Chapter 33
LAUREL
This was your idea, I reminded myself while packing my suitcase.
Even though I wanted Frey brought to justice, the idea of seeing him again was terrifying.
I wasn’t putting only myself in danger, either.
Jason made it clear he wouldn’t leave my side until Frey was in custody or I was on Shawn’s plane.
Frey might realize I was more trouble than I was worth and send someone to kill me. That thought was very real, too.
Shawn offered to fly us in, but Jason nixed that idea. It wasn’t any faster, and we’d have to make arrangements for a car at the airport, which might tip off the mole in the marshal’s office where we were before we were ready.
He wanted to control the situation as much as possible.
It had warmed enough that the ice had melted from the driveway, allowing us to pull the car up to the house. While he was outside loading the trunk, I knocked on Shawn’s office door.
He said something in German. I hoped it meant it was okay to come in, but his rich eyes seemed surprised when they found me.
“Sorry, I thought you were Jason. Can I help you?”
“I just wanted to say goodbye, and to thank you for letting us stay here.”
“It’s been a pleasure, but there’s no need to say goodbye. We’ll see each other again, Laurel."
I blinked at the sound of my name in his voice. “How did you know?”
“I went on the theater’s website to order tickets.”
Where my name and picture were still under the “CAST MEMBERS” tab. “You’re coming to the show?”
“Do you mind?”
“No, but does Jason know?” I couldn’t imagine he’d want his brother anywhere near the theater.
“I’d prefer if he didn’t know until you’ve crossed state lines.” He gave me a look that said this was not a request. “If I don’t see you before the show, good luck.”
Then it was time to go, and Jason’s goodbye to Shawn was awkward, a mumbled thank you, followed by a handshake. When the car started down the sloping driveway, my nerves chewed at me.
Every mile we drove brought us closer to what could be my death. Or Jason’s. Or both.
“You can still change your mind,” he said, after we’d ridden in silence for a while.
“I’m not going to.”
This would be my farewell performance. If what he’d said was true, that I could start over in Germany, I’d never achieve this status again.
There were eight, maybe nine good years left in my body, assuming no injuries, and it wasn’t enough time to climb back up again.
My anger over the unfairness shoved the nerves to the side.
“What happens if he doesn’t show?” The thought stormed into my brain like a freight train. “Oh, God. What if it takes you years to catch him?”
“It won’t.”
He sounded so sure, but I wasn’t na?ve. “How can you know that?”
“I’m good at what I do,” he said simply. “Frey’s going to know this is a trap. Even if he’s wise enough to stay away, he’ll make a mistake somewhere else, if he hasn’t already. I will get him, L. You can fucking count on it.”
I was desperate to believe him because the alternative was terrifying. The idea of climbing onto the plane without him sounded like agony.
I’d hung up with the company director thirty seconds before the white and blue welcome sign came into view.
“He’s not happy about it,” I said of the director, “but he’ll let me perform tonight. I think the fact that Caroline was standing in his office persuaded him.” I watched the sign fly past. “Shawn bought a ticket to tonight’s show.”
He scowled. “You couldn’t have told me when we were back at the house so I could try to talk him out of it?”
“He asked me not to. Would you have been able to?”
“I don’t know, but probably not.” He admitted it like it was painful. “He always gets whatever he wants.”
Was that true? Shawn didn’t seem like the man who had it all, staying alone in the big, generic house. The way his eyes lit up yesterday when I’d come into the living room and discovered him drinking by himself made it seem like he was lonely.
“Will he be in danger?” Would everyone in the theater be in danger?
“By the time we get there, every inch of that theater will have been searched, and each audience member will have to go through tight security.”
His non-answer made me feel marginally better.
“Walk me through the timeline for tonight,” he said.
I detailed the call time, warm-ups, and dress runs, and occasionally he’d interrupt with a question about exits or who would be present staff-wise.
Each question was a reminder of the situation.
My conflicted emotions grew when we hit traffic just outside of the Loop.
My excitement to perform mixed with my anxiety over what might happen.
He pulled into a garage several blocks away from the theater, parked, and reached behind the seat to retrieve our coats—but stopped abruptly.
Then he descended upon me with a kiss that was reckless and unapologetic. Even when it was over, he gripped me tightly.
“From this point on,” his face was only inches from mine, “you don’t leave my sight. I am the first one to walk into a room whenever we’re moving.”
I swallowed hard.
“You tell me if there’s someone you don’t recognize. Anything that seems unusual or out of place, I need to know about immediately. It doesn’t matter how insignificant it might be.”
“Okay.” Seeing the deliberate, professional version of him made cold creep inside me. His hand cupped my face, and he brushed his thumb over my lips before giving me a final kiss.
“We’re going to be fine.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was me. “Don’t get out of the car. I’ll unload the trunk and come around.”
We hurried into the garage elevator, him pulling my suitcase along, and when the doors opened at the ground floor, his urgent gaze scanned our surroundings.
He didn’t say anything. All he gave was a quick nod.
Then we were off, rushing to the sidewalk and down the three blocks to the rear entrance of the theater.
He moved so quickly it made staying beside him a struggle.
The short, older-looking marshal stationed inside the back door nodded to Jason, recognizing him instantly.
“I’ll let Caroline know you’re here,” the man said.
There was a black duffel bag on the floor that he pushed forward with a foot, indicating it was for us. Jason grabbed the straps and looked at the dark hallway before us. “Which way?”
I pointed to the left and directed him toward my dressing room. Occasionally, we’d pass an open door of one of the other dancers’ rooms, and I’d get treated to a surprised expression.
How much did they know about my situation? I hadn’t been at tech class this morning, and company policy stated I was automatically suspended from performance. Yet here I was. And I was being escorted by someone they’d never seen before.
I knocked on my shared dressing room door.
“Come in,” Albina called.
“I’m not alone,” I said, not wanting her to be half-dressed. It hadn’t taken me long to learn she wasn’t shy about her body.
“It is fine,” she answered.
He pushed the door open, stepped through, and moments later, waved me in.
“Who is this?” Albina’s curious gaze went from him to me as she shoved bobby pins in her mouth. She was already dressed in her black rehearsal clothes.
“He’s my . . .” My mind faltered. Bodyguard? Boyfriend? The man who took a bullet for me? “Marshal.”
I glanced at him, finding his face guarded. Even his posture was stiff. Professional. All-business.
She twisted her hair into a bun and mumbled it with a mouthful of pins. “This is his name?”
“No,” he said. “I’m a cop.”
Her hands froze, and concern ran through her expression. “You are in trouble?”
“No. And yes.” I took the suitcase from him and pulled it over to my makeup table. “A lot of stuff happened after the shooting, and Jason’s been . . . helping me.”
I could have said he was doing his job, but it was so much more than that, and I wanted to make sure he knew. I couldn’t have survived the last week without him.
“She’s not really allowed to discuss it,” he said.
While I dug out my rehearsal clothes, he dropped the duffel bag to the floor, unzipped it, and pulled out a bulletproof vest with a white U.S. MARSHAL patch spread across the back. He’d been wearing his badge and gun on his hip, but he unclipped both and set them aside so he could put on his vest.
Albina and I paused, watching him, and the atmosphere in the room turned serious.
Once he’d finished adjusting the straps, his focus went to the wallet that held his badge. He undid one side so he could pull out the beaded chain enclosed inside, then slung it over his head so the badge hung mid-chest. The gun holster was snapped back into place at his waist.
Despite everything going on, the woman in me, the one who evolution had programmed to respond to a protector, fell a little more in love with him. Bad boys were always appealing, but this bad boy with a badge?
He filled me with scorching desire.
“You are performing tonight?” Albina prompted, probably because I needed to get changed.
My hands went to the snap of my jeans, but I hesitated. “Are you going to step out while I change?”
I wouldn’t have asked him this if we’d been alone. He’d seen plenty of my body, but I’d do my best to pretend our relationship was strictly professional, and I could feel Albina’s curious gaze on us.
“No.” His face was blank, but he turned away to face the wall.
As I hurried into my leotard, he retrieved something else from the duffle bag. It was an earpiece, and once he had it in place, he tested the communication system and seemed satisfied with the results.
I yanked at the waistband of my leggings, pulling them into place, and dropped down into a deep plié to ensure they wouldn’t hinder movement. “Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”
He turned and found my gaze through the mirror while I twisted my hair up into a knot. I grabbed clips and scooped up the loose tendrils at the nape of my neck, securing them before reaching for my—
“Shit,” I gasped.
Alarm pulled his shoulders back. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” I tore the lid off the box of my backup pair of pointe shoes. “Albina, help.”
She took one look and what was sure to be Russian curse words burst from her. My pointe shoes—the only pair I had for tonight—were brand new.