Relief.
“Is there anything you need? Something you’re missing or we can get you?” Bill asked. “I imagine you’re feeling overwhelmed, and that’s completely understandable.” When I didn’t have a response, he nodded toward his marshals. “You let them know if there’s anything we can do to make the next few days easier.”
His expression shifted as if a thought had just occurred to him. He dug a business card and a pen out of his open briefcase and quickly scrawled something on the back of it.
“Better yet,” he said, “you can let me know. That’s my personal number.” He set his business card on top of my WITSEC guidelines paperwork, a raised U.S. Marshals Service logo in the corner.
The thought fired in my brain and was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Hard floors.”
It was like the orchestra had abruptly stopped mid-song. Every head in the room turned to me in question.
“If it’s possible,” I asked quietly, “can the next place have space with a large, hard surface? Concrete, or hardwood, or even linoleum. It doesn’t matter that much, but it’s hard and less safe to practice on carpet.”
It was an absurd request, but Bill was polite enough not to show it. He nodded and made a note on his phone. “I’ll see what I can do.”
When the discussion was over, he motioned to Jason, hinting he wanted his marshal to follow him outside so they could talk. Was this to go over details I didn’t need to know? Either way, I felt both relief and annoying disappointment when he was gone.
The rest of the agents filed out, and it left me with little to do but start reading the paperwork about how my life was over. Every turn of a page made me increasingly bitter.
But I had no choice now.
Jason’s point that they’d come after me had been made with the bullets lodged in the side of the SUV I’d been sitting in. They had to catch Frey; that was all there was to it. They had to catch him so I could testify.
I had no control, and I couldn’t stand it. Ihatedfeeling powerless.
Later, Bill brought dinner, and these cheeseburgers were much better. We ate in Derrick’s room, and I did my best not to seem shell-shocked.
When I grabbed the discarded tomato from Jason’s burger and passed him my pickles, Bill’s curious gaze noted the exchange. His expression was puzzlement, like he found this act unsettling, but I didn’t dwell on it.
I ate quickly, avoided Jason’s gaze, and when I finished eating, I asked Derrick to escort me to my room. The plan had been to change into my pajamas and try to get some sleep, but I was so drained, I wound up nodding off on the couch with my clothes still on.
A hand shook me awake.
I bolted upright, and I couldn’t imagine anything more disorienting than waking with Jason looming over me, a strange look filling his deep eyes.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he assured me. “Grab your dance stuff.”
“What? What time is it?” I glanced around for a clock, but I was too distracted to find one once I discovered he was the only other person in the room.
So much for avoiding him.
“Ten thirty,” he said. “Which means we’ve got about thirty minutes.”
I stood and followed his request, moving to my bag and fishing out my leggings. “Thirty minutes for what?”
He had a cryptic look on his handsome face. What the heck was going on? When it was clear he wasn’t going to tell me, I went into the bathroom and changed quickly. As soon as I was done, he was waiting with my coat in one hand and my pointe shoes in the other.
I wasn’t prepared for the effect that had on me, and my pulse jumped.
Derrick stood guard outside my door, and as soon as he saw us, he ticked his head toward the stairs, like he was in on it, and I got the strange impression that whatever this was, it was off the record.
“Where are we going?” I asked when we reached the bottom of the stairs.
“That way.” Jason pointed across the street.
We hurried over the broken pavement of the parking lot, one man walking on each side of me. It was freezing in the wind and made me pull my coat tighter as we made our way toward the restaurant. It had to be where Jason had bought our lunch; I recognized the logo from the takeout container.
The marshals didn’t escort me to the front entrance. We rounded the building to where a cook stood holding a back door open.
