Jack cleared his throat and my gut went cold as I realized he was standing right there, watching as I’d let the mask crumble. I rubbed my hands over my face, mumbling about the heat. He didn’t say a word and when I looked up, met his gaze, his expression didn’t change.
As I swallowed, Jack’s gaze moved away to track a middle-aged man hurrying for the doors. The man hailed friends standing outside, waving them in from their cigarette break, and Jack relaxed, nodding slightly. I realized that’s what he’d been doing, not watching me, but looking for the killer. Too preoccupied to notice me. Better things on his mind. More important things.
The buzzer sounded.
“We have to go,” I said, searching for a trash can. “Get out of here before the show starts. He’s done his job. Now he’ll run-”
“No, he won’t.”
“But-”
“Too risky. He’ll be in there.”
“Wha-?”
Jack waved at the line of patrons filing into the opera. I looked around, realizing that nothing had changed, no one was panicking, screaming about a murdered man in the washroom.
“They aren’t telling anyone what happened, are they? Everyone who was there thinks it was an accident. And if there’s no mass exodus-” I swallowed, then swung my gaze to the auditorium doors. “He’ll have to go inside. Watch the show like everyone else.”
Jack nodded, took my glass with one hand, my elbow with the other, and led me over to join the line.
I don’t know how I made it to my seat. My heart started racing the moment I stepped through those doors-walked into the same auditorium where my target now sat. The thought of sitting down and doing nothing about it was…indescribable.
Jack moved closer, his knee pressing against mine, hand going to my thigh as he leaned over to say something. I could feel the heat of him, smell the cigarettes on his breath. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, the noise around us too loud, the blood pounding in my ears not helping. I watched his lips move, stared at them, mesmerized by the sensual curve.
I sat there, watching him, smelling him, feeling his hand on my leg, until that was all I could sense. Something built inside me, an ache, sharp, urgent. A primal voice whispered that this would do, that he’d do-a suitable substitute, a way to slake my frustration, reach out and touch him-
I realized what I was thinking. Felt it like a slap that jolted me out of my thoughts, face reddening, cheeks heating. I looked away. Jack’s fingers only pressed into my thigh, getting my attention.
I didn’t look, but heard him now, telling me to watch for the killer, study the audience before the lights went down. It took a moment for my thoughts to unsnarl and to realize what his words meant. I glanced around, searching for men in the right age group…which described 90 percent of the male patrons. I tried narrowing it down to those sitting alone, but there was no way of knowing because hardly anyone “sat alone”-with no one on either side of him. The killer would be smarter than that anyway. If he’d somehow ended up with an empty seat on either side, he’d just move over, joining another party. As Quinn had said, this wasn’t a sold-out show. There was at least one empty seat in every row.
A hopeless task. But a task nonetheless. Busywork. Keeping my mind occupied, that surging frustration at bay. Exactly what I needed. To Jack, it was just being efficient. Making the best use of our time.
At intermission, I wanted to find out what the Feds were doing, if they even knew this was a hit yet, but Jack was having none of it, and I had to admit he was right. We couldn’t be caught hanging out too close to the FBI agent plants, hoping to overhear their conversations.
“Come on,” Jack said, tapping the cigarettes in his pocket and jerking his chin toward the mass of patrons streaming outside. “Gotta talk to Felix.”
We walked along the sidewalk, getting as much distance from the other smokers as possible without looking suspicious.
“How will they find-?” I began.
“Already did. Don’t look. Just keep walking. I’ll stop. Next to an alley exit. Turn toward the street.”
“With my back to them in the alley. Got it.”
When I was turning, I caught a blur of a face. Quinn, judging by the height. His dark clothing blended with the shadows.
Jack positioned us so we were standing side by side, partly turned toward one another, our backs to the alley as we watched the traffic.
Jack smoked while I told Quinn and Felix what had happened. To anyone driving by or watching from the opera house, I’d seem to be speaking to Jack. When I finished, Quinn let out an oath.
“So he did manage it,” Felix murmured. “We thought as much when we noticed the agents stream into the street after the show began.”
“So they’re out here?” I said, scanning the road. “They think he left.”
Jack passed me the cigarette. As I took it, I caught a glimpse of Quinn. He’d moved to the edge of the alley, still in shadow, but behind Jack now. He frowned as he watched me raise the cigarette to my lips.
“Yes, it’s a nasty habit,” I murmured. “And one I’m supposed to have quit but, sadly, I’m not above temptation.”
I smiled as I spoke, but his expression didn’t change. He watched me take a drag, then pass it back to Jack.
“Can’t spring for a fresh smoke for Dee, Jack?” he said.
Jack grunted, and my cheeks heated as I realized what Quinn had been gawking at. Not the cigarette, but the sharing. I’d never really thought much about it, and I knew Jack was only being considerate. He knew that as an ex-smoker, I’d refuse a full one, but could reason that a few puffs didn’t count, like a dieter taking bites from someone else’s dessert. To an outsider, though, the shared cigarette might seem rather…intimate.
“So where are they?” I asked, looking around.
“Most went back inside,” Quinn said. “But a few are still patrolling the perimeter, stopping people who look like they might be leaving.”
As I turned left, my heart skipped a beat. “Someone like that?”
Jack followed my gaze to see silver-haired man cutting briskly through the smoking crowd. He checked his watch, as if hurrying off to do something before the intermission ended.
“Son of a bitch,” Quinn said. “What do you want to bet…?”
“I don’t,” Jack said. “Watch, Dee. Don’t react.”
“I know.”
He held out the cigarette again, and this time, I’ll admit, thinking of Quinn’s reaction, I hesitated before taking it. But I did take it, if only for the nicotine hit.
The man crossed the road, walked past us on the other side and ducked into an alley.
“Felix?” Jack said under his breath.
“I know, Jack, but we can’t. If Quinn and I cross that road, we’re going to be seen. We can try looping around-”
“Do that.” Jack retrieved the cigarette and stubbed it out on the wall, then dropped it into his pocket and took my arm. “Let’s go.”
We walked about fifty feet farther down the road, bringing us past the alley. Jack was curbside, so he looked down it.
“Still there,” he said. “Walking.”
We crossed, jogging between cars, then backtracked.
Jack’s arm tightened around my waist, getting my attention. “Your turn.”
I looked down the alley. It was dark, but I could see the silver-haired man had passed through into a well-lit parking lot on the other side. I swallowed the urge to tear after him and told Jack. He only nodded, still moving.
“Find another way,” he murmured. “Lane up here.”
“And, judging by that parking sign, it leads right where we want. Can-” I stopped and rephrased. “Should we turn down it?”
Jack hesitated, then nodded. As I passed the lane, I started veering that way, my gaze fixed on the entrance, a tunnel that would lead me to-