So yeah, he tore his gaze and his attention off her song and onto the shadowy crowd.
Sorros,where are you?
He’d already alerted the security team to the threat, but they had a crowd to control too.
Please let him be wrong.
Still, he couldn’t see anything from here, and his gut kept pinging, so he moved into the backstage darkness and spotted the security guard standing by the exit sign. He limped over, read the man’s name badge. “Gil, I’m going to go around to the front, assess the crowd from the floor. Don’t let anyone come through this door, except me.”
The security guard, a man in his mid-forties, with a little cheese-and-chips paunch on him, nodded and held open the door for Dawson.
He headed outside into the chilly night and toward the front of the building. Stars shone from the crisp night, winking downat him, the air redolent with the scents of the city. For many years, he worked night shift. Learned to see in the dark, sense danger in the shadows.
His gut said they were here.
He greeted the security at the door, then slipped inside and worked his way into the crowd. Standing room only, every ticket had sold out, and the audience stood shoulder to shoulder, men with women leaning against each other, some holding drinks. He sidled up to the bar and glanced at the balcony, but darkness shrouded the crowd.
Hear my name, through the storm’s wild claim,
Feel my soul in the fresh snow’s tame.
As the world turns white, I escape the night,
Hear my voice, oh hear my voice, in the morning light.
He turned, his gaze on Keely. She sparkled under the spotlight, her boot hooked onto one rung of her stool, her blond hair down and curly as she bent over her guitar, singing with her eyes closed. She’d open them and catch on a fan and flash a smile that could grab a heart.
Focus,Daws.
Sitting in the darkness, he could make out more of the crowd, and now he simply began to move through it, watching faces, looking for anyone not mesmerized. He spotted River sitting on a stool, Griffin behind her, his hands clasped around her waist, legs braced.
Griffin glanced over at him, lifted a chin.
“You’re welcome backanytime,Daws. Consider yourself an honorary artist.”
He didn’t hate the idea of building a life in the quiet of the Alaskan forest.
Focus.
Dawson worked his way to the front, near the side, stood at the edge of the crowd, looking back. Maybe he’d overreacted.
Her voice changed beat, took on a breathlessness as she reached the bridge.
Could it be that you see the truths I hide?
In the snow’s pure blanket, where my deepest dreams reside?
A look, a touch in the frosty air,
Reveals the me I’ve hidden, now laid bare.
He turned and looked at her. That was it, wasn’t it? She saw him, despite the darkness that surrounded him, she saw through him to the person he wanted to be.
And he saw her.
Movement from the wings, and he stilled. Not Axel and Flynn—they sat on the opposite side.
Could be Gil, the security guard. He kept his eyes on the wings, even as she finished her song.
