Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
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.