Chapter 34
JASON
The women flew into a frenzy of activity.
Laurel yanked open a drawer and threw a spool of elastic on the counter, followed by scissors and pink thread.
Albina grabbed the shoes, snatched up a large file from her counter, and began to saw it across the bottom of the soles.
They moved without exchanging words, as if they’d done this countless times before.
It was bizarre and fascinating.
While Laurel cut the ribbons out of the worn and frayed pair she had in her suitcase, her castmate finished filing, rose, and set her focus on the door.
“Move,” she barked but didn’t give me a chance to comply. Albina shoved past me, opened the door, and slipped one of the shoes in the opening below the hinge.
What the hell?
She pushed the door closed, bending and pulling at the shoe, crushing it in the doorframe.
I glanced at Laurel incredulously. “She’s destroying your shoes.”
She shook her head and took the mangled shoe when Albina handed it off to her. Laurel readied to sew a ribbon in by the heel, while the other woman repeated the process with the second shoe.
“No,” Laurel said between quick strokes of her needle. “We’re breaking them in.”
They worked as an efficient team, sewing ribbons and elastic, cutting the fabric at the toe and burning the edges with a lighter.
“Time?” she called out.
I glanced at my phone. “Three forty-two.”
“It’s going to have to do.”
In the hallway, I followed the parade of dancers toward the rehearsal studio, ignoring their stunned looks at my badge and gun.
When we reached the studio, I assessed the open room, one wall mirrored.
There was a wooden bar mounted at the back and more freestanding ones that sat in the corner.
The company milled about, some stretching on the floor and others standing and chatting.
I nodded to Laurel that it was safe to come in, and several of the dancers flew at her, pulling her into hugs.
Their questions were fast and furious, and she did a good job of being vague, which we’d discussed on the drive down. I didn’t want to alarm her coworkers any more than they already were. It was clear they didn’t like the police presence at the theater.
Watching her castmates embrace her with genuine affection was . . . disorienting.
It wasn’t surprising she was well liked, but seeing it made me feel terrible because all of this would be gone tomorrow.
Frey had taken this from her.
A paper-thin bald man materialized at the front, and the dancers scurried to stand in rows. The director wasn’t happy I was here, and he didn’t hold back the side-eye or censor the disdain from his face.
“As soon as warm-ups are complete, I need everyone in places for the final movement. We’ll go over the choreo change that Laurel wasn’t here for.”
He said it like she’d taken an unapproved vacation, and I clenched my jaw.
She hadn’t blown off her obligations. She’d been busy helping the marshals search for a killer, during which she’d been shot at, assaulted, and kidnapped.
I knew just how badly she would have preferred to have been at rehearsals instead, and it pissed me off once again that she’d had to make this sacrifice.
I listened to the chatter in my monitor about checks and personnel while the dancers stretched, and when the comments in my ear got too friendly, Caroline came on and told everyone to stay off the comm unless they had something fucking useful to say.
She’d have big shoes to fill if she was going to replace Bill, but I was beginning to believe she could do it.
I’d never felt more out of place in my whole goddamn life while watching the rehearsal.
“Softer landings, children,” the director yelled. “You are not a herd of elephants. Choose to stop dancing like one.”
The dance they practiced required one of the male dancers in the company to put his hands all over Laurel in a series of lifts.
It didn’t bother me until the director stopped the routine and the dancer left his hands on her waist. Comfortable.
Some of the other couples did the same, and she acted like she didn’t notice or care.
I wasn’t the possessive type, and while this was harmless, every second the guy stood with his hands on her brought me closer to making a passive-aggressive comment.
Imagine how thrilled she’d be about that.
“Late, Beast,” the director said. “That happens on six now. You’d know that if you’d been here.”
Well, fuck him.
I didn’t want to be near the man now. It was dangerous for us both, but more so for the pale, weak-looking director who continued to berate her throughout practice. Yet at one point while they were stopped, her focus found me and she smiled. Like she was happy, regardless of what the director said.
The pain in my chest was tight and made it hard to breathe.
“Dismissed,” the asshole director finally said.
I straightened from the wall I’d been leaning against and watched her hug several of the dancers fiercely. A few of them seemed confused.
They didn’t know she was saying goodbye.
She pulled off her shoes and padded over to me. Whatever expression I wore, it made her worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She fell in step beside me back to her dressing room, pulling the pins and rubber band out of her hair, shaking the blonde waves free. When we got into her room, the Russian dancer was gone, and I was grateful to have another moment alone with her.
Her vibrant blue eyes were full of questions. “You seemed upset out there.”
“I didn’t care for the way he talked to you.”
Her lips curled up into a faint smile. “That? That’s nothing. When he starts throwing shoes, that’s when I take it personally.”
My jaw tightened once again, but her soft hand was there, turning my head down. Pulling me to her kiss. It was slow and passionate and about the connection strengthening between us. I wanted to enjoy each moment, but we were already on borrowed time.
The kiss ended just seconds before an older woman entered, without knocking, mumbling Polish and carrying a massive, white wreath. Wait. Not a wreath.
A tutu.
The woman passed it, along with a glittering costume on a hanger, to Laurel. She continued mumbling Polish to no one in particular as she went, shutting the door behind her.
“She’s the head of the costuming department. Do you mind turning around again?” Laurel said softly. “There’s nothing less sexy than putting on tights.”
It was unnecessary, but I complied. She hadn’t figured out yet that everything she did was sexy. Even the way she breathed was sexy to me.
I ran a hand through my hair then rested it on my hip, staring at the blank wall before me, listening to her move around.
“I take it there hasn’t been any sign of Frey?”
“No,” I said.
“I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing anymore.”
“You not being in danger is a good thing.”
I knew what she meant, though, that this route would split us up.
Shit, she deserved so much more than this. I would give everything to pretend none of it had happened and neither of us would have to give up our careers. That we’d met in some normal situation, dated, and then fell in love.
To be sure it was her feelings for me that bonded us together and not her fear or trauma.
“If it comes to it, and I can’t stay here, will you do me a favor?” The costume hanger rattled as she dressed. “Will you look for my sister and make sure she’s okay?”
“Of course.” I’d leave absolutely no stone unturned in my hunt for Frey, but even if her sister’s disappearance weren’t related, I’d still follow through.
“Thanks. I’d . . . like to talk to her again.”
We lapsed into silence.
Beyond the door, other dancers shuffled past, laughing and teasing each other. Over the comm, I heard the announcement that the front doors were opening in five minutes and the security team needed to get into positions.
“Okay, I’m dressed.”
She wore a white costume that plunged deep in the front. Clear gems dotted throughout the fabric and tutu, and when they caught the light, it cast multi-colored reflections around the room.
The words tumbled from me without warning. “God, you’re beautiful.”
My compliment caught her by surprise, and color flashed across her cheeks. “Thank you.”
Her bashfulness didn’t last long because she sensed the clock looming over our heads. She took a seat at the lighted mirror and began to gather her hair up in her hands, but the door abruptly swung open.
Jesus, did no one knock?
Albina appeared, carrying a glass vase stuffed with a shit-ton of red roses. “These are heavy,” she announced, “and they are for you.”
She plunked them down on Laurel’s table where they took up most of the space, and Laurel’s concerned gaze found mine through the mirror. Her expression screamed this wasn’t normal.
That this had to be from him.
Every muscle in me tensed, and I reached down to grab the vase, hurrying to get it as far away from her as I—
“From someone named Shawn,” Albina added casually.
I froze, and Laurel let out a sigh of relief.
My brother’s stupid, well-meaning gesture had nearly given us a heart attack.
“How could you not tell me you had a boyfriend?” Albina was oblivious to the tension that lingered. “A hot, German one?”
For a moment Laurel’s face skewed as if she didn’t know how to answer it.
“My boyfriend’s not German.” She inhaled deeply and her voice went uneven. “That was his brother.”