Mission: Out of Control

by Susan May Warren

  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…wh
ile 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.

  In fact, he’d been the one to set up her cell phone, even devising his own password for her phone, Sigma Alpha Mu, from his fraternity days, plus her birthday: SAM0329.

  SAM.

  SAM0613. June 13. His birthday.

  How could she have missed that?

  She could hear her pre-entrance video start up.

  Tommy D wouldn’t—couldn’t—shoot her, right? Where would he get a gun?

  Damu. He had security and plenty of weaponry. She’d seen it firsthand. What if Tommy D had read her text message from Bishop? What if Damu knew she’d taken his computer and passed on that information to Tommy?

  Then Tommy would have to stop her before she told Bishop what they were doing, where to find him.

  “Oh, no. Tommy. You have to tell Brody—”

  “Tell him what?”

  “That Tommy tried to kill me!”

  “Tommy? Why would Tommy want to kill you?”

  “Just tell Brody, okay?”

  The crowd had begun to chant her name.

  Leah turned her toward the curtain separating her from the stage. “Okay, okay. Just get out there onstage.”

  “I’m not coming off until he finds Tommy. Otherwise he won’t go looking for him. I’ll be fine with an audience of fans watching and Brody will know exactly where I am.”

  “What about your swing song?”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you in the back for that. I’ll stay in this costume for the rest.”

  Leah looked at her with wide eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”

  Well, sort of. Her heart hadn’t a clue what it might be doing.

  But maybe that, too, was up to God.

  Please, watch over us all.

  She took a breath, pasted on a smile and climbed onto the stage and into the blinding spotlight.

  FIFTEEN

  That voice. He’d know it anywhere. Brody stood in the wings of the darkened stage, behind a speaker, his eyes on the audience.

  Until that voice lifted in the darkness. A cappella, the song started out soft, like a dewdrop sinking into the earth, the melody soaking through the ornate ceilings, through the crowd—through him. He held his breath at her words.

  “Eyes that hold me, caring who I might be…”

  One single light bathed her, turning her dress into a shimmering indigo flame.

  “Arms that catch me or set me free…”

  He edged around the front. Her profile was breathtaking, her eyes closed. Her voice became dark chocolate, with hints of cream.

  “Maybe I can fly, cross a thousand seas. Yet still he will find me, even in my dreams.”

  So breakable, like she’d been that first night in the club in D.C. Spikey and tough in Berlin. Sweet butter in the shadows of Prague. The textures of Ronie, each one of them exactly her.

  She’d never been hiding. She’d been there all the time.

  He pressed his hand to his chest.

  “He is my invisible, the only one who sees, reaching…”

  “Wick, are you there?” Artyom’s voice blared in his ear.

  Not now. He ducked back, cupped his hand over his mouth. “What?”

  “I just wanted you to know that we got shots of everyone who entered tonight. And Luke and I have eyes on the crowd.”

  “Perfect. Awesome.”

  He turned back. The last of her notes, resonant, lay like a blanket over the hushed room, almost as if he were in church. His spirit unhinged from him, made something inside him want to weep.

  How was he expected to put her on a plane tomorrow? She’d awakened a dead man.

  The light faded and he expected her to rush past him for a costume change, but she stayed onstage, raising her hands to her audience, that smile he knew so well—a real smile—soaking in the applause.

  But why hadn’t she changed clothes?

  Spotlights lit up the stage and her band came to life with her cover song, “Liquid.” She took the microphone from the stand, and in that blue dress she became the performer he always knew was behind the mask.

  Look into the audience. Stay awak
e.

  This was why he had to put her on a plane. He tore his eyes off her and forced his legs to move him back into the recesses of the stage to watch the crowd. The outlines pressed close, most dancing.

  He hadn’t a clue whom to suspect.

  And the thought nearly compelled him to run onto the stage and sweep her into his arms.

  Love—okay, yes, he could admit it, he loved Ronie, loved every crazy side of her—and it terrified him. It threw him off his game.

  Why did God give you this assignment?

  Chet’s words raked through him.

  Okay, then, why? So he could make a fool out of himself again? A second chance to fail?

  Or a second chance to succeed.

  God wants to be your savior, Wick. Just like you’re Ronie’s.

  Maybe God had forgiven him, would even give him a second chance at love with a woman who shared his heart, who wanted to rescue others.

  She’d certainly rescued him from the life he’d boxed himself into. From having to hang around every day with the cynical, angry version of himself that had no doubt begun to poison him.

  Because of her, he was absolutely going to be on his game. Please, God, protect her, through me if you have to.

  “Hey, Mr. Brody, did my sister find you?” Lyle edged up behind him. The kid had stayed out of his way for the past week, ever since Brody had barked at him the night Ronie disappeared in Prague. Yes, he felt a little guilty about that. He softened his tone.

  “No, Lyle. What’s up?”

  “She was looking for you—said something about finding Tommy D.”

  Ronie had finished her number and moved onto a third. Apparently she planned on staying in that dress. Not a problem with him.

  “Where is he?”

  “Getting flowers, probably. He always does that the last night of the tour. Then I bring them to her onstage.”

  Hence, probably the suit and tie on the kid. “That’s sweet.”

  “It’s a tradition.”

  A tradition. The last night of the tour. Meaning, while Vonya was wooing the crowds, Tommy vanished, unaccounted for.

  Free to meet with Damu, and hide the diamonds…where?

  The light caught her dress, a shimmering spray of light…

  Her costumes.

  Of course. He might have had them sewn onto her dresses, or even passed off as a prop.