Fallen Star (19 page)

“Say I get the job. What happens if Nazerel
strolls through the door?”

“You treat him like any other customer,”
Odintar said. “The only way you would know he’s after you is if
you’d had contact with us.”

“And the whole point of the double was to
keep him from realizing where you’ve been,” Elias reminded.

“We’re not sending you in alone,” Odintar
assured. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

So here she sat, waiting for her double to
arrive. As soon as Elias’ men spotted Jillian’s car, Jillian would
go into the bathroom. Her double would go into the bathroom as well
and wait until Jillian was long gone before she snuck out through
the back.

It was a simple plan, but there were still
so many things that could go wrong. First and foremost, the shop’s
owner might not want to hire an ex-showgirl with a bum leg. Even if
the bum leg was being greatly exaggerated. She’d refused to wear
the god-awful brace, but agreed to affect a limp, so they’d
instructed her double to do likewise.

“The car just turned the corner.” Elias
motioned toward the bathroom. “You’re on.”

Swallowing past the lump in her throat,
Jillian pushed to her feet and hobbled over to the bathroom. A
strange sort of dread spread through her. If it hadn’t been for
Odintar, this might well have been her life for the next few years.
Surgeries and physical therapy, frustration and pain. She whispered
a prayer, thanking whatever god had sent him into her life for
their generosity.

She stood awkwardly in the bathroom and
waited for her double to arrive. If the other woman hadn’t been
dressed in an outfit identical to Jillian’s, she might not have
realized who she was supposed to be. They were both tall and
athletic, but her “double” was at least twenty years older than she
was and much more…weathered. She couldn’t think of a less insulting
adjective.

“Hi,” she greeted with an awkward wave.

“Hi, yourself.” She fished through her
shoulder bag and found a cigarette. “Oh God how I missed these.”
She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, a blissful expression
spreading across her face. “Loved your apartment. It’s way nicer
than mine. But the confinement was getting to me. Glad it’s over.
Keys are behind the visor. Cheers.” She walked into one of the
stalls and closed the door, dismissing Jillian.

Jillian smiled at the odd exchange and
rushed from the bathroom before the cloud of cigarette smoke found
her clothes.

Elias was nowhere in sight when she returned
to the small seating area. Odintar was here somewhere as well, but
he’d warned her that the level of shielding needed to hide from the
Shadow Assassins would make him undetectable to her as well.

Feeling a little abandoned, she headed for
the door. This plan still seemed overly risky to her. Nazerel might
not be the only Shadow Assassin who had looked through the
notebook. What if one of the others chose her as their prospective
mate? The thought was even more upsetting after the amazing night
she’d just spent in Odintar’s arms.

She couldn’t think like that or the Shadow
Assassins might sense her fear. They didn’t realize she knew about
them. That was her main advantage. As long as they didn’t suspect
she knew their secrets, and as long as they thought she was still
physically impaired, she should be relatively safe. It was
imperative that she seem intrigued and a little intimidated by
them, but nothing more.

Her real goal was to see if she could get
the employees gossiping about their unusual clientele. They might
know more than they realized they knew. But first she had to earn
their trust.

No. First you have to get the job.
She accepted the reminder and smoothed down her hair before she
opened the front door. The shop was in a newly renovated strip mall
in one of the older parts of town. Not fancy by any means, but
she’d seen far worse.

The door chimed as she pulled it open. The
interior was light and open, arranged to maximize limited
space.

“Have a seat. I’ll be right out,” someone
called from the behind the curtain obscuring the back of the
shop.

She moved to the couch situated
perpendicular to the long case displaying jewelry and various forms
of body art. Did they do piercings and implants or just tattoos? As
tattoos became more mainstream, the popularity of body modification
had begun to rise.

There were three photo albums on the coffee
table directly in front of the couch. Each cover featured a name in
bold, block letters. Tess, Roxie and Jett. The owner’s name was
Roxie, so Jillian picked up Roxie’s book. From the first page on it
was obvious that Roxie was a genuine talent. Her designs were
original and distinct, bold, yet elegant.

“What do you think? And don’t tell me
they’re nice.” An attractive woman in her late twenties or early
thirties skirted the display case and approached Jillian.

Jillian smiled. Apparently her interview had
just begun. She didn’t know for sure that this was Roxie, but she
suspected she was. With dark brown hair and pale blue eyes, her
face was as stunning as her artwork. “You like to over complicate
your designs, like you’re never sure when it’s finished.”

The young woman smiled, apparently pleased
by the observation. “Go on.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time playing—or
watching others play—video games. I see the influence of several
well-known gaming studios.”

“Guilty. But what made you think I watched
rather than played?”

So this was Roxie. “I can’t picture you
setting down your sketch pad long enough to get good at a video
game.”

“You’re very perceptive.” She crossed to the
coffee table and held out her hand. “Roxie Latimer and please tell
me you’re Jillian Taylor.”

Jillian set the photo album back on the
coffee table and stood before she shook Roxie’s hand. “I am. It’s
nice to meet you. I don’t want to misrepresent myself. I’m an art
fan, but I’m not an artist. Do you only need a receptionist or were
you hoping to recruit a fledgling artist?”

“The stations are full. We need a
receptionist.” She motioned toward the couch as she rounded the
table and sat as well.

Jillian pivoted toward her, carefully
positioning her formerly wounded leg.

Roxie noticed the motion, but didn’t mention
it. At least not directly. “So tell me about your work history. Are
you currently employed?”

“I was a dancer until a recent accident
forced me to reassess my career plans.” She didn’t need to fake the
pang of sadness in her voice.

“Oh my God! I knew you looked familiar.
You’re
the
Jillian Taylor. I saw
Star-Crossed
three
times. Jett said you’d landed a headline gig. What are you doing
here?”

“I’d performed sixteen shows when the
accident happened.” She motioned toward her leg. “It’s damaged
beyond repair. Dancing is no longer an option.”

Roxie reached over and squeezed her arm. “I
am so sorry. You were brilliant in
Star-Crossed
.”

“Thanks.” Her throat felt tight and tears
stung her eyes. Stubbornness alone held them back.

“I’m sorry. I’m being really insensitive.
The job is yours if you want it. The pay sucks, but you can have
all the free ink you want.”

“I’m not sure you want to make that offer.
I’m still a virgin.”

“I’d be happy to help with that,” the smoky
male voice drew her gaze to the opening leading to the back of the
shop. A lanky young man stood there, his asymmetrical hair and
heavily lined eyes broadcasting his profession. Not to mention the
tattoos that covered both arms and one side of his neck.

“Jett, this is—”

“Jillian Taylor requires no introduction.
Not in this town.”

It was torture. Every word they uttered
shined a glaring light on the life she was leaving behind. She’d
been a star. Well, more like an aspiring star, but she’d just
started to build momentum when it all came crashing down. Now she
was a fallen star trying to redefine herself in a reality she
didn’t quite understand.

“And I’m pretty sure she was referring to
her lily-white skin not her sex life,” Roxie pointed out
playfully.

“I’d love to take my needles to her almost
as much as—”

“Only you would call it a needle,” a female
pushed past him and smiled at Jillian. “At least he’s honest. Most
men exaggerate, or worse, compensate.”

“That’s Tess,” Roxie told her.

Tess looked more like a librarian than a
tattoo artist, but Jillian returned her smile. “Nice to meet you,
Tess.”

“Likewise. And I specialize in tattoo
virgins, so ignore him. Jett would be drooling all over you the
entire time anyway.”

“What, you don’t think she’s gorgeous? You
don’t have to like girls to appreciate a bod-face like hers.”

The slip had been so obvious all three
females laughed.

“Yes, she’s gorgeous, face and body,” Tess
volleyed, “but so is Roxie.”

“I’ve worn out all my fantasies about Roxie.
I was about to start fantasizing about you.”

“Naughty nanny or hot for teacher?” Tess
waved away both ideas. “You’re so predictable.”

“They never stop,” Roxie warned. “It’s
better to just ignore them.”

The door chimed and everyone looked at the
newcomer. Even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the man looked
intimidating. With sharp features and a dramatically sculpted
physique, he was either a Shadow Assassin or a world-class body
builder.

“Flynn,” Roxie greeted as she stood and
walked out from behind the coffee table. “I don’t think you’re on
my schedule. Are you taking someone else’s slot again?”

“Nazerel said you make time.” His accent was
so heavy his words were hard to understand.

“Go on back. I’ll be just a minute
longer.”

He nodded and headed for the doorway leading
to the work area.

Roxie turned back to Jillian with an
apologetic smile. “I don’t know why they’re suddenly in such a
hurry. You’d think they were leaving town or something.” She sighed
and smoothed down her black leather pants. “Anyway, when can you
start? We can work out a schedule that makes sense to both of us
when I don’t have one of my boys breathing down my neck.”

“How about Friday afternoon. That will give
me a day and a half to tie up loose ends.”

“Perfect. Come in around two.”

“I’ll be here.”

She waited until Roxie disappeared through
the doorway before she turned to Tess and asked, “Did she actually
refer to that mass of muscle as a boy?”

Tess laughed. “Their boss refers to them as
her boys and Rox has picked up the habit.”

“Their boss?” Jillian shook her head. “Do I
even want to know?”

“Oh we all want to know,” Jett interjected.
“But Roxie is keeping this mystery all to herself.”

“Not to mention a bunch more like Flynn. No
one else is allowed to work on ‘the boys’. It’s ridiculous.” Tess
crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the doorway through
which they’d passed.

“Well, I better get going.” Jillian stood,
reminding herself to favor her leg. “My numbers are on my
application. If anything changes, call. If not, I’ll see you
Friday.”

The sun stabbed into Jillian’s eyes as she
stepped out onto the sidewalk. She quickly found her sunglasses and
put them on, then looked for her car. She’d been so distracted when
she walked into Unique Ink, she’d forgotten to see where her double
had parked.

Carefully maintaining her role until she was
seated behind the wheel, she flipped down the visor and the keys to
her car, mailbox and apartment dropped into her lap. “I’m a person
again,” she muttered under her breath as she slipped the car key
into the ignition.

“No you’ll need a cell phone for that.”

She gasped. Odintar’s voice had been
audible, but he was still not visible.

“Where are you?”

“Backseat. There’s too many curious eyes
right here for me to lower my shields.”

“Got it.” She started the engine and drove
away from the strip mall. She found a secluded parking lot, checked
to make sure there were no surveillance cameras, then pulled to the
back corner of the lot.

“That went incredibly well.” Odintar finally
lowered his shields. “Seemed like a fun place to work.”

“Until the Shadow Assassin walk in.”

“You’ve already been more successful than
you realize. Think about what Roxie said. All of her clients are
rushing to finish their tattoos. Like they’re leaving town or
something.”

“Does that mean something specific to
you?”

“We’ve known for some time that they intend
to relocate to different cities. Team East was the first to leave.
Teams West and South have basically combined and we think they’ll
be the next to go. Flynn was on Team West.”

“All that means is we’re running out of time
to find them. We already knew that.”

“An operation like theirs takes serious
planning to relocate. There are signs, if you know what to watch.
This is encouraging.”

She didn’t feel encouraged. She felt exposed
and…used. This wasn’t even her fight. Why did she have to be the
one on the front line?

With a frustrated sigh, she contained her
pessimistic thoughts. It was her fight, whether she wanted to be
part of it or not. If they didn’t protect Roxie, it was more than
likely she’d disappear. And she’d die never knowing what she’d
stumbled into. Now that would be tragic.

“Care to share your thoughts. Your mind is
locked up tight.”

She met his gaze in the rearview mirror then
shook her head. “They’re not worth sharing. I’m just being
morose.”

He shifted into the front seat. He never
really disappeared completely. His body just sort of flowed from
one seat to the other. “I can handle morose. Did all the adulation
make you homesick for your old life?”