Audition (North Security 4)

He shrugs and tosses the bag onto the grass. “Suit yourself.”

Before I can think it through, I snatch it up. “Don’t do that.”

A smirk. He must know how badly I want these beignets. Cafe du Monde makes the best in the world. “Thought you might be hungry. Your teacher’s a real bitch, isn’t she?”

I continue walking on the path, the heavy bag clutched in my fist, and he falls into step beside me. My teacher is a bitch, but I’m not about to agree with him. She’s mean, but she’s good. Every time she corrects my form, every time she shouts, again, every time she slaps a ruler against my thigh for missing the beat, I’m one step closer to leaving this city.

“Are you stalking me?” I ask, reaching into the bag. God, there must be ten of them in here. Still warm. I pinch off a large chunk and put it in my mouth. Yeast. Sugar. It tastes like pure heaven. I’m not sure it would be bad to have a stalker if he brought beignets.

“Your brother asked me to.” He snorts. “A bit like the fox watching the henhouse.”

I pause only a moment in bringing the beignet to my mouth. Don’t let him see you afraid. Don’t let him see you weak. “You’re not a fox. I’m not a hen.”

Those sharp green eyes don’t miss a goddamn beat. He sees my hesitation. Maybe he even sees my fear. Knowledge can be a weapon, and this man seems especially dangerous. “More afraid of your brother than me, are you? What does the fucker do to you?”

“He doesn’t touch me.” Too much bravado. It sounds like a lie.

“Should I kill him for you?” The question comes out light, almost playful. It makes my heart skip a beat. These are the kind of men my brother makes friends with. Killers.

“No.”

He glances sideways at a particularly intricate angel spreading her wings above a crypt. “You sure? I wouldn’t mind. It would give me something to do besides drink and fuck.”

My stomach clenches around the bites I’ve taken. I force the rest of the beignet into my mouth. I’m sure my lips are covered in white powder. “You’re an asshole.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Why do you think I get along with your brother?”

I pull out another beignet before shoving the rest into my messenger bag. They aren’t exactly expensive, but there’s never extra money for sweets. Not when there are rips in my leotards and holes in my shoes. “Don’t let him hear you talk like that. Even if you’re joking.”

Then he’s standing in front of me, moving so swift and quiet that I almost run into him. I’m around dancers every afternoon. Athletes. It still takes me by surprise. How does a soldier move with such grace? “Awww, are you worried for my safety? You think your brother is going to bury me in one of these unmarked plots?”

You wouldn’t be the first one. I don’t share that part. This man doesn’t deserve my protection. He hasn’t earned it, not even with the sugary goodness in my messenger bag. Dinner. That’s what I’ll eat for dinner. It will be a welcome respite from endless spicy stew. “He really asked you to follow me?”

“Wanted me to make sure you got home safe.”

More likely he wanted to make sure I didn’t take a detour. My brother has a lot of friends in this city. He has even more enemies. I wonder how much Josh knows about that. “Who would want to hurt me?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

We reach the end of the cemetery. There’s no break in the iron here—only a low tomb that serves as a stepping stone. I hitch myself up and grab the arrows at the top of the fence. With a grunt I swing myself over. I land with an inelegant thud, the messenger bag slapping against my hip. Josh barely makes a sound when he follows me over. Most people don’t realize it’s easy to throw your body weight around. Muscles and inertia go a long way. It’s much harder to control the fall, to pull your punch. It’s much harder to be soft.

“Thanks for the beignets,” I say, squinting into the sunlight. I can see my house from here, the yellow gate, the black roof. The shards of glass dotting the top of the concrete fence. “In return I’m going to give you some free advice. Go away. Go back where you came from or anywhere at all. New Orleans has nothing good

to offer you.”

It’s not hard to see that my brother has plans for this man. He’s skilled and without morals—the perfect employee for my brother’s business. Plenty of people have come and gone. Most disappear without a word. I never know if they’ve left or ended up dead. For some reason it matters that Josh doesn’t follow in their footsteps. The money isn’t worth losing your soul.

Josh leans back against the iron gate, crossing his arms in a pose of supreme relaxation. I can almost pretend I don’t see his alert emerald gaze or the bulk of a gun beneath his T-shirt. “You turn and turn and turn, like one of those ballet figures in a music box. Don’t you ever want to break out of the mold? Do something other than a pretty little plié?”

Every time I breathe. “You don’t know anything about my plans.”

“I know you’re afraid of something. And I know it’s not me. Call me jaded, but that’s pretty fucking interesting. I’m used to being the most scary motherfucker in the room.”

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Goodbye, Josh.”

I already have my back to him when his reply floats on the heavy breeze. “You’re wrong about one thing,” he says, his voice rich in the humid air. “New Orleans has something good to offer me. It has you.”

Probably a guy like this should be given the last word, but I’ve been flirting with danger too long to let him. There’s something about Josh that calls me to tease him. I blow him a kiss with an exaggerated wave of my hand. Goodbye, goodbye.

CHAPTER SIX