“In case you’re wondering why I parked here, it’s because there are no cameras. I’ve done my research, and it was thorough. Goodnight, Cassie. Be back soon,” he trilled before pain exploded in her head again and darkness consumed her.
#
Colin hustled back inside and found the cumbersome brace where he’d left it. The contraption was a colossal pain in the ass, but he had to wear it so everyone would believe he’d truly hurt his knee. Tilda had been telling the truth. It wasn’t his knee. It was his damn spine.
His back had been bothering him for a while, a discomforting ache that nagged and irritated. But after attempting to hoist Tilda in the air for a move, he’d thought someone shoved a rusty machete in his back and twisted, the pain was so intense. He’d screamed and dropped her to the floor. She cried out and landed with a thud, but he didn’t care. His entire back was on fire. He didn’t remember the trip to the hospital or the x-rays that followed. He’d been lying in a bed, waiting for the doctor to tell him what was wrong, when Tilda crept inside, looking like a sad puppy.
“My side is bruised where you dropped me,” she pouted.
“Yeah, well, if you’d lay off the cheeseburgers, maybe I wouldn’t have a problem lifting you.”
She gasped in outrage just as the door opened and the doctor strolled inside. He was mid-fifties with a ring of gray hair circling a bald head, black-framed glasses perched on his nose. He eyed Tilda over the frames. “Is she family?”
She wasn’t, not even close, but Colin wanted her to hear the doctor tell him that he needed to quit lifting someone so heavy. Not that Tilda was fat, but she weighed a good twenty pounds more than Cassidy. “Yes, she is.”
Tilda looked surprised at his answer, especially since he’d all but called her a porker a few seconds earlier.
“The x-rays revealed a degenerative disk in your spine. It’s to the point where you need surgery, but you won’t be able to dance again.”
Tilda gasped, while Colin stared at the doctor in stunned silence. Never dance again? “So then I don’t have the surgery. I’ll just learn to live with the pain.” Anything to keep dancing.
The doctor removed his glasses and slid them into his pocket. He regarded Colin with serious brown eyes. “I wouldn’t recommend it. One wrong move, even from walking down the street, could do irreparable damage.”
“Irreparable, how?”
“Paralysis.”
Tilda was weeping silently, but Colin was numb. “You’re telling me I can’t dance ever again, with or without the surgery?”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor replied.
Once he left, Colin ordered Tilda away. Lying in the hospital bed looking at the end of his lifelong dream, an overwhelming rage filled him. It was all Cassidy Swain’s fault.
Dancing was the one thing he’d ever wanted to do, for as far back as he could remember. He lived it, breathed it. It had been his dream to star on Show Us You Can Dance. His mistake was asking Cassidy to come along to be his partner for the audition. She decided to try out at the last minute and he’d actually been overjoyed when they both made the select group invited to Los Angeles.
They’d been giddy with excitement and future possibilities. They practiced for hours leading up to the elimination week. He thought he was as prepared as he could be. He and Cassidy made an unbeatable team. They’d won dozens of championships and they were recognized as one of the power couples in the competition world. They boasted a large social media following—again, something that he was responsible for—and they had the world by its tail.
As much as he loved the competition, he’d always wanted to be on television. When the call came out for the show, he thought it was a sign. And he’d killed his part of the audition. Cassidy had performed her role and the judges raved about them, especially Kerry Burk, a renowned ballroom expert. He’d been a little pissed when the judges said that Cassidy was the more talented of the two of them. He figured since there were two male judges, they were just watching her boobs bounce around the stage. Maybe Kerry was a lesbo, and that’s why she fawned all over Cassidy. Whatever. He was the force behind the duo. He’d forgiven the judges when they gave them both a pass to the elimination week.
The first day had been relatively easy and he figured he’d coast through the days ahead. They were taught routines by choreographers in different styles. Though he’d only taken ballroom classes, whereas Cassidy had taken everything from ballet to gymnastics, he figured he was good enough to get through the other disciplines. The first routine had been a cha-cha and of course, he’d nailed it. Whoever was in charge of the show wouldn’t let him partner with Cassidy, so he’d gotten stuck with a short girl with long black pigtails who specialized in popping and locking. What the hell? How was that even considered dancing? He’d had to carry her through the routine, though she didn’t thank him at all. When they were both green-lighted to the next day, he’d been shocked. What did the judges see in her that he didn’t?
He didn’t dwell on it and instead, watched the other groups perform the routine. When it was Cassidy’s turn, she’d been partnered with some weird dude who called himself the Dislocater. Good grief. Cassidy performed well and surprise, surprise, Disco managed to not completely embarrass himself.
Eighty-two people remained after the first day, eighteen having been cut from the original one hundred. Most of the remaining competitors headed to the pool in the hotel where they were staying and celebrated with a blow-out party. Colin was having the time of his life, drinking and flirting with other dancers. He even got a few phone numbers. He noticed Cassidy was missing, but he was having too much fun to care.
He woke up the next morning with the mother of all headaches. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, he usually binged, as apparently he had last night. He dragged himself to the studio and saw Cassidy stretching by the wall. “What happened to you yesterday?”
Her brows lifted as she used the forearm of one arm to push against the other and stretch her shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“We all partied at the pool. I didn’t see you there.”
“Oh, no, I stayed in my room and went to bed early.”
Colin wanted to curse at her. She looked fresh and well-rested, while he looked like something his neighbor’s rottweiler drug home to munch on.
“Line up, dancers,” a voice called out.
He groaned. Not only was the voice loud and grating, but he hadn’t had time to warm up. He dropped his gear and plodded into a spot in the last row. Cassidy was in the front, brown-nosing, he thought. The routine today was Broadway, not a huge jump from ballroom. The moves were more exaggerated, as were the facial expressions, but nothing he couldn’t handle.
His partner this time was a thin, African-American girl who stood a good four inches over his five-ten frame. He didn’t like for any woman to be taller than him and he wanted to demand a different partner, but the music started and he had to quickly fall in line to learn the moves.
It’d ended up being more difficult than he imagined, but still, he’d done an outstanding job, if he did say so himself. He and the Amazon were both moved on to the next day. Cassidy and her partner passed as well.
That evening, he decided to take a page from Cassidy’s book. While the other dancers headed off to party, he retreated to his room and practically face-planted into the bed. He didn’t even wake when his roommate came home. The next day, he felt refreshed and ready to tackle whatever routine they threw at him. Jazz, he learned when he arrived at the studio. Not something that he’d practiced, but still, he wasn’t worried. His partner this time was a short red-head who specialized in the discipline. They hit it off and she helped him through the routine.
Cassidy had gone first this time and he was a little pissed that she looked like it was her own discipline. Her moves were perfect and the judges gushed over her. Well, wait until they got a load of him. He and Cindy, his partner, started off and his mind blanked. He managed to keep up, but barely. Th
e judges were super-critical of him, while praising Cindy. They told him he’d made it to the next day, even though they were disappointed in his performance.
“Don’t worry about what they said,” Cindy whispered as they jogged off the stage. “Are you going to the pool party?”
He’d gone the first night and done great. He hadn’t attended last night and sucked. Maybe the alcohol was good for him. “Absolutely.”
“Great! I’ll see you there!”
“Yes, you will,” he murmured as she skipped away. He showered, changed and headed for an evening of debauchery with the lovely red-headed Cindy. But when he arrived, she was fawning all over someone else. Though his pride was wounded, he’d found others to party with and it was the early morning before he stumbled back to his room.
His alarm went off much too soon and it was all he could do to roll out of bed. There were fifty-four competitors left and only two days of cuts before the final dancers were announced.
He was dismayed to learn that the routine today was hip hop. The loud beat of the music pounded in his skull and his feet didn’t want to work at all. His partner was a classically trained ballerina, so he figured he’d do better than her. Wrong. She nailed the moves, while he felt like the whitest white boy on the planet. The judges were brutal, but he didn’t let them see how much their words flayed him.
“I’m sorry, Colin, you won’t be moving on to the next round.”
“What?” He stared at them in shock. Surely they didn’t just cut him.
“I’m sorry,” his partner, Wendy, Mindy, something said. She’d made it to the next round. He shuffled off the stage in a daze. Cameras were on him, and the hostess, Kitty, asked him how he felt. How the hell did she think he felt? His dreams had just crashed and burned around him. He had to find his bags and vacate his room. They wouldn’t even let him stay the last two days. His return ticket wasn’t until the end of the week, so he’d had to shell out the cash for a cheap chain motel down the road.
His phone beeped a text. It was from Cassidy. I’m so sorry, Col.
Yeah, he was, too. He typed a quick reply. Did you get cut, too? He prayed she answered yes. He needed someone to share his grief.
It took a minute before she responded. No.
Dammit. Good luck.
And the rest, as they say, was history. She’d not only made it to the final day, but she’d been chosen as one of the dancers to be featured on the live show. Each week, she made the cut, with never a bad word said about her. Then she won. Won! He should be the one standing on the stage, waving to the masses, being offered prime gigs, interviewed on talk shows and by late night hosts, having his face featured on magazines and billboards.
He’d tried to be happy for her, he really did. Cassidy wasn’t one to brag or laud her success over others. He figured they’d go back on the circuit and all would be forgotten. Then the host announced that the producers of Dancing With the Celebrities wanted her on the show. That blow might’ve been the hardest to swallow.
He knew she’d accept. Who wouldn’t? It was the chance of a lifetime. He’d gone home, licked his wounds and when the grief was a little easier to bear, he’d found Tilda and started competing again.
Then his own damn back betrayed him and he snapped. It was time to make the person responsible for all his misery pay. Cassidy Swain.
He hobbled inside and headed for the stage. People were running around, getting ready for the next performance. If it was Cassidy, they were in for a long wait. He chuckled to himself. Then he spotted his quarry.
“Mason.”
The big man’s head spun around and he stood, walking over to shake his hand. “Colin? I didn’t know you were back.”
“I just got here and ran into Cassidy” Ran into, kidnapped, same diff. “She asked me to come find you. She’s not feeling well.”
“Where is Cass?”
Colin’s mouth puckered. He didn’t like the way Mason said her name, like she was his or something. “We were talking outside and her stomach started cramping. I put her in the back seat of my car and then came to find you.”
Mason was already striding out the door. “Take me to her.”
Colin grabbed the crow bar he’d swiped from his trunk. He’d placed it inside the door for easy access. He hobbled after Mason, aggravated that the man was getting too far ahead. Oh, he could’ve kept up if he wanted to, but he had a part to play. Mason turned and when he realized how far behind Colin lagged, he waited for him, albeit impatiently if the bouncing on his feet was any indication. Colin slowed down just to piss him off.
When they neared his car, he glanced around, glad to see that it was deserted. Everyone was inside, waiting for Cassidy’s next dance, probably.
“She’s in here.” He punched the button to unlock the door to his car.
#
Mason’s heart was pounding. Cassidy wasn’t feeling well. He needed to get to her as quickly as possible. He should’ve stuck to her side, even if following her to wardrobe was a bit stalkerish. Not that he hadn’t seen or licked or kissed every inch of her luscious body many times.
When he realized Colin wasn’t with him, he turned to see the man hobbling after him. He should’ve waited but he had an overwhelming urge to get to Cassidy. A sense of foreboding nagged at him, even before Colin appeared. She was hurting. He could feel it in his bones.
Colin caught up to him and he slowed his steps so he didn’t leave the other man in the dust again.
“She’s in here,” Colin said as he pushed a button on his key fob. He opened the door and Mason stepped forward.
A blinding pain slammed into his head and his last conscious thought was that it was more painful than the concussion he suffered in the bomb blast weeks ago. In fact, he thought his skull might be crushed.
Chapter 29
Mason woke to a sharp, throbbing pain in his head. He was a little relieved to discover it was still attached to his neck, but for the love of all things holy, it hurt like hell. Before he opened his eyes, he took stock of his body. He was lying on his back with his hands bound in front of him with what felt like zip ties. His feet were bound, too, and he was crammed in a car that was way too small for his large frame, so he was twisted like a pretzel. His knees were touching his chest. A foul-smelling blanket covered him and the air was thick.
Except for the excruciating pain in his head, he seemed to be okay. He was in a moving vehicle, as indicated by the way his body lurched when the tires hit a pothole. He had no way to brace himself and he was flung against the back of the seat.
Then he heard the moaning. His eyes snapped open. It was a feminine sound and all his protective instincts fired. With the blanket covering him, he couldn’t tell if it was still light outside, so he had no idea how long he’d been out. The next bump sent him airborne and he twisted to land on his side. He repositioned himself and noticed the slight frame encased in shimmering gold on the floorboard. Cassidy! His heart hammered in his head. Was she hurt? He reached his bound hands towards her.
“Cass?” He whispered.
Her head snapped up. He saw the duct tape covering her mouth. She couldn’t talk, but she was alive, and that was all that mattered. He would keep her safe, if it was his last mission on earth.
The car came to a grinding halt, and he pitched forward, falling on top of her. He did his best to keep from crushing her, but he heard her tortured groan. He carried quite a bit of bulk.
“Cass, honey, are you okay?” He eased back to the seat.
Her head tipped slowly.
“I’ll keep you safe. I promise you that. I’ll give my life for you.”
She jerked her head from side to side, obviously not happy with his comment, but he didn’t care. He would give up his life for her. He’d never felt that way with Abby. He thought himself in love once, but those feelings were nothing compared to what he felt for Cassidy Swain.
Reaching out with his bound hands, he caught the edge of the tape and gently peeled it from h
er face. She licked her lips and mouthed, “Thank you.”
The door jerked open and the ties were snipped from Cassidy’s feet and then his. He tried to kick out, but Colin had anticipated his move and stepped aside. He ripped the blanket away and barked, “Get out.”
Mason scooted forward, making sure to keep his body between Cassidy and her demented former partner. His head was pounding, but he ignored the pain to help her out as best he could with bound hands. Once they were outside, Cassidy swayed. He noted the darkening bruise on her temple and the one on her cheek and he vowed to make the bastard pay.
Colin jabbed Mason with his gun. “Get moving.”
Mason glanced down at Colin’s unbound knee. He was moving along just fine now. That explained how he climbed the rafters to cut the cables holding the lighting in place—there had never been an injury. Clever. Twisted.
Mason helped Cassidy navigate the uneven terrain that led to cliffs overlooking the ocean. The waves surged and crashed in the background, sounding both soothing and ominous.
“I’m guessing your knee was never injured.”
“Good detective work,” Colin snarked. “I do, however, have a dangerous condition in my spine. That’s what forced me to retire. It’s all Cassidy’s fault.”
“How is it her fault?”
Colin dug the gun into his back. “It just is. Now, move.”
They made their way to the edge of the cliff. When there was nowhere else to go, they turned to face Colin. He wore a smug grin, the gun pointed directly at Cassidy. Mason needed to draw his focus so he aimed at him, and he needed to keep him talking. “You killed Marcus.”
Colin nodded slowly. “I did.”
“Why?”
“I thought Cassidy would be blamed, but oh no, the golden girl gets away with murder.”
“She didn’t murder Marcus,” Mason pointed out. “You did.”
Colin’s face reddened. “She should have been investigated!” he yelled. “But no, she just walks away. I had it all planned out, texting Marcus from her phone. But did the stupid police consider her a suspect? No!”
Last Dance (COBRA Securities Book 14) Page 23
