Page 51 of Shadow Dance

I glance at her, catching the displeasure on her face. I wonder, once again, what’s stopping her from leaving this guy. “You need to stop at the store or something?”

“Yeah,” she says with a heavy sigh. “The parties are bad enough, now he has me cooking for these buffoons.”

Chuckling, I buckle my seat belt. “Am I a buffoon too?”

“I don’t know, are you?” She smirks as she pulls a tube of Chapstick from her bag.

“Careful now,” I tease.

“You know you’re nothing like them.”

I smile, because she’s more right than she knows. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You’re just different,” she says. “You actually see me. None of them do … not even Cal.”

The giddy feelings evaporate, leaving a residue of guilt. I do see Maeve, but she hasn’t seen all of me, not really. And when she does, she might not like what she sees.

“I’m sorry for slapping you,” she says suddenly, touching my cheek. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Still, Jaime.” She takes back her hand and tucks it between her thighs. “I don’t want to be that person. I’m really sorry.”

I pull her hand back and hold it on the console between us. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

We’re at the store when I get a text from Leo on my burner. Letting Maeve know I need to take a call, I slip outside and call him back.

“You know that safe?” he greets me. “In Cal’s office?”

My stomachtightens in nervous anticipation. About a month ago, while reviewing spycam footage, I saw Cal open the ottoman beside the couch in the office. It was actually a diversion safe. Smart.

But not smart enough.

“Yeah, what about it?” I reply, watching a man struggle to contain an exuberant toddler as they cross the parking lot.

“Can you get to it?”

“Get to it or into it?” I joke.

“Yes or no, J,” Leo says impatiently.

“Maybe—”

“Yes or no.”

I lean against the side of the building, mentally shuffling through what I know about Cal and his schedule. He’s all over the place, but then I remember something Maeve mentioned recently. “Actually, yeah, I think I can. He’s supposed to be leaving for a couple days, to spend Thanksgiving with his family. She’s going with him, so the house will be empty. No one’s supposed to be there, not even me.”

“Perfect,” says Leo. “I need you to get in and inventory what’s inside. Don’t take anything.”

“All right.” I chew my lip, frowning. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re still ironing out the details,” he says. “I’ll call you back in a couple days, let you know what’s up.”

He disconnects and I pocket my phone, unsettled. This is what I wanted—for Leo and Cedro to make their move so I could move on from this assignment at Cal’s. But now that it’s happening, I feel off. This situation is more complicated than it was in the beginning. There are factors I didn’t anticipate. Like Maeve.

I’m torn, caught between two worlds, two versions of myself. The cold, calculating exterior that guarantees my survival and the real me beneath, risking it all for a connection with someone I can’t have.

Back inside, I find Maeve waiting in line with her basket. Plucking a box of salted caramel chocolates from a display, I join her in line.

---