“You don’t need to know the details.” “She does.” It was Anson who spoke, his voice low and steady. Trace’s head snapped in his direction. “You don’t know what my sister needs.” Anson didn’t show any signs of reacting. He simply stared at Trace. “She needs to know the seriousness. Needs to know so she’s careful. And she needs to know because it’s her damned life.” The last sentence had a bit of a growl to the words, an edge that challenged.
