Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [142]
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Table of Contents
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CHAPTER ONE ARMS CROSSED AND HIS shoulder propped against the wall outside the elaborate, corner high-rise office, Trace Rivers considered his options. Having an inside source would shorten his job. As a pseudobodyguard, he hadn’t been given the opportunity to uncover shit yet, and he was getting antsy. But if he could turn someone who was privy to the info he needed, then he’d get somewhere. Murray Coburn was dirty. Trace knew it. Hell, a lot of people knew it. But they couldn’t or wouldn’t touch the bastard without rock-solid evidence. The legal system had failed. Trace would find the evidence eventually, though, and then he’d mete out his own form of justice. Until then he had to contend with the odd assortment of disreputable punks and bullies working for Murray. He also had to contend with Helene Schumer, better known as Hell—a name that suited her well. She never missed an opportunity to grope him, to boss him, to make his job more trying than necessary. But as Murray’s current p
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO PRISS STRODE INTO THE private elevator as if she had every right, as if her heart weren’t bumping hard against her ribs, as if her nerves weren’t sorely jumbled. Keeping her cool had taken real effort, but good God, of all the scenarios she’d planned for, expected and discounted, being intimately groped by a man like him, a man so unlike the other men in the organization, had never factored in. In the elevator, he held silent, but she saw him twice look at her blouse. She could feel his gaze, damn it, deep inside herself. And she knew what he was looking at. Without the binding, her boobs were far too noticeable. The damned buttons gaped and the material strained. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm. If anything, her jibe only made him intensify his study. He stood there, negligence personified, his hands clasped behind his back, his stance casual and relaxed. “I can see the outline of your nipples.” She nearly strangled on her fury. “Go to hell!” “W
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE AWARE OF PRISCILLA seething beside him, Trace put the car in gear and headed for the exit ramp. “What does your car look like and where did you park?” “Umm…” He sensed her tensing beside him, probably waiting for sunlight to hit the car before she launched herself at him. Such a foolish, but brave, consideration. He shook his head. “I never hit a woman.” He glanced at Priss. “First.” Confusion softened her hostile edge. “What?” “I don’t suggest you try me, Priscilla. I’m seriously pissed enough right now to give you that paddling you so very much deserve.” Understanding that he’d just been letting off steam, her shoulders slumped. She even scoffed. “Paddling? Don’t be an ass.” She dropped her purse onto the floor in front of her seat and put her head back. Almost as an afterthought, she said, “I’d never allow that.” She honestly thought she could stop him if he was inclined toward a little discipline? What a joke. But she was correct to relax. He had no intention of abusi
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR THE SECOND THEY PULLED away from the curb, Trace beat her to the punch. “Not a word, Priss. I mean it.” She opened her mouth, but after giving his frown due attention, she retreated. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He gave her a disbelieving look. She let out a breath. “Yeah. That question sounded preposterous even to me. For God’s sake, I’ve just been forced into the most revealing outfits for your entertainment, and for Murray’s eventual enjoyment, so all kinds of things are wrong.” “It’s fucked three ways to Sunday, I agree.” She scowled, and again started to speak, only to have Trace interrupt her. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he said, “We’re being followed.” She didn’t look. She obviously knew better, which sharpened his curiosity about her. Slowly, barely, she leaned toward the window to use the side-view mirror. “Who do you think it is?