“No problem” was all Langston said before he started driving.
“Who did you text?” Connie asked.
“Indie. It’s too late to reach the fashion-show organizers tonight, and I don’t want to wait for morning. I’m hoping she can help because I need to know the real name of the gray-eyed man. Because it sure as hell ain’t John Doe.”
CHAPTER 19
Thirty minutes later, Langston turned into a new development that included single-family homes and town houses. Mixed feelings gripped Connie. She had just gone house hunting with her sister recently; who’d have thought she’d soon need to do the same for herself? Riding through the neighborhood also made her think about Richard. All of this craziness in her life started at the bank and with him, her loan officer.
Don’t think. Just try to relax, Connie told herself. She’d drive herself nuts if she kept replaying everything in her mind.
After a few more turns through the neighborhood, Langston pulled into the driveway of a home a little bigger than hers. The overhead door of the two-car attached garage lifted, and he drove in and parked. It had been a quiet ride to his place, and even now, no one spoke. Connie was thankful for that. After leaving her home, she wasn’t really in the mood to talk, though she would have to at some point.
Once the overhead door went back down, Langston left them in the SUV and went into the house.
Trace didn’t move. His head was back against the seat, and he stared straight ahead. If he was like her, he was probably emotionally and mentally exhausted. But what if something else was wrong?
“Trace,” she said, concern bubbling inside her. He didn’t respond, but he’d heard her. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm slowly, seeming to be in no hurry to move.
Connie released a long, exhausted breath and laid her head back on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was almost soothing, or at least it would be if she could stop thinking. If she could stop thinking about how afraid she’d been when she dropped out of the bedroom window, maybe she could relax.
Despite the warm temperature in the car, a cold chill scurried down her spine. Memories of waking up to a burning house formed in her mind. No one should be awakened from a deep sleep like that, disoriented and scared.
Then there was Trace. Connie hadn’t missed the worry in his eyes right before he went out the window. Had he honestly thought she wouldn’t follow him? Little did he know, she would follow him to the moon if necessary.
She trusted him.
Trusted him more than she had ever trusted another man.
“Thank you for saving my life tonight,” she said in the quietness of the SUV.
He placed a kiss on top of her head. “There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”
“What made you decide to leave the house once we were outside? Why didn’t we wait for the fire department?”
“When I’m on protection duty, I try to think of worst-case scenarios and plan from there. Not that I had planned for what we just went through.” He shook his head. “That—that caught me totally off guard. On some of our assignments, especially the ones involving abusive spouses or stalkers, I try to think like the would-be attacker.”
“I don’t understand.”
Connie admired all of their security specialists, and she was sure she didn’t know half the craziness they had to deal with on assignments. Sure, there were debriefings, especially after certain assignments. Yet she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that their team probably kept some things to themselves.
“For instance, the fire tonight was started by somebody. If I set a house on fire intentionally, I’d want to see if the people got out. I’d want to know if the coroners had to be called in.
“So with those thoughts, I formed a plan. I didn’t see anyone in the backyard. So, at least for a little while, whoever set the fire will think that you’re still in there. Or that we’re still in there.”
“Dear God. How do people live with themselves when they do stuff like that? I just...I just can’t wrap my brain around that. Now there’s a chance that my neighbors will think I’m dead. That I burned up in the fire.”
“Maybe. Or they’ll think you weren’t home, especially if they don’t know your car is in the garage. We’re going to need to contact the Feds on the bank-robbery case, or I’ll get Langston to do it. Either way, they need to know what’s going on, since I’m ninety-nine percent sure that fire is connected to the robbers. But there’s also a chance that it could be connected to the gray-eyed dude. I was hoping to hear from Indie by now.”
“Trace, it hasn’t been that long since you texted her, and it’s also early in the morning.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “Hopefully, she knows that guy’s name and can give me some information on him. I don’t want her involved in this mess. So if I can get that information without having the Feds contact her, it’ll be better.”
“Okay.” Connie yawned noisily before she could cover it up. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Let’s get you inside.”
“Trace, if it was the bank robbers who set the fire, that means they know who I am.”
He released a long sigh and brushed some of her hair away from her face. “Yeah, I know.”
“How is that possible? I just don’t understand any of this. Why me? Why come after me? Do they know that I can partially ID one of them?”
She rattled off one question after another, getting angrier by the minute. Why was any of this happening to her, and when would it be over?
Trace told her about the call he’d gotten from Langston right before the fire. Neither of them knew enough
