Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [132]
“And you’ve been set on wiping out human traffickers since then?”
“Something like that.”
Having it hit close to home had probably spurred Trace, but Priss knew he’d never turn a blind eye to injustice or cruelty. Keeping her tone gentle, she asked, “How long did they have her?”
“Only a few days. But they took her across the southern border into Tijuana.” Trace flexed his hands on the steering wheel. “I couldn’t go after her. She was kidnapped by people who knew me.”
Guessing how devastating that’d be for Trace, Priss covered her mouth. “So if you’d gone, it might have put her at more risk?”
Restless, he pawed the steering wheel as if he wanted to break it in two. “It still burns my ass to think about it.”
Because he was a take-charge man, but when the one person he cared about most had needed him, he’d been forced to sit back and entrust her rescue to others. “How did you get to her?”
“Dare went instead, and I…” He sucked in an angry breath. “I waited for news.”
She put a hand on his thigh. “I’m sure Dare is…competent?”
That made Trace laugh, but it had more to do with irony than with humor. “Yeah, he’s competent.”
“Good.”
Trace gave her a look, and then shook his head. “Dare killed all of the bastards, freed the women and came home not only with Alani, but with an additional surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
A genuine smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “That’s where he met Molly.”
Priss’s hand fell away and her mouth dropped open. “You mean…?”
“He found her in Tijuana when he went in after my sister. Molly had been taken, too, and he brought them both back across the border.”
It made sense, now that she knew. She remembered how the men had shielded Molly, their concern, when Priss had mentioned Murray to her. “I thought there was something about Molly….”
“She’s a strong woman.”
“And your sister?” She touched him again, his biceps, then his shoulder, and she wanted to go on touching him, everywhere. “She’s strong, too?”
“God, I hope so. She seems to be dealing with it okay.”
Priss didn’t push, and then Trace pulled out his cell. “That reminds me, I need to call Jackson now that we’re clear. I’ll be just a second, okay?”
Nodding, Priss retreated back to her own side of the car. She let out a breath and stretched out her legs. A yawn took her by surprise. “Take however long you need. I don’t mind.”
TRACE MARVELED AT THE odd sort of serenity that settled over Priss. She held up better than any woman should have, but then, Priss was unlike any other woman he’d met.
Jackson answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in.” Trace watched the road, but he also stole glances at Priss. Her relaxed posture and even breathing belied any stress at all. Amazing. “The authorities handled things?”
“Like pros. They might not have a proper task force, but they know what they’re doing. All’s well.”
Trace had expected no less, but he wanted to hear Jackson’s take on things. “How so?”
“Several female officers were on the scene. They brought an unmarked van instead of a paddy wagon, food, blankets, drinks… It was the best anyone could hope for.”
It relieved Trace to know the department had shown some sensitivity. “And the offices?”
“They closed in right on cue. Rounded up everyone.” In a hasty afterthought, Jackson asked, “Did you know Murray had Helene tied up, gagged and doped to the gills with one of her own psychotropic concoctions? I’m told she was totally out of it.”
He’d known that Murray planned to kill Helene, but not the details. “She’ll be okay?”
“If a life behind bars is your definition of okay.” Jackson made a sound of impatience. “So. If that’s all you wanted—”
Trace frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope. No problem.”
That curt answer did nothing to reassure Trace. “Then why are you rushing me?”
“Did you want something else?”
“No, damn it.” Priss looked at him with raised brows, so Trace moderated his tone. “But unless you have somewhere to be—”
Jackson let out a