Page 267 of Enemies

When I lift my headphones onto my ears, I focus on what I can do—my set.

From the first chords of my opening track of the night, the crowd erupts. The lights come up, and they see me and I see them.

This is what I wanted, and nothing can take tonight away from me.

It’s my job to hold them in my hands. To take them on a journey, to keep them safe and entertained and away from whatever’s going on behind closed doors.

I lose myself.

It’s the end of my set when my phone lights up.

Harrison: There’s a problem. The deal’s supposed to be going down, but the cameras haven’t shown Mischa setting foot near his office.

Shit.

I scan the venue from my bird’s-eye view on stage. Nothing.

Rae: Maybe it’s not happening tonight.

Harrison: She said it was.

“She” meaning Eva.

Did she cross us? I could see her fucking with me, but not Harrison.

If she did…

My blood runs cold.

Rae: He has to be around.

My set wraps up, and I head back to the green room, muttering to security about needing to unwind in private. Then I call a number.

A few minutes later, the blond woman slips into my room. I whirl to face her.

“You set us up. Where is he?” I demand.

Eva cuts a look down the hall. “VIP. The deal moved.”

“The cameras didn’t show him going in there.”

“There’s another entrance.”

“Did you tell the police? Harrison?”

“No.”

I hit Harrison’s number.

“It’s in the VIP room,” I bite out when he answers.

He exhales tightly. “They won’t move without visual confirmation of what’s happening in there. Sawyer’s cameras don’t include the VIP.”

This is bad. There’s no way to get eyes into that room. If they don’t act now, who knows when there will be another chance.

I press a hand to my stomach, sweat still sticking my clothes to my skin. My fingers brush the smooth buttons of my tailored vest. One is smooth. One has a slight bump.

I glance down at the camera. “Harrison? Did Sawyer get the feed from my show?”

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