Free Trouble With the Law by Becky McGraw Page B

to sit up.  "Why do I feel like that?"  Trace was damned relieved that at least she was conscious and could speak.  That told him she wasn’t in a coma and most likely she wasn’t going to need a hospital.
    "I'll tell you later.  Just rest for a little while ," Trace said trying to push her shoulder back to the bed.  "I need to talk to Seth."
    "Copeland?" Ronnie said a little louder as she fought against his hold.  "So hot, need to take this shirt off," she groaned and sat up.  Her hands shook, but she managed to unbutton the shirt and slide it off her shoulders.  With a disgusted look, she threw the wet shirt over the side of the bed then flung the covers off of her.  "Is the h-heater on?" Ronnie asked fanning herself.
    "No, honey," Trace replied, separating the sheet from the blanket to pull it over her.  Ronnie didn't seem to care that she was buck naked and Seth was standing there with his mouth hanging open, but Trace cared. 
    "Put your goddamn tongue back in your mouth, Seth, " Trace growled, then turned to block the man's view of Ronnie, "Get the hell out of here."
    "You're no fun man," Seth said with a laugh, but he turned and left.
    "Need to c-c-all C-conner Lucas," Ronnie said through her chattering teeth.
    "Who the hell is that?" Trace demanded turning to look at her.
    "P-partner and f-f-riend.  He'll help us.  We n-n-eed to n-ail these fuckers." 
    Ronnie wanted blood now, and Conner would help her get it.  Next to her, he was the best damned criminal defense attorney in Amarillo.  His family had as many connections as Trace's daddy did.  She and Conner had dated a few times in college, then decided they were too much alike and were better off friends.  In law school, they were the dynamic duo, and squared off in debates just to put on a show for the class.  The man was as close to a best friend as she'd ever had.  She trusted him.
    Her brain was fuzzy and felt like hardened cement in her skull, but Ronnie had heard enough on their trip to wherever they were to know that Trace was in big trouble with the feds.  Because he chose to save her instead of laying low at that ranch. If they didn’t get help and fast, they could both end up dead.  She already felt like she was halfway there.
    Trace had paid for a crime he didn't commit.  Now, he would pay for another one, if she didn't do something.  Conner could help them.
    "You're not calling anybody, Red.  I don't trust anyone not to give us up," he said then snorted.  "I don't even trust you."
    "Well, you b-b-better," she said then shivered again.  It was so fucking hot in the room, Ronnie couldn't figure out how that could be when she was so cold inside.  "I'm the only one who can help you."
    "I've had more than enough of your help , remember?" Trace said with frustration.
    "They f-f-framed you," she said.
    "No shit?" Trace replied with a sarcastic laugh.  "Just lay down and rest, so we can get the hell out of here."
    Trace 's back was stiff as he turned and walked out of the room closing the door behind him harder than necessary.  Ronnie sat there staring at the phone on the night table.  She could call Conner herself, but she had no idea where they were.  Although she had been listening during their ride in the truck, the drugs didn’t allow her to process a lot of what she was hearing.  Even if she called Conner, even if she knew where they were, they would probably be gone by the time Conner could get there.  Trace said they were leaving in the morning.  Where he was taking her, she didn’t know. 
    Ronnie was too tired to think about it right now.  Her brain felt like there were lead weights inside her skull weighing it down.  Her eyelids felt the same way.  Ronnie closed her eyes reaching for sleep, but it wouldn't come, then a wave of nausea hit her.  It was so strong, she felt like her insides had been stretched to the wall and slingshotted back at her like a bullet.  She sucked in a breath and fought the urge to