“Hel—” she screamed, but he covered her mouth again and lifted her off the floor.
Her heart thumped violently inside her chest, but she kept wiggling in his arms. Despite her struggling against him, he dragged her toward an exit. Connie used all of her strength to keep twisting and turning, anything to make it hard for him to carry her. He might kill her inside the theater, but if he got her outside, she was as good as dead.
If she just held on a little longer, Trace would be there. The thought of him made her fight harder as tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t let this man take her.
* * *
Trace strolled through the vestibule, his shoes silent on the multicolored carpet. He had only been to this particular theater twice, but never for a Broadway show. He thought about how Connie had seen the show ten times and wondered what the draw was. Sure, the music and singing were decent, but ten times?
He shook his head. Nothing, no type of entertainment, was enjoyable enough for him to see it that often. Even reruns of boxing matches couldn’t keep his interest enough to see more than once, and that was one of his favorite sports. But if his baby was happy, that was all that mattered.
Langston had called him whipped. That was what he was when it came to her, and damn if it didn’t feel good. Taking a step back to take their time in getting to know each other had been the best decision. More than ever, he was looking forward to a future with her.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He started not to answer it, but figured he could at least check to see who was calling. He glanced at the screen.
Maxwell.
Instead of going to the bar, Trace stepped off to the side and answered. “Hello.”
“We have a situation,” Maxwell said by way of greeting. “Daniel Atkinson has a twin. An identical twin brother.”
“Wait. What?” Trace said, trying to figure out what his friend was talking about.
“There’s two of them, Trace. Daniel and his brother David. Daniel is the one in custody and affiliated with the One-Seven gang. His brother is probably the one you had words with at the fashion show.”
Trace’s heart hammered against his chest as he turned and headed back the way he’d come. Connie might not be in danger, but he’d feel better if he had eyes on her.
“He’s scum,” Maxwell continued. “A couple of years ago, murder charges were brought up on David in Oakland, but the DA couldn’t make the charges stick. Now there’s a warrant out in Los Angeles for his arrest on another incident, which might be why he’s been pretending to be his brother and using Daniel’s name. Anyway, keep Connie close because the guy is accused of sexual assault and assault with a deadly weapon.”
“I gotta go.” Trace ended the call and took off in a run toward the ladies’ room. He wanted to believe that Connie was fine, but he wouldn’t be comfortable until he saw for himself.
The closer he got to the area, the more his anxiety amped up. He was just about to plow into the restroom when the door swung open, and a woman walked out.
She gasped and her hand went to her chest. “Oh, my God. You scared me.”
“Did you see a lady in there? Cute. Long curly hair and a little shorter than you?”
“Uh, yeah, but I think she went out the other door.” She pointed down the hall, and Trace ran in that direction.
He couldn’t see the door, and when he got closer, he heard a scuffle.
“Shut up!” a man’s voice growled.
Trace went around the corner and his blood turned to ice in his veins. The man had his back to him, and he was standing near an exit, struggling to get Connie out the door.
“Hey!” Trace yelled and lunged for the guy. Rage thundered through him. All he could think about was getting the man away from Connie.
Trace wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. Tightened. Squeezed. He dragged him backward until he released Connie. She fell to the floor.
Trace seethed with anger and spun the man around. He slammed his fist into David Atkinson’s face and sent him staggering back. The man stumbled. Shook his head and righted himself. He glared at Trace with so much hatred that if his eyes had been weapons, Trace would be dead.
“I’m going to kill you!” Atkinson roared and charged.
He didn’t get far. Trace grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him to the floor. He pounced on him. Gripping his neck and holding him down, he punched Atkinson in the face. He jabbed him again. Over and over and over until he drew blood.
“Trace! Trace!” He heard Connie screaming his name, but he couldn’t stop. The thought of the man’s hands on her made him even angrier, and he wanted to end David’s miserable life. One punch after another, he wanted him to pay for terrorizing her.
“All right, all right. That’s enough!” Someone grabbed Trace from behind and jerked him off of Atkinson.
Trace didn’t give a damn about David; he looked around frantically for Connie. People were gathered everywhere, and though he heard her crying, he didn’t see her.
“Connie!” he yelled and pushed past people until he saw her hurrying toward him. He lifted her, not thinking about whether she was hurt anywhere. He just needed to hold her.
“He was going to kill me,” she cried, wrapping her arms in a death grip around his neck.
Her sobs came loud and hard, and her body shook violently. Trace held on. He fought his own tears as he buried his face into her hair. He could’ve lost her tonight.
“I love you. I love you so damn much. I thought...” He couldn’t finish the statement. His
