“Yes.”
“Well, I’m thinking I must have seen him at the sandwich shop in passing.”
Trace nodded. That was possible, especially since the owner had said that the guy had been there a few times.
“Why’d you choose to corner him in that room instead of just calling the cops?” Connie asked and laid her head back on Trace’s chest.
“And tell the cops what? The guy hadn’t officially done anything. Yes, you recognized that he had the same unusual eye color as the robber, but outside of that, we had nothing. We both know that eye color is not a crime.”
“It’s not just that that made him stand out. It was something in his eyes. An emptiness. A coldness. I swear I felt a chill when we made eye contact at the bank.”
“Did you feel that tonight with the model?”
After a slight hesitation, Connie said, “Not exactly. Tonight wasn’t a coldness that I saw or sensed. It was more like...creepiness.”
Trace kissed the top of her head. “Well, hopefully we won’t run into him again.”
Trace wanted to believe they had, but his gut told him that they hadn’t seen the last of John Doe.
CHAPTER 18
Trace’s eyes eased open, and he blinked several times, slowly adjusting to the semidarkness in the bedroom. Moonlight crept in between the slats of the blinds, allowing just enough light for him to make out portions of the room.
He lay still, wondering what had awakened him. Listening for any sounds, he only heard Connie’s soft snores. He glanced down at where she was snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest and her wild curls hiding her face.
Despite how things had turned out at the fashion show, the rest of the evening had been amazing. If there was such a thing as being addicted to a person, that was what he was. He couldn’t imagine them going back to status quo: being just friends.
After their first round of sex, they’d gotten up and bumped around in the kitchen in search of snacks. Everything from leftover chicken and vegetables to popcorn and trail mix had made it to their plates. More importantly, they talked about anything and everything, from the latest movies they’d seen to favorite sex positions. No subject was off-limits. Once they were finished eating and chatting, they had tidied up the kitchen and returned to the bedroom for another round of mind-blowing sex. That was why he should’ve been knocked out, like Connie, but Trace had never been a sound sleeper.
He brushed his hand up and down Connie’s hip and felt his eyes drift closed as sleep gently pulled him back under. No sooner had he felt himself falling into a deep sleep than he heard his cell phone on the bedside table vibrating.
Trace tensed. Nothing good ever came from a phone call at three o’clock in the morning.
Trying not to wake Connie, he stretched out his left arm and twisted slightly until his hand made contact with the device. Squinting, he glanced at the screen and saw his brother’s name.
Langston.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“I have it on good authority that there was a breach with the bank’s security footage that the FBI obtained,” Langston said by way of greeting. “They were able to tell that someone else was viewing the video of the robbery while the Feds were viewing it.”
The unease from a moment ago quickly exploded into foreboding. Trace didn’t have to ask what bank, but why bounced around inside his head.
“Not sure who or why,” Langston continued, as if reading Trace’s mind. “The tech team assumes the hacker was looking for something. Or someone. I’m letting you know because I took a look at the footage, Trace. There’s a good shot of Connie.”
Trace bolted upright, forgetting that Connie was lying on him. She mumbled something in her sleep and turned onto her side, her back facing him.
“When did all of this happen?” he questioned, his voice low. “I mean, how long have the Feds known there might’ve been a breach?”
“I’m thinking they got the video the day of the robbery, but I have no idea when they realized the problem.” Langston had been whispering during the whole conversation. Now there was an echo in the background, as if he was walking through a tunnel. “I found out a few hours ago, but just had a chance to give you a heads-up.”
“Where are you?”
“Out and about,” he said.
Trace assumed his brother was on some type of assignment. Otherwise, he would’ve called earlier and not in the middle of the night.
“I’m heading home in a few, and before you ask, I don’t have anything else to share. This all might be a whole lot of nothing. It can even be a glitch in the system, but the tech team definitely believes someone hacked that part of the bank’s network. By the way, you didn’t hear this from me. They’re trying to keep it quiet until they know...”
The crashing sounds of glass breaking and a loud thunk snatched Trace’s attention. “Stay on the line,” he whispered and hastily slipped on his pants, then grabbed his gun.
Hurrying to the bedroom door, he cracked it open and glanced down the short hallway.
His heart slammed against his chest, and shock lodged in his gut.
Flames.
Before he could form a thought, the smoke detector blared.
“Trace!” his brother yelled in his ear, panic in his voice. “What is that? What’s happening?”
Trace hurried and closed the door. “Fire.” He quickly rattled off Connie’s address into the phone and learned that his brother was nearby. “Head this way, but don’t come to the house. We’re going to need a ride. I’ll call with our location.”
Connie jerked awake and bolted upright in bed, her bare breasts on full display and her hair sticking up all over. “What’s going—?”
“Get up,” Trace said in a rush. “We gotta get out of here.”
His heart pounded double time as
