Audition (North Security 4)

There wouldn’t be this ache or this dread.

Instead I lift my head. It’s dark, and my eyes can capture only dust motes and shadow. Then slowly, the expanse of a room. Pictures flash through my mind in close succession, a horror reel of my afternoon—my apartment, the black SUV.

Where’s Noah? Has something happened to him?

Well. Something must have happened. I remember the sound of Connor’s laugh, like a deranged frat boy. Something small and black in his hand. And then the most terrible pain searing my nerves. A taser? Jesus.

There’s something very menacing about a taser. It shows a level of forethought that chills me to the bone. It’s almost worse that it’s not a gun—it means he doesn’t want to kill me. No, he wants to drag this out. He wants me under his control, and he doesn’t care how much it hurts.

There’s humming somewhere in this cavernous space.

It echoes off the walls, slightly out of tune and broken up, raising goosebumps on my arms. It’s the Dance of the Swans. Which could be random, but considering Landon adapted it from Swan Lake for his show, Duckling, it feels pointed.

As if he knows that.

As if he’s been watching me even when I’ve been rehearsing.

Footsteps cross the floor with a familiar sound. This isn’t a regular floor. It isn’t concrete or tile. It’s parquet, the same kind we used to practice. I blink up at the ceiling. It’s mottled and moldy, but it looks familiar, too. Where did he take me? Lingering pain still clouds my senses.

Someone looms over me. He kneels. “You’re awake, little dancer. I’ve been waiting for this performance for a long time. You don’t even know how long, do you?”

The unhinged lilt in his voice makes me shiver. “Connor?”

“You remember me. God, I was worried you wouldn’t. But I didn’t need to be.”

I wonder if I should stroke his ego. I wonder if that would keep me alive longer. A fist squeezes my heart, because I want to see Joshua. I want him to hold me, except I never should have let myself fall for him. Not five years ago. Not today. “Of course I remember you. You worked with my brother.”

Immediately I know it’s the wrong thing to say. His expression turns dark, almost feral. “Your fucking brother. He sold me out for his freedom and a bottle of Jack. Him and Josh got real cozy.”

My breath catches. Connor blames my brother. That’s fair enough. It’s more scary that he blames Josh. Will he go after him next? “It was a long time ago.”

A short laugh. “Five years seems like a long time when you’re behind bars. Even that was lucky. I had to turn over so much fucking information for them to even meet with me. Name after name. Detail after fucking detail until we could finally make a goddamn deal.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and strangely enough, it’s true. Connor deserves to be behind bars. He probably deserves worse than that. Except I wanted my brother alive. I felt that much loyalty to him. So I asked Josh to help, and despite his cruel words, he did.

In a complex way, I’m responsible for what happened to Connor.

A blunt finger traces along my jaw. “Don’t be. You’re goi

ng to make it up to me. I’ve been dreaming of you. Imagining you dancing. All those times Caleb wanted me to walk you home, as if he didn’t know I’d want to fuck you. He wanted us to see what we couldn’t have.”

The shadows behind him finally sharpen, and I suck in a breath. We’re in my old dance studio. The last time I was in here, Josh was the one who escorted me home. Soon after that everything came to a head—and when Caleb lost his source of income, I lost the ability to pay for these lessons. I kept dancing, of course. I made my own way in the world, without the help of my brother or his terrible money. “Connor.” I try to make my voice sound reasonable, as if we’re having a conversation in Starbucks instead of with my hands tied behind my back. “I understand you’re upset with Caleb. And with me. You have a right to be angry, but I—”

“With you? No. No, I’m not angry at you.” He makes an abrupt movement with his hand, as if cutting off his hands. “I know I sent those letters. Maybe I was angry that you hadn’t visited me in prison, but I understood. Your brother wouldn’t let you.”

I stare at him, a cold chill settling over me. It sounds like he’s created this story of a romance between us, one that I should have pursued, one that I wanted. “I didn’t know you were in jail. I didn’t know that, but even if I did, I wouldn’t have visited you, Connor. We barely knew each other.”

His brown eyes narrow. “You little bitch.”

Part of me knows I should placate him. He’s the one with the taser—and probably worse weapons. The other part of me is truly offended by the very idea of placating him. “We can get to know each other,” I say, throwing out the idea more with panic than any real plan. “I want to know about you.”

He’s not fooled. He might be crazy, but he’s not exactly dumb. He wouldn’t have been useful to Caleb if he couldn’t see through a blatant lie. “Enough talking. That’s not what I was dreaming about all those years behind bars, anyway. I was thinking about this.” He runs a hand down my side, cupping my breast through my clothes, and I gasp out, “Stop.”

A hard smile. He squeezes my breast until tears prick my eyes.

“You’re going to dance for me. The best performance of your life, aren’t you? You make me enjoy it, or I’ll make you regret it.” His erection looks large in his sweatpants, and I feel like I might throw up. Mamere always said that being a dancer was no different than stripping. I always said she was wrong, but here in this moment it’s like the nightmare’s come true.

Josh