Leader Lion (Protection, Inc 5)

Grace

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Grace was doing the job she loved, working on a play that could be a smash hit and make her career, with the man she loved standing at her side. They were almost all the way through the play, nothing serious had gone wrong, and the audience seemed to be loving it. The flying sequences had gone smoothly and looked great, with Paris and Brady floating through the air against a starry outer space backdrop. Grace even had a beautiful bouquet of roses wafting their sweet scent throughout the booth. She’d never been happier in her life.

And then Brady took his first bite of homemade, honey-sweetened, raspberry-flavored Mars jello. For once, he didn’t pull a face. She didn’t know if it was because props had finally gotten it flavored to his satisfaction, or whether he’d obeyed her order to act as if he enjoyed it no matter what, or if the fact that he finally had a real audience meant that he was going to buckle down and do his job. But whatever the reason, he was chewing it like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.

“Finally,” Grace muttered.

Brady kept on chewing.

And chewing.

And chewing.

“What the hell is he up to?” Grace muttered to Rafa, clicking off her microphone so her words wouldn’t be transmitted to everyone on headset backstage. “It’s jello! He’s chewing it like it’s bubblegum.”

“Could it have come out too tough?” Rafa asked.

“Can’t be. He dug into it with a spoon.”

Brady’s expression became increasingly desperate as he kept chewing. Finally, he spat the mouthful out on to the plate and ad-libbed, “That stuff’s never going to replace McDonald’s.”

The audience burst out laughing.

Irritated, Grace clicked her microphone back on and said, “Carl, put Brady on headset when he gets backstage. Tell him we need to talk about the jello. Stage crew, stand by for scene change. Stand by for a blackout.”

Brady spoke his final line. She blacked out the stage and said, “Scene change go.” When Carl told her the scene change was complete, she brought the lights up for the next scene.

As the moons of Mars began to dance across the stage, Brady spoke into the microphone. “Grace! You’ve got to do something about the jello!”

“What was wrong with it this time?” As she spoke, she adjusted the spotlight to keep up with Melissa, who was dancing a little faster than usual.

“Too much gelatin,” Brady said. “Instead of melting in my mouth, it just broke into smaller and smaller pieces. I ended up with a mouthful of wet sand! I had to spit it out, or I’d have choked on it.”

“Sorry,” Grace said, watching the stage. Now Melissa was dancing too slow. Grace slowed down the spotlight. “That does sound gross. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll tell props. Stage crew, stand by for the scene change. Stand by for a blackout.” She glanced at the backstage monitor. “Carl, it looks like someone spilled some water by the stage left entrance. Can you mop it fast, before someone slips in it?” She blacked out the stage lights. “Set change go.”

As she brought up the lights and the next scene began, she split her attention between the stage and the backstage monitor. Backstage, Carl hurried toward the closet with the mops—the same one she and Rafa had once had amazing sex in.

Rafa clearly had the same thought, because he murmured, “Good times,” and ran a finger across the back of her neck.

She shivered with a sudden wave of desire. Clicking off her microphone, she said, “Maybe after the show.”

On the backstage monitor, Carl opened the closet and took out a mop. He started toward the puddle, then suddenly stopped by the stage door, which should have been closed but was standing ajar. His head jerked up at he stared at something outside. The monitor didn’t cover that area, so Grace couldn’t see what it was. But whatever it was, it had a strong effect on Carl. The mop fell from his hand. Then he bolted outside. The stage door swung shut behind him.

“What the hell...?” Grace muttered. “Rafa, did you see that?”

She glanced up at him. His face and body were radiating an alert readiness that she’d last seen when someone had shot at them. It scared the hell out of her.

“I saw it,” Rafa said quietly. “The question is, what did Carl see? I better go find out.”

Her stomach lurched with anxiety. “Be careful.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

Rafa was out of the booth and climbing down the ladder almost before she could blink. She went on running the lights and sound on autopilot, but she barely paid any attention to what was happening onstage. Instead, she watched Rafa on the backstage monitor as he stalked toward the door like a lion in human form. He looked strong and capable and confident, easily able to handle anything. Grace wanted to believe that he’d be fine no matter he faced.

I just wish I knew what Carl saw, she thought uneasily.

Rafa opened the door a crack, peered out, then opened it a little wider and stepped out.

The door closed behind him.