Imminent Danger (Adrenaline Highs) (8 page)

“A new dance/reality show pilot.”

That could be promising. “Sounds horrible,” she deadpanned. “What time?”

Mallory laughed at her delivery as Blake watched her, his eyes narrowed and unhappy. Abbey ignored him and reached for the backseat handle of Troy’s Beemer.

“How fast can you get there? They’re seeing people all day,” Mallory said. “This is big. They need separate teams and team captains. There’ll probably be a lot of mix and match to see what works.” She rattled off the address, a dance studio Abbey recognized. “Call me when you’re done and let me know how it went.”

Abbey slid into the back seat. “I will. Talk to you late—” But Mallory had already disconnected. Typical. Abbey mentally considered the audition clothes in her closet. For something like this, she needed to stand out more than ever.

“You’re not seriously thinking of going out on an audition today, are you?” Blake asked, facing her.

Abbey resisted the eye roll, but she couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Yes, I am going on this audition because it’s for a pilot. If I land it and it goes, I have permanent work.” She really couldn’t explain it any more concisely than that. She shot her boss an apologetic look since she hadn’t even asked for the time off yet.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He looked toward Troy and Julie getting settled in the front seat. “Do you?”

“No offense,” Abbey said, cutting off Julie before she got started. “But this is my life and if I get an audition, then I’m going.” Period. End of story, but those words came though without having to say them as she folded her arms and dared anyone to argue. “Besides, why isn’t it a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” Blake said. “I just don’t have a good feeling. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be.” Abbey buckled her seat belt.

“It’s not about what I need or want. It’s about the way I feel. I don’t like that these guys are out there and I don’t want you to be alone. Can I at least go with you?”

Abbey’s patience slipped a notch as she met his gaze. “This is ridiculous. You cannot think to babysit me for the rest of time.”

“I’m not talking about the rest of time, I’m talking about today. This week. The next two weeks. Just until I feel like you’re safe.”

The thought that she might be a target made her skin crawl and reminded her of Blake’s bomb back inside. Yes, the suspect had been an accomplice in the stabbing of a man and he’d chased her, and knowing he’d kidnapped a whole family added another layer of
bad
to the equation. There was one thing she hadn’t realized before now. She had more in common with Blake St. John than she originally thought and it wasn’t anything good.

Blake didn’t care how much Abbey hated having a bodyguard, because until the SOB who saw her got caught, he planned to stick to her like a second skin.

Yeah, right. If only
that
were possible.

At the moment, he waited for Abbey to emerge from her bedroom. She’d disappeared a half hour ago to get ready for her audition and left Blake to loiter in her living room. Abbey’s one bedroom apartment was as original as the woman who lived in it. It was twice the size of his place. Working for Julie had obviously agreed with Abbey’s wallet.

The pictures lined up on a funky distressed teal bookcase told him a little more about her. A portrait showed a loving, tight-knit family; the four of them in jeans and white shirts with big smiles for each other. Almost as if this had been an outtake and not the picture they might’ve chosen as the one to frame. That one shot captured the love between her parents. The two of them couldn’t not have been more polar opposites in appearance. Abbey’s dad’s dark-as-night skin contrasted sharply with her mother’s pale complexion and light blond hair. Abbey clearly got her green eyes from her mother, but she had her father’s wide smile…at least when she chose to smile. The other female in the photo had to be her sister.

Blake checked out a couple more pictures on the shelf… Abbey with her sister, and one with her parents in formal attire. They made a good-looking couple.

He turned back to the apartment. Man, what a mess. He nearly laughed. It wasn’t at all what he expected. She kept Julie so organized, he would’ve sworn she was a neat freak. Not the case. Not even close.

And he liked it.

He liked that she had a flaw, because up until now—aside from her attitude toward him—she had seemed perfect. She had vulnerability, a shyness that drew him in, and when she laughed, the husky sound slid through him like the best liquor. Everything about her absolutely lit him up. The color of her eyes, the smoothness of her skin, the fullness of her lips… Hell, even her great posture gave him a woody. Her dancer’s body was clean lines and pure muscle. Every move she made reeked of grace and elegance.

Yet her apartment… Clothes covered most of the white sofa and matching chair. A few empty cups and plates littered the beige tile counter and pine table. It didn’t look dirty, it just looked messy. Lived in. Or not lived in. As if the time she spent here was only enough to get what she needed and run to the next event. Like now.

Blake chuckled.

“You’re in a good mood,” Abbey said, coming out of her bedroom.

Blake turned and nearly dropped to the ground in supplication. It took a concerted effort to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

Abbey canted her head. “What?”

What?
Was she kidding?
What
was that in thirty minutes she’d transformed herself from stunning girl to absolute Miss Universe perfection. He didn’t often see her wearing makeup and the effect it had on her already smooth skin and clear green eyes nearly brought him to his knees. Her dirty blond hair hung smooth and long around her shoulders, and the form-fitting strappy neon pink top and black leggings with a matching pink stripe down the side showed off her toned dancer’s body. He pegged her at five foot eight and she was all legs. The girl had legs to her neck. Legs he wanted wrapped around his waist as he pushed inside of her and sent them both—

“Hello.” Abbey snapped her fingers in the air. “Blake. Yo.”

He snapped out of his daydream.

“What’s got you on another planet?” She headed to the sofa and left the smell of citrus in her wake. She rifled through her bag for something.

“Uh…nothing.” He backed up toward the door. “You ready to go?” If he stayed in her apartment much longer, she might end up out of those clothes she wore. Man, he could imagine stripping everything off her. Slowly and surely exposing every inch of smooth, soft skin.

“I don’t know.” She put a hand on her hip and cocked a stance. “You ready to stop looking at me like I’m your next meal?”

His gaze flashed to hers and he smiled. “Was I doing that?”

She nodded with one eyebrow arched high.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’ll work on it.”

“Good. You need to.” She swung a large bag over her shoulder. “C’mon. I don’t want to be late,” she said, passing him to open the front door.

Blake kept an eye out in the hallway as Abbey locked up. He’d never felt more itchy, and working with Troy had taught him to trust his instincts. He looked around the quiet neighborhood as he and Abbey headed toward his SUV. “See any unfamiliar cars around?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

“I’m not here enough to see familiar cars much less unfamiliar ones.” She tossed her bag on the passenger floor then hopped in the seat.

Blake scanned the tree-lined neighborhood before getting behind the wheel a few seconds later. He clicked his seat belt, cranked the engine and merged into traffic. “So how long will this thing take?”

“Hard to tell. Probably three hours to start. It depends on how many people they called and how much they want to see. If I make the cut, I could be there longer.”

“Three
hours?
” That sounded crazy. “You do this all the time? Jumping when your agent calls, scrambling to get across town to make an audition, then scrambling back to Julie when you’re done?” He slowed for the stop sign at the corner of her block.

She nodded. “Pretty much. I’m lucky she’s mostly flexible.”

“How long have you been dancing?” he asked, checking the intersection and moving through it.

“As long as I can remember. My mom put me in ballet when I was little and I loved it.”

Blake pictured a tiny Abbey wearing a tutu and outshining all the other girls.

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asked.

“I have a vivid picture of you wearing a pink tutu with your hair in a bun and your arms over your head.” He caught a rare grin as she nodded.

“That about sums it up. We had tap and gymnastics, too, but I loved ballet the most.” Her smile faded as she gazed out the window.

Before he had a chance to ask her more, she gave him directions to the studio and cranked the radio. Just when he thought he might actually have a conversation with her, she pulled the plug. After arriving at their destination twenty-five minutes later, he had to drop Abbey off at the front because of a lack of street parking on his part and lack of time on hers.

Jumping out of the SUV, she glanced down the street and pointed. “Hey, there’s a car leaving. Grab that meter while it’s open or you’ll be driving around forever. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Sounds good.” Blake watched her enter the building, way too interested in the curve of her ass before remembering he needed to snag parking in the newly opened space across the next intersection. After sliding into the spot, he dumped most of his change in the two hour meter then strolled to the studio. Dozens of dancers loitered outside the building, some stretching, some texting and some talking on their phones. A few minutes later, he spotted Abbey through the glass window as she warmed up with a group of five other people. They all had numbers pinned to their clothes. Eventually, they got into two lines with someone at the front of the room showing them moves. Abbey mesmerized him. She caught on in seconds and nailed the dance with ultimate precision. She had more skill than Michael Jackson and Lady Gaga put together. Hell, every gaze in the studio followed her. It was impossible not to.

How the hell had she not bagged more dance jobs before now?

The sun warmed his shoulders as he watched her. The beat of the hip hop music vibrated through the window and it seemed as if Abbey had been born to the dance. She swiveled and jumped, turned and lunged, bumped and grinded.

A primal thumping started in Blake’s chest as he continued to watch her. Her moves were like a sunset or a rainbow, where each position spoke its own color then merged into another and another. Abbey created an artistic autograph that belonged strictly to her.

Once the dancers had warmed up, a woman came in with a clipboard and started calling numbers. Blake couldn’t hear her, but he read her lips.
Number five.
Looked like his girl was still in. Check that. She wasn’t his girl, he just wished to hell she was.

One hour ticked by. Then two. Blake fed the meter and came back. He checked his watch for the tenth time then scanned the block. Three hours. Everything looked normal. People walked by with pets or lovers and cars zoomed past going way faster than the speed limit. Normal Los Angeles.

Right before they hit four hours, the door opened and Abbey finally came out, a smile on her face. Not just a regular smile, but an
I have a secret
smile. Blake moved toward her when a young woman cut in front of him.

“Abbey!” she squealed and hugged the stuffing out of her.

For a quick second, Abbey froze in midhug, but she pulled back and smiled. “Courtney! I haven’t seen you in months. How are you?”

Uh oh. Blake knew a delay when he saw one. This might take a few minutes. He remembered all the times he and his brothers waited for their mom when she gabbed with the neighbors or ran into someone at the grocery store or gym. Her
I’ll only be a minute
, usually lasted about twenty. If they were lucky. He checked his watch again then glanced at his SUV…where a parking enforcement Prius was gliding into a loading zone a couple spots in front of him.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered as he took off for the car. “Abbey!” he called over his shoulder. “Feeding the meter! Be right back.”

She acknowledged him with a wave and kept talking to her friend.

Blake just made the meter and shoved in a few more nickels. The only thing he had left in his pocket. It bought him nine minutes. Highway robbery. “Thank you, City of Los Angeles,” he grumbled. The meter maid tapped her pencil on her pad and gave him the stink eye before walking back to her car.

An engine revved loud and Blake’s pulse bumped up. He looked up the street and saw some teenagers screwing with a monster Chevy truck jacked up on high suspension. He shook off the tension and huffed out a breath. “Everything’s fine, St. John. Don’t get your boxers in a bunch,” he told himself quietly, using his big brother’s favorite line.

Blake checked his watch against the meter and looked up as the monster truck revved again. A black car with full on black tinted windows passed the Chevy. The car closed the distance, then suddenly the tires squealed, burning rubber. Blake’s pulse did a full on gainer as the car shot forward.

“Abbey,” he said, not nearly loud enough. The car jumped the sidewalk from an open loading zone area and barreled toward her. “Abbey!” This time Blake yelled at the top of his lungs as he sprinted toward her. He’d never make it in time. Not even close. “Watch out!”