Free Shana Galen - [A Lord & Lady Spy Novella] by The Spy Wore Blue Page B

quite obvious that though he might also love her, he did not want her. Perhaps it was the memory of her stupidity with Alexi. Perhaps he had decided a relationship with her was doomed from the start. Or perhaps, as she suspected, his career as an operative would always come first.
    In which case, he was right to keep his distance. It would never work between them. Helena was a generous person—loving, caring, and loyal. But she knew herself and her faults. Her biggest fault was her need for attention. It was why she’d tormented her younger sister and generally behaved in a beastly fashion as a child. It was why she’d pursued a career on the stage. It was why she’d married a man who had given her all his attention when she tutored him on the intricacies of stage makeup and dress.
    But Blue’s attention had been fickle, and though she appreciated his careful watch over her now, she knew when this incident with Reaper was over, Blue would leave to watch over someone else.
    And then, one day in the middle of singing “ Or sai chi l’onore ,” a rope snapped, and a heavy sandbag from the fly system slammed down on the stage beside her. It would have landed on top of her, if she had been paying more attention to work and less attention to her handsome husband playing the pianoforte. She’d moved left instead of right, and the mistake had saved her.
    For a moment after the sandbag block fell, all was silent. Damiano, who was on stage with her, stared slack-jawed. Those moving about in the theater or behind the stage stopped what they were doing. Blue played the wrong chord, and the dissonant sound echoed through the theater.
    And then pandemonium erupted, and the next thing she knew, she was in Damiano’s arms, being ferried back to her dressing room. Over Damiano’s shoulder, as she was carried away, she could see Blue looking at the fly loft then at the heavy counterweight, and she knew exactly what he was thinking.
    That was no accident. Reaper was back.
    ***
    Blue willed his heart to stop pounding. She had almost been killed, almost crushed under the weight of the sandbag. She wouldn’t have survived. The heavy bag’s impact left a small crater in the stage floor. More than anything, Blue wanted to go after Helena, tear her from the arms of that horse’s ass, and hold her tightly, reassure himself she was uninjured.
    But she was safe now, surrounded as she was by people on every side. Blue looked up, wondered if Reaper was watching him, waiting for a chance to crush him. The assassin must be fuming at missing Helena. Blue could use that to draw the man out.
    But first he needed the stage to himself.
    It took little more than a whispered suggestion to Pacca, and the theater’s proprietor sent everyone home for the rest of the evening. The man was shaken, and Blue could not help but wonder if he’d yet realized Foncé was behind this. If Pacca lost his star soprano, he was doomed. Helena was not easily replaced.
    Blue watched from the shadows as the company departed for the night. When the theater was quiet, he took a sconce of candles, set the gold and ormolu candelabra in the center of the stage, and held his arms out in invitation. “How does it feel to fail?” he asked the dark theater. “How does it feel to know Foncé is going to carve you like a guinea hen when he learns of this fiasco? You call yourself an assassin, Reaper? You can’t even kill a woman standing in the middle of a stage.”
    Blue paused, waited and listened. He heard nothing, not a creak, not a whisper. Still, he had a sense Reaper was here. He would have given anything to have Saint beside him at this moment. Her instincts were unfailing. His were not quite so attuned. He might be wrong. He might be talking to himself.
    “I’m going to give you another chance, Reaper. It’s me you want. So…” He removed his coat, tossed it aside, and then turned in a slow circle. “As you see, I am unarmed. Come for me.”
    Blue braced himself