Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [38]
That left her eyes rounded. “How many of these cars are yours?”
“Five.” They ranged from disreputable to nondescript to ultimately expensive and classy. Whatever was called for, the vehicle would match.
When no longer in this area, they’d be traded in for different cars, stored in a different garage rented in the appropriate place.
Trace patted her thigh in a dispassionate way that didn’t even come close to representing how he felt. “Get Liger and I’ll get his stuff and our food.”
“So there is food for me?” she quipped. “Because, you know, you did promise me breakfast.”
“Did I?” He hauled out the big cat’s belongings, two water bottles and the bag of breakfast.
“Yeah, and I’m famished.” Arms overflowing with the giant kitty, Priss followed him to the passenger door of the truck. She eyed the rusty, mismatched exterior, the loose residue of dirt in the truck bed, the redneck bumper stickers in various stages of wear. “Slumming it?”
“Being cautious.” He opened the door and stored Liger’s stuff behind the bench seat. “Hop in and buckle up.”
“The seat belts work?”
She sounded dubious. “Yeah, smart-ass. Safety first, you know.” He took the cat from her, which sent Liger into a deep, rumbling purr. That the cat liked him was almost a compliment.
After Priss had secured herself, Trace gave Liger a few strokes along his furry back, then handed him into Priss. “He’ll ride in your lap?”
“I’m not about to stuff him into a carrier, if that’s what you’re asking. He’d complain the entire way.”
The carrier would have been more convenient for his plans, but he could improvise.
Trace went around to his own side of the truck. “Let’s get the food together before we get on the road.”
He made sure to give her the biscuit first. He really did want to ensure that she ate, since it was going to be a long day for her and she wouldn’t get another chance until they got to their destination.
“So do I need a code to get into the garage?”
He shared a password with her. “Punch it in, then press Enter and the gate will lift. On your way out, it opens automatically at your approach.”
What Priss didn’t know was that the gate had a two-step function. A secondary, numerical password cleared the login. If anyone accessed the garage without the numbers, an alert was sent out, notifying him of the breech.
Whether she wanted him to or not, Trace would be aware of Priss’s use of the hidden garage.
And he would know if she shared the password with anyone else.
“You won’t forget?”
“No.” Priss appeared unconcerned with the simple configuration of letters. “Should be easy enough to remember. So, care to tell me why all these precautions are necessary?”
“That you don’t already know the answer to that just shows how naive you are.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Only after Priss had taken two big bites of her biscuit sandwich did Trace pick up her water bottle, open it and hand it to her. “Here you go.”
Distaste curled her lip as she accepted the water. “This is all we’ve got?”
“Yup. Drink up. You need to stay hydrated.” And he needed to get her to Dare’s secure home without risking his friend’s identity or location.
As if water were somehow objectionable, she wrinkled her nose as she dutifully drank.
Though Trace watched her with regret and attentiveness, she didn’t appear to notice. In no time she’d finished off half the bottle—more than enough.
Small as she was, it shouldn’t take long now.
Priss glanced his way. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“In a minute.” Settling his shoulders back against the door, Trace kept his gaze on her, unwilling to break that last small connection. “You go ahead.”
She gave him a funny look, but then, even to his own ears he sounded especially gentle, and remorseful.
“Suit yourself.” Priss finished off her sandwich, and then she finished off the water. After gathering up her wrapper and the empty bottle, she let the cat down onto the floor of the truck, onto a blanket she’d placed there. As she straightened again, she yawned and stretched.
“Comfortable?” Waiting for what would happen