the other day, but that was different. That day Connie had witnessed Trace in pain. Tonight, though, she saw a different side to him. There was no telling what he would’ve done to Mr. Gray Eyes had she not asked him to let the guy go.
Just thinking about the model’s creepiness had her trembling inside. He might’ve been good-looking, but he was a little scary at the same time. It had been a tense few minutes, standing there with him inspecting her. Trace had just about lost his mind.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” Connie said. “I should’ve waited with Noah as instructed. I wasn’t thinking about the risk I could be in or the compromising position I put you and the other guys in.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I might’ve overreacted, but seeing the man leering at you did something to me.”
Under other circumstances, Connie would’ve been flattered to have Trace defending her honor. However, this situation made her uncomfortable on so many levels. She never wanted to be the cause of him getting hurt. Nor did she ever want to be the reason he got into trouble with the law.
“He didn’t have a tattoo. At least not one I could see,” Trace said, squinting as if trying to remember something. “The guy at the bank—where exactly was his tat?”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Connie asked.
Trace’s eyebrows drew together. “What?” He tossed the bow tie onto the table and strolled over to where she was standing in the kitchen. “Sweetheart, of course I believe you. Why would you even doubt that?”
Connie sighed
