She grinned at him and lifted both of her hands, signaling that she’d seen it ten times. He shook his head and smirked. She didn’t bother telling him that Erica had probably seen it twice as many times.
Trace reached over and interlocked his hand with hers and Connie smiled. They had reconciled almost a week ago...and this was their first official date. She never knew she could love someone as much as she loved this man. Those few days that they’d been apart had given her time to do some soul-searching. Being separated from him had almost broken her, though. Watching him leave the safe house that day had felt like a part of her heart had walked out the door with him. But after a long talk over dinner the night after she had ID’d Daniel Atkinson, she was confident that they could make their relationship work.
“How long is this show?” Trace whispered.
Connie grinned. “We just got here. You can’t be tired of it yet.” His left eyebrow lifted as if to say “you wanna bet?”
An hour into the show, Connie’s leg bounced up and down as she debated whether to make a quick run to the ladies’ room or wait until intermission. But there wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t know what to expect at that point. It didn’t matter how many bathroom stalls the building had; it was guaranteed that there would be a line for women.
She’d wait until ten minutes before intermission. At least then, if a line had formed already, it wouldn’t be too long.
I really have to use the bathroom, Connie thought as she squeezed her thighs together and checked her watch. She was worse than a little kid trying to hold it.
Trace put his arm around her, resting it on the back of her seat, then leaned in. “What’s wrong?”
Connie shook her head. Did the man miss anything? It was amazing how tuned in he was to her. Then again, she had been wiggling in her seat.
She leaned close to his ear. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Well, let’s go,” he said, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Connie didn’t want him to miss any of the show since he hadn’t seen it before. But she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t let her walk out by herself. It didn’t matter that Daniel Atkinson was in custody and being charged with murder, as well as armed robbery. Trace was overprotective by nature.
“Okay,” she said.
They stood, and Trace held her hand as they quietly stepped over people, whispering “excuse me” along the way. Thankfully they were close to the end of the row and didn’t have to cross in front of too many people.
Once they were in the foyer, they headed down the extra-wide, semispiraled staircase that took them to the lower level. Connie suggested Trace get them a drink before intermission. That way they could beat the crowd and long lines.
“Okay, but meet me right here in seven minutes,” he insisted.
Connie laughed. “Seriously? How do you know I don’t need more time than that?”
Trace slipped his large hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. “Seven minutes and not a minute longer.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Now hurry up.”
“All right. I’ll be back.”
Connie speed-walked to the other end of the long foyer, humming the song that the actors were singing when she and Trace walked out. She couldn’t remember being as happy as she’d been over the last few days. Even being told that her house wasn’t structurally safe and would need to be demolished hadn’t put a damper on her mood. For now, she had worked it out with Trinity and would rent the safe house for as long as she needed.
Connie hurried into the ladies’ room and took care of business. Once done, she stood at the sink washing her hands and checked herself out in the mirror. Her hair was still in place, but her lipstick could use a touch-up. By the time she was finished primping, her time was up.
“I guess I wasn’t the only one who wanted to beat the rush, huh?” a woman said as she burst into the bathroom.
Connie smiled. “Nope. Great minds think alike. Enjoy the rest of the show.”
“Thanks—you, too.”
Connie stepped out of the ladies’ room, but stopped and glanced around. She didn’t recall there being a wall to her right, and the area was more secluded than she remembered.
“What the...?” She glanced back at the door she had come out of and realized she must’ve exited out a different way.
She shook her head. Her sense of direction needed work, and she needed to hurry. Otherwise, Trace was going to come looking for her.
Connie hadn’t taken three steps before she was pushed hard in the back. She gasped, and before she could get her hands up to brace for impact, the side of her head slammed into a wall.
Pain shot through her skull.
Stars floated in front of her eyes.
Her knees went weak.
Dazed, with her head pounding and her face throbbing, she blinked several times to get her bearings. She didn’t have a chance to react when strong arms snaked around her waist and hauled her off the floor.
Whoever it was wasn’t Trace. She knew his touch, knew his scent.
Panic roared through her body.
Connie screamed, but a hand slapped over her mouth.
“No! Let me go! Let me go!” she screamed, not caring that her words were muffled.
She kicked her legs. Swung her arms. Anything to get away. The person was too strong, but she wouldn’t give up. Her arms rotated like helicopter propellers as she twisted, kicked and wiggled, praying that someone would see the struggle.
“Stop it!” The man jerked her and growled in her ear. Then he spun her around, and Connie’s heart stopped.
It can’t be.
Daniel Atkinson?
His gray eyes sparked, and he flashed an evil grin. “Surprise. I told you I’d see you again.”
Connie kicked, aiming for his privates, but he moved
