Page 107 of Chasing Sparks

Trace waves his hand dismissively. “Never mind that. Look, Lucille has gotten involved with the wrong man.”

“I can tell.”

“And now, through no fault of your own, you’re also involved.”

“Wait a damn minute.” My voice sharpens as I lean forward, pointing to myself. “How the hell am I involved? I don’t even know the asshole she’s dating.”

Then it hits me. Maybe I do know the son-of-a-bitch. Who else has been sending me veiled threats?

I slump against the chair. “Kevin Duncan.”

“Yep.” Trace takes another sip of his whiskey, his foot tapping a steady rhythm against the dingy carpet. “Guess you’ve had a few dealings with him?”

“You could say that.” My jaw tightens as I glance at Lucille. “He left me a note, intimating he was going to reveal the skeletons in my closet. Some such shit. Not sure what he thinks he has on me, though.”

Lucille leans forward, her fingers drumming nervously against the table. “He thinks you’re my baby’s father.”

My entire world tilts on its axis, her voice reaching my ears like it’s traveling down a long, dark hallway. “Excuse me?”

Those are the only words I can manage, and even they feel like a monumental effort.

I scrub my hand over my face, as the cloudy, seemingly random moments—the book, the note, Kevin’s car loitering outside my shop, and his dogged interest in Ori—form a horrifyingly clear picture.

Now I get it, although I’m not sure how Kevin made such a ridiculous leap.

“How the hell did he reach that conclusion?” I finally manage, my voice hollow with disbelief.

“He suspected something was up between us after he found pictures from the convention in Vegas. I denied it, but Kevin was convinced we were sleeping together.”

“Yeah, I get that.” The words bite as they leave my mouth, my head pounding. “So why didn’t you set him straight? Or better yet, ignore his bullshit accusations and leave?”

“It’s not that simple.” Her voice cracks, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Kevin is dangerous. And it’s not just about me—it’s about the women at the club.”

“What club?” I snap. Nothing they’re saying makes any sense. They might as well be speaking Chinese.

Trace clears his throat, his calm demeanor further stoking my irritation. “Kevin owns a high-end sex club. We’ve been monitoring it for months, and we believe it’s a front for trafficking.”

I whirl back to Lucille, incredulous. “I’ll ask you again. Why the hell didn’t you leave?”

“Because she’s been working with me.” Trace’s tone is firm, the syllables clipped.

“Are you Homeland Security, too?” The sarcasm drips from my words.

“Of course not,” Lucille snaps. “I worked reception at Kevin’s club a few nights a week. I always surmised something was happening there, but I chalked it up to paranoia and too many crime dramas. A few months ago, I saw Trace at the club, but I avoided him, as I’ve done for the last decade. The next day, he showed up at the tattoo parlor where I work. Told me who he was and how I could help him.”

“You didn’t know he worked for the government?” My skepticism is palpable. Hell, Lucille and Trace were married—how does someone hide that integral piece of information?

“There was a lot I didn’t know about my husband.” Lucille’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it—a resentment, or unfinished business, maybe both.

“That worked both ways,” Trace mutters, shooting her a side eye. “Anyway, Lucille offered to be our eyes and ears in the club—monitoring which girls came in and, more importantly, which girls vanished without a trace. Meanwhile, I continued to play the part of the interested customer, although I damn near blew my cover when Kevin smacked her in front of everyone. But Lucille stopped me, reminded me of the bigger picture.”

I notice the defiant flicker in Lucille’s eyes and realize she didn’t just stumble into this mess. She chose to stay. Part of mewants to respect her bravery, while the other part wants to wring her neck for putting herself in danger.

"What’s the bigger picture, Trace?" I grind out. "Because all I see is that Lucille is hurt and you’re hiding behind some bullshit bureaucratic red tape."

“If I go in there, guns blazing, without solid evidence, not only will I lose my job, but that piece of crap walks. Lucille’s been integral in collecting intel, and we’re close to taking the bastard down, but her current situation complicates things.” Trace’s gaze shifts to her stomach, and the pieces click into place.

Still doesn’t answermybiggest question.

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