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)
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.
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.”