Connie rubbed her temples, feeling overwhelmed with what little they did know. “Assuming that this fire is attached to the robbers or the guy at the fashion show, I want to know how they got my information.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m planning to find out.”
* * *
After getting Connie settled into his brother’s guest room, Trace headed downstairs to the main level. When he strolled into the kitchen, Langston was sitting on one of the bar stools, typing on his laptop.
“Do you have anything stronger than beer in this place?” Trace asked as he perused the inside of the refrigerator.
“There’s rum in the cabinet over the coffee maker.”
Trace found the half-empty bottle and grabbed a glass. Instead of pouring two fingers’ worth, he doubled the amount.
“Rough night, huh?” Langston said without looking up from his computer screen.
Trace gulped half the glass of liquor, slammed his eyes shut and winced at the burn going down his throat. “You could say that,” he croaked. “Damn, this stuff is strong.”
“That’s the good stuff. Better to sip it than to slam it back.”
“Now you tell me.”
Trace dropped into one of the chairs at the small glass table and held his head. He was dog-tired, but he needed answers before he could get any sleep.
“I thought you said you were going to ride the bachelor train until the rails wear out.”
Trace glanced at his brother. Yeah, he remembered that conversation a few years ago when Langston was having woman problems. They had both agreed that the single life was the best life.
“What makes you think that’s not still the case?” Trace asked and took another sip of the dark liquor. It burned like hell going down his throat.
“Any blind person could see that you’re in love with Connie. I’ve never seen you look all googly-eyed at anyone. At least not the way you were doing earlier.”
Trace chuckled. “Googly-eyed. Seriously?”
When he and Connie had entered the house, Trace formally introduced her to Langston, even though they’d met briefly a few months ago at the office.
“I don’t do googly eyes,” Trace responded weakly. He was crazy about Connie, but was surprised his brother could tell just from the brief interaction. “Besides, she just went through a traumatic experience. I’m worried about her and want to make sure she’s all right.”
Langston shook his head. “Nah, bro. Tell it to someone who doesn’t know you. You’re in love with that woman.” He lifted his hand when Trace started to speak. “Save it. You don’t have to defend or deny it. I was just making an observation. Nothing you can say will make me think otherwise. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with you being in love. I like her.”
“You don’t even know her.”
His brother’s opinion of Connie meant a lot, he admitted to himself, and Trace looked forward to introducing her to the rest of the family. When he did, it would be the first—and only, if he had his way—time that he would introduce them to a woman he was serious about.
“I might not know her well, but I saw how she handled herself tonight. She’s a tough woman. I also noticed the same sickening you’re-my-everything expression in her eyes when she looked at you.” He shivered dramatically and made an expression of mock disgust. “I’m not sure what she sees in you, but she gawked at you like you hung the moon or something.”
A slow grin spread across Trace’s mouth. “Don’t hate, man. It ain’t a good look on you.”
Langston laughed and grabbed the bottle of rum. He poured two fingers’ worth and sat in the chair across from Trace.
“Tell me about her,” he said, shocking the heck out of Trace. “I know she’s the VP of Operations at LEPA, but what else do you know about her?”
Out of all his siblings, he and Langston were the closest. Not just because they were less than two years apart, but because they used to do everything together. But Trace could count on one hand how many times they’d discussed women they were interested in.
“She’s...amazing. Tough, yet gentle. Hardworking. But knows how to have fun. Sweet. But don’t take crap from nobody. Independent...well, she’s independent and stubborn as hell.”
They both laughed.
For the next few minutes, Trace told him about his and Connie’s relationship without sharing too much. The more Trace talked about her, the more he felt his heart swell with love. He wasn’t sure exactly when his feelings for her had grown more intense, but he couldn’t imagine not having her in his life now.
“I don’t know, man.” Trace took a sip of his drink, struggling to explain how this pint-size woman had snagged his heart. “I just... I like the way she makes me feel. Like I’m invincible, powerful, and like she needs me even though she’s self-sufficient. She also listens, even if I’m not really saying anything. If that makes any sense.”
Langston nodded as if he knew exactly what Trace was talking about. His brother had only been in one serious relationship that Trace could remember. When it ended, Langston had changed, gotten harder and more guarded. He dated on occasion, but never anything serious.
“I’m also comfortable with her. It’s like we’ve known each other forever. Like she’s always been a part of me.” Trace shrugged, unable to explain it any better than that.
“I get it.” Langston took another sip of his drink. “I’m heading to bed soon. Oh, and I forgot to tell you that I shot Max a quick text while we were outside of Connie’s house.”
“He knows about the fire?”
Langston nodded. “I told him that you think it’s arson and might be connected to the bank robbers. Like you, he thinks it’s a good idea for Connie to lie low.”
“Once we figure out who the man is, Connie can give the info to the Feds who are overseeing the bank-robbery case. Actually, you can relay the info,” Trace said.
“Nah, let Connie or Max do it.”
“Why can’t you
