Page 12 of Watch Me

“This video feels as if you were targeted specifically,” I say. “The note was delivered to your dressing room, so close to a major competition…”

Her eyes widen. “That’s it! Do any of my competitors belong to your club?”

I exchange a glance with Del. Shanna may be onto something, and if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, I’ll need her help, too. Yes, I want her. Hell, I burn for her. Butsomeone has violated the sanctity of my club. And I won’t stand for that.

“We can’t divulge anything about our members. But we’ll look into this. Thoroughly.” I lean forward, catching her gaze. “I promise you, we’ll find out who did this.”

She nods, tension evident in her posture. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

As she turns to leave, I can't help but add, “And Shanna? When this is all over, you still owe me six and a half dances. I intend to collect.”

7

“Wait,” Del calls to Shanna, then shoots a raised brow my way.

Without a word, I know what he’s up to. That's the great thing about having been friends for nearly a decade. We can basically read each other's minds. Answering her the way Del intends isn’t really giving away information… I nod my approval.

Del smiles. “I can say this: Kristoff is the only member here who’s a ballroom dancer and he’s recent. He came highly recommended and has been very active since he joined.”

“I’ll bet.” She snorts. “And here I thought he was your average, garden-variety gay man…”

Del chokes. I resist the urge to howl with laughter.

“Okay, clearly that’s untrue. You two can stop snickering.” She rolls her eyes as a smile tugs at her lips. “What about any of my former dance partners?”

I doubt she suspects Jonathan Smythe, but according to Mamá, the first two hate her.

“Do you know who they are?” she asks.

“Yes, but none of your former partners are members.”

Shanna bites a pink, bee-stung lip as she thinks. “Have any of your other members reported this type of breach in privacy?”

“Absolutely not. But one thing is clear: while whoever took the footage isn’t one of your competitors, it’s seemingly someone who knows about your world of ballroom. About you and what you value.”

“Precisely,” Del adds. “Someone who knows that competition is coming up and that the judges will punish you if such footage becomes public.”

“You’re right,” she concedes. “Any ideas who among your members that could be? I know you can’t give me names, but…”

Again, I look at Del, who shakes his head. “Not a clue.”

“We could ask you the same question,” I counter. “Who are your enemies?”

Shanna hesitates as if scanning her memories. “If it’s not a former partner or a competitor, I can’t think of a single person who hates me enough to want to crush me.”

“But if any guest is a friend to one of your former partners or competitors, we have no way of knowing.”

“True…” Shanna nibbles nervously on a fingernail, then, as if realizing she’s done something less than perfect, she stops. “What about employees? Do any of them have access to video cameras and those rooms? Maybe they were willing to take a bribe and?—”

“Highly unlikely,” Del replies. “We have four types of employees: security, housekeeping, waitstaff, and bar crew. That’s it. Most are trusted friends, and we pay them to be invisible unless they’re needed. None of those employees should be anywhere near a room when it's in use. All the watching and exhibiting is done for and with fellow members.”

Shanna sighs. “Another dead end…”

“It appears”—Del looks my way with the glint of the devil in his eyes—“that we should draw out your blackmailer.”

“You mean have Kristoff repeat the scene and hope someone makes another recording?”

“No,” I say, catching on to the idea. “Kristoff has been recorded. He’s served his purpose. It’s interesting that whoever recorded him chose to give the video not to him, but to you.”

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