Free Live and Let Love by Gina Robinson Page A

low blow. No one told Jack to man up or questioned his courage.
     If he weren’t undercover, he’d show them what a real man could do with a well-placed
     karate chop.
    A cheer rose from the crowd. The judge smiled and shrugged, looking like, What can I do?
    So that’s the way it’s going to be. The judge is just a figurehead to do Lettie’s
     bidding.
    “Sorry about that, buddy,” Shane said without the slightest hint of contrition in
     his voice. “My bad. I’m not much of a dancer.” He flashed Jack a victorious look,
     as if he was relishing the thought of delivering a lethal deathblow in the next set.
    Jack felt like a boat that was dead in the water. Dead on the dance floor—oh, the
     indignity. “One more move like that and I won’t have a leg to stand on.”
    The crowd laughed.
    “That’s the spirit. Apology accepted,” Lettie answered for Jack. “Can’t fault a man
     for not being an expert dancer, can we, ladies?”
    The ladies shrieked. Someone whistled.
    Jack decided in that instant that Con was usually a good dancer, when he had two functioning
     legs, who picked up moves quickly. It fit with Con’s metro image, so what the hell?
     Jack was running with it. Well, as well as he could with one limp leg. For now, he
     was going to have to heavily compensate with some splashy arm movements and butt-wiggling
     boogies. Until his leg woke up, his footwork was going to suck. He only hoped he was
     lithe enough to dodge the Rooster’s blows.
    Jack had to drive Kennett and get him to dance harder. The more he exercised, the
     faster the drug would flow through his system, and he’d topple off his feet to his
     defeat.
    Next to Jack, even with two good legs, Bob was struggling to keep up. The judge tapped
     Bob on the shoulder.
    “Bob, you’re out!” Lettie said into the microphone. “Get off the floor.”
    Bob looked stunned. “What? I didn’t even hit anyone like Shane did. And the music
     hasn’t even started. We’re still learning the steps. Don’t I get a second chance,
     too? I want that TV.”
    “The game began the minute you took the floor. You’re simply not as pretty as Shane,
     Bob.”
    Bob pointed at Jack. “But Con’s a hop-along casualty! He’s dragging one leg. Let me
     stay in for him.”
    Jack shrugged like a good sport, rotated his hips, doing a sensual boogie move, and
     took a step toward the edge of the dance floor. “Good idea.”
    “Not so fast, Con.” Lettie’s mic squealed with feedback and everyone jumped. “We all
     know how eager you are to get out of this. But you can’t fake your way out with the
     old bum-leg trick.
    “It’s time to take this to a vote. That was a pretty hot boogie, even one legged.
     What do you think, ladies? Is Con still in?”
    The ladies whistled. “Con’s in. Bob, you’re still out. No arguing. The crowd’s decision
     is final.”
    Bob left the floor with semi-good grace, grumbling only slightly. “That TV would have
     been awfully nice in my study.”
    Nora taught them a turn. Jack had to grab his right leg and swing it around manually.
     Which got a big laugh from the crowd. He was aiming for the Rooster’s crotch. Everyone
     knows a blow to the jewels will take a man down. Sadly, Jack’s aim was off and the
     bastard jumped out of the way. Next time, Jack would have to make an adjustment to
     his swing.
    The two other men turned the wrong direction and were tapped out of the competition.
     But Kennett, that big ox, was still on his feet. Jack should have known someone with
     Russian ancestry, with their notorious tolerance for alcohol, would have developed
     a resistance to drugs as well.
    “Looks like we just have two nice-looking young men left to compete.” Lettie winked.
     “Wonder how that happened?”
    More laughter.
    “All right, you two,” Lettie said. “Move in closer together. This looks like it’s
     going to be a head-to-head competition. We’re going to need to see you side-by-side
     to choose a