Page 61 of Stripped

He stood up straight at the frankness of her question. "No one," he said, turning his attention back to the noise in the hallway. Someone knocked on the door. Three knocks, silence, then two more in quick succession.

"I asked you a question?" She could feel the anger in her grow.

"And I said no one." He removed the chair and opened the door, letting a man with short red hair inside. The man gave her a brief nod. She backed up into the corner, realization dawning on her. Her grandfather didn't pay Wraith to kill anyone. She doubted he ever worked for him. Wraith had been there to kill her grandfather.

"What's going on?" he asked the man. He was tall like Wraith and well built.

"The fool playing Rothbart is dead. I found him backstage with his wrists cut. The man playing Siegfried will be fine, it was just a flesh wound. No sign of Sokolov, but that was definitely a laser scope on Rothbart's head." He glanced between Wraith and Pim, handing her a black rose. "This was left at the door."

Wraith tried to take it from her, but she held on to it, reading the card that was attached.

Every time you dance, you shed an old skin. Liberation and pure bliss are near. V.S.

Wraith grabbed it from her hand.

"We need to go. Gabriel will be outside with the car," the man said.

Pim shuddered, the frisson of the words on the card inciting both excitement and fear. She grabbed her bag off the pink chair and reached in for a jacket. Wraith's gun from the car sat heavy on the bottom, her fingers brushing over the cold, hard metal. If she pulled it out now, she would be no better than him.

"Let's go." He held his hand out to her.

She shook her head. "Did you kill my grandfather?" She needed to know.

"No."

"Liar," she spat.

"Primrose, we need to go." Police sirens could be heard in the distance

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Stay the fuck away from me. You go."

He took a step toward her, grabbing her arm, and the rose dropped to the floor. Why was she such a fool to fall for him? He was a killer, no better than Sokolov.

* * *

Wraith sat in the backseat of the car with Pim. Her hands were cuffed in front of her and he had gagged her to get her out of the theatre quietly. He touched the scratches on his neck, their sting attesting to the struggle that had ensued. She hadn't made it easy. "I'll take the gag off if you promise to be quiet."

She glared at him. His phone rang, and he looked at the screen. Peter. He answered it. "Where is she?" Peter asked, panicked. "Is she all right?"

"I have her with me. I'm taking her somewhere safe."

"I want to talk to her."

Wraith looked over at her. She had turned her back on him, but he could tell she was listening. "She can't talk right now."

"She needs to be with her family right now. Where she's loved."

He paused. She was loved; he loved her. He couldn't say as much with Gabriel and Kian up front. "Look, Peter. Where do you perform tomorrow?"

"Glasgow. The film festival is going on and with the crowds in for the gala, we were asked to perform."

"I'll have her at the theatre." He hung up. He reached behind her and undid the knot in the cloth. Removing it, he wiped her mouth.

"I'll have kidnapping charges brought against you," she said.

"No, you won't." He rubbed his arm, the wound from the knife attack aching from overuse. "By the way, where's my car?"

"I don't give a fuck where your car is."

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