Mission: Out of Control (14 page)

“I'm not her savior.”

“Really? You have her back, you protect her, you guide her in the right places, you rescue her. Just like God does for you. You're not her heavenly savior, but you are the one God appointed to watch over her right now, on earth, for this time.”

“And I would do anything to keep her safe.”

“Even though she's driven you crazy and pushed you away and lied to you and made a few huge mistakes.”

Yes. He wanted to throttle her, too. Or just take her in his arms, hold her tight so the world couldn't hurt her.

“Because you love her.”

His head came up and he met Chet's dark gaze. “I don't—”

Chet held up his hand. “Don't even try. I see the way you look at her, the way she fascinates you. She smiles at you and suddenly you're grinning, too. And when this is all over, believe me, we're going to have a conversation about what you plan to do about that. But you know, that's exactly what God does when you let Him be your bodyguard. He
wants
to rescue us. Close protection—with God it takes on a whole new meaning.”

Brody's cell phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out. “Ronie's ready to go.”

“Why do you think God gave you this assignment? For Ronie's good? Probably. For yours? Definitely. Don't waste it, Wick. Let God watch your back while you watch Ronie's.”

Brody tightened his hold on his cell phone as Artyom's voice came over the radio.

“Hey, guys, we just got lucky. I was able to get into Damu's server and set up an alert if he sent another email to our guy. One just came through—he's meeting him now, at the Diamond Exchange, just as you predicted.”

Brody stood up. “I can't wait to get my hands on this guy.”

“Oh, no, dude. You're on the job.” Chet closed his laptop and picked up the radio. “You stay put and let us handle this.”

“No way. He nearly killed her. I'm going.”

Chet came around the table. “That's precisely why you're staying here. Trust your team, Wick. We'll get him.”

“I
sn't this the most beautiful venue for a concert?” The afternoon sun came through the stained-glass windows above the stage, spotlighting the red carpet below with a messy splotch of colors. Ronie stood in the middle of it, in red and gold light, letting her messenger bag fall to the ground, lifting her arms. “I fell in love with it three years ago, and I don't care that it holds only a limited number—I won't play any other place but the Paradiso. Can you imagine anything more perfect than playing in an old church?”

“It's a little scary from the outside. Dark and melodramatic. And it smells old. Musty, even.”

“It's all about presentation, Brody. You should know that by now.” She winked at him.

Okay, she'd been acting strange ever since he'd picked her up at her suite.

She hopped up on the stage. “We had to modify the act to fit the venue, but you'll be glad to know we were able to rig up pulleys for the swing song.”

“Thrilled beyond words.” He followed her onstage and turned out to look at the dance floor. “Are you sure this is the place I approved? Because I remember
thinking the crowd could definitely get too close to you here.”

She made a face. “Actually, you did turn it down, but Tommy and I chatted and well, okay, at the time, it felt like you were overreacting. Sorry.”

Sorry. Sorry was some killer getting on one of those balconies with a gun. “No stage-diving, okay?”

She made another face, picked up her bag and disappeared down the back stairs of the stage.

“Hey, not so fast.” He caught up with her, following her down the hall to her dressing room. Her costumes hung on a rack in the hallway.

“The rooms are so quaint, I have to leave the costumes out here.”

“
Small
is the word you're looking for.” He stopped her before she went in and scanned the room. A mirror, a dressing table already prestocked with her makeup and wigs, as well as a sofa and a dressing screen. “Classy.”

“It has character.” She plunked her bag onto the table. “Okay, what gives? You've been unusually crabby since we left the hotel.”

“No, I haven't.” He sat on the sofa, glancing at his watch. Over an hour and not a word.

She shook her head, started unloading her bag, and glanced up at him in the mirror. “Go find a stalker or something.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and strode out to the hallway.

Inside her room, she hummed. He heard Chet's words in his head.
You love her…I see the way you look at her, the way she fascinates you. She smiles at you and suddenly you're grinning, too.

So? Maybe he enjoyed her friendship. She did make him laugh.

And, okay, he would miss her. More than a little. Maybe he'd try to make one of her concerts next time she came to Europe.

He needed a drink of water. Probably she did, too. He poked his head into the dressing room.

She'd applied her fake eyelashes, and for a moment, her eyes seemed so big, so… Man, he needed that drink of water. “Don't open this door until I come back.”

“Yes, Oh Protective One.” She smirked at him.

He shut the door. On his way to the bar in the back of the church, he radioed in for a status update. No one answered.

He scored some bottled water and returned to the dressing room. He knocked on the door.

“Is that the special code?”

“Funny.” But the door opened.

He stood there, his throat parched. “Wow.”

“You like it? We're mixing things up for this show.”

She wore an indigo-blue sequined dress with a high neck and a cutout at the throat. It slid over her like water. Long gloves added drama that put him right back in the basement tavern, singing the blues. To his surprise, she hadn't added a wig; just her beautiful short brown hair that on her looked downright…

“Close your mouth, Brody. It's just for the opening number.”

Right. He opened the water bottle and took a drink. “Uh…” He choked, coughed. “Sorry, I…” Okay. Now he wanted to just shut the door and start over.

“Okay there, pal?”

“Yes, fine. Are there any more changes I should know about?”

“Maybe. I have a new song at the end, instead of the Cha Cha number.” She winked at him.

“Listen, I don't know if I can take any more surprises on this trip.”

She stepped back, her smile gone. “I'm sorry.”

He looked at his watch again. Nearly two hours.

“Brody, what is going on?” She grabbed his lapel, dragged him into the room, pushed the door shut. “You are freaking me out.”

He shook his head and ran his hand down his face. When he looked up, she still stood there, hands on her hips.

“I'm not moving until you tell me.”

Fine. “Chet and the guys are tracking Damu. He's supposed to be meeting with the smuggler right now. But I haven't heard anything.”

“You went after the smuggler and you didn't tell me?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Well, let's go!” And she actually hiked up that pretty dress, as if she might take off in a run.

“You're not going anywhere.”

“Listen, I might be able to identify him, did you think of that? You even said that my concert dates had some connection to these handoffs. What if it's someone I know? I should be there.”

He actually laughed. She pursed her lips in fury. He schooled his voice. “You know, Ronie, you can't be in charge of everything. You might want to let someone else do something. Like their, I don't know, job?”

He knew her well enough to keep his hand ready for a block.

But instead of anger welling in those beautiful eyes, she actually took a breath and nodded.

“You're right.”

He was…
right?
“What?”

“You're right. I can't be in charge of everything. I have to let you do your job. Let you protect me.”

“You do?”

She smiled, and then reached out and patted his chest. “Yes. I do. You have everything under control.”

No, really, he didn't. He caught her hand before she could feel the thundering of his heart.

“Who are you?”

She laughed, and as usual, it grabbed his breath right out of his chest, clearing his thoughts of everything but her.

“It's still me. It's just the me who is trying to forgive herself and move on. Stop trying so hard to do everything. I'm trying to just let the real Ronie out, and be okay with that.”

He never thought it was possible to really want to jump up and sing, but in his head he saw himself leaping to his feet, pulling her into his arms and kissing her right behind her ear, where her neck slid into that collar.

He blinked at her. He wanted to do
what?
“Oh. Uh.”

“Are you okay, Brody? You look ill.”

“I'm fine. I'm…” But the feeling wouldn't die. “I'm going to…check on…something.” He stood, and she stepped away.

“Brody, come in.” Chet's voice came through his earpiece.

He met her eyes. “I'm listening.”

“He was a no-show. Damu's back at his hotel. We're staying on him, but just so you know, he's still out there. Look alive.”

“Confirmed. Keep me updated.”

“What is it?” She touched his arm, and he pulled away as if her hand might be a burning coal.

“Sorry. I just…” What? He stared at her, overpowered with the urge to sweep her into his arms and run.

Now she looked hurt. “Did I say something? What's the matter?”

Where did he start? “Yes, something's the matter. We need to cancel the concert.”

“What?” She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

“Whoever tried to kill you is still out there. My team didn't get him. And we still have no idea who we are looking for. I can't protect you when I have no idea who—or what—I'm protecting you from.”

“Shh.” She stepped up to him and put a finger to his lips. “Of course you can.”

What if he couldn't? What if she got killed on his watch? He clenched his teeth against the truth but she must have seen it in his eyes because she took his face in her hands. “It's going to be okay. I trust you, Brody.”

And then, sweetly, gently, she kissed him. He didn't even know how to respond, just let the taste of her, the smell of her, fill him, calm him.

Protect them both.

 

Ronie could hear the crowd in this venue better than any other. She stared into the mirror, liking the smoky look that went with this dress. Just wait until Brody heard her newest number. Just her and the mike.

She'd made him smile once before. She could probably do it again.

He hadn't exactly kissed her back in the dressing room. He must have been afraid, right? During her sound check he'd prowled the stage, behind her, before her, like he was caged inside his own world. She'd tried talking to him and he'd nearly bitten her head off.

As if…

No. Suddenly, she saw herself throwing herself into his arms. And him politely pushing her away. Not quite as bad as the moment in Prague, as if she might be diseased, but still…

The truth hit her like a slap. She'd trapped the poor man and, always the gentleman, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. He didn't love her—he was her bodyguard, for crying out loud. Had she been living in her own dream world? Vonya had infected her head.

What a fool she'd become.

She stood and fitted the white wig on her head, adding some indigo-blue glitter around her eyes.

Yes. Better. She'd still sing the blues, but she could keep it from getting personal.

Her eyes filled.

No. She didn't have time to grieve, to cry over her failures.

But what was wrong with her that even after she'd shown him the true Ronie, even after she'd found this pretty dress, even after she'd declared her trust for him, that still he didn't like her?

It wasn't enough to be Ronie. Plain old, unremarkable, insufficient Ronie.

But God demonstrated His own love for us in this…while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

She let that verse, the one she read over and over, thrum inside. Like a heartbeat. So maybe, if God liked her, she didn't need Brody to like her, right?

At least, in theory. Because although Brody might lay down his life for her—and oh, please God, don't let it come to that—God already had. He'd already proven it all.

For plain old, unremarkable, insufficient Ronie.

Yes. God liked her. Imagine that.

“Are you okay?” Leah poked her head into the dressing room. “You have about five minutes.”

Ronie blinked her eyes and widened them, hoping to dry the tears fast. Leah slipped in, shutting the door behind her. “What's the matter?”

She fanned her eyes. “I'm just so stupid. I practically threw myself at Brody.”

Leah didn't look horrified in the least. “About time.”

“He doesn't want me. I told you—he doesn't even like me.”

Leah shook her head. “He likes you. He just can't show it. Yet. Get though this tour and—”

“And he's gone. He'll put me on a plane tomorrow, and that's it, Leah. He'll walk out of my life. Probably saying good riddance.”

“You should have seen him in Prague, when he discovered you were missing. He nearly went out of his mind. He ordered us all to stay at the theater until he came back for us. I think we would have been there all night had Tommy not gone to find Luke and Artyom. Thankfully, they came back to give us the all clear. But by that time, Lyle had fallen asleep on the floor.”

Ronie met her eyes in the mirror. “But I saw you come
back right after the show when I was in the square. I saw your light on.”

Leah shook her head. “No, we were at the concert hall for a good three hours after the show. Must have been a different room.”

“I could have sworn it was your window. Third floor, facing the square?”

“We were on the second floor. Tommy was above us.”

“Tommy had that room?” She remembered the light, the figure moving in the window. The light had been on for only a moment or two.

Outside, the band had started to warm up. She took a breath and opened the door. Brody stood in front of her, no expression on his face. He met her eyes a moment before his gaze slid away.

Oh, she hated how she'd dreamed up a future with him. Maybe it hadn't fully crystallized in her mind, but it included walks along the Charles Bridge, and singing to him in his favorite little blues place, and possibly even becoming friends with Gracie and Mae.

Yes, she'd nurtured that impossible daydream a little too long into the night.

She turned, hooking arms with Leah. She didn't need him to love her or even like her. He was just doing his job. Keeping her alive.

Him and his team. Too bad they hadn't caught the smuggler…

“Where was Tommy today?”

“I don't know. He's been working with the sound guys for the past hour or two, though. He forgets we have a stage manager.”

Of course he'd been here. Because he wasn't a smuggler.

She stopped at the entrance to the steps. Brody nodded, then moved away to survey the crowd one last time before she took the stage.

One last time. She watched him go, a fortress heading into the black wings.

The crowd had already become deafening.

“Tommy was probably extra-worried,” Leah was saying, “because I told him about Brody's concern that someone in our crew might be—”

Ronie whirled to face her. “Leah, you didn't. He knows that Brody is watching everyone?”

“Yeah. He said that Brody was way too suspicious. I agree, I mean, c'mon—”

“Oh, no.” Tommy D. He knew her schedule best. In fact, he had full access to her computer and her cell phone so he could transfer files and send reminders if he needed to.