leaned his head against the window of the cab, Grace was suddenly grateful for this job. No, he wasn’t happy that the Conservatory was in danger or that Artur and Tabby might be targets for the mob, but he was here, wasn’t he? He was Artur’s “protégé,” and not the sexy kind. He was the old man’s young dancer, and he was—hopefully—one of the people who could help save the dance studio, the thing besides his family that Artur loved the most.
For the first time in his life, Grace felt no urges to tweak his companion for attention, to pop off at the mouth or crack wise when the old man was trying to sleep. He remembered Josh’s words about his emotional clumsiness, and he suddenly understood.
It was like dance. He had a natural aptitude because his body responded very readily when he gave it directions, but he wouldn’t be Artur Mikkelnokov’s premier male lead if he didn’t practice, over and over, almost every move he made.
Perhaps not being a dick was like that. Perhaps if he practiced on the people who had determined to stay with him anyway, he might become adept enough at not being a pain in the ass for Hun—for the other people in their crew, who he was pretty sure only tolerated him because he was Josh Salinger’s friend.
It would be nice, he thought wistfully, if he could manage not to tweak Stirling the wrong way every time the two of them were in the same room. And it would be even nicer if Hunter looked at something besides his ass.
He shook that thought away, concentrating instead on the chatter on his coms, which sounded, he had to admit, completely unexciting.
Until he heard Hunter’s voice. “Grace! Are you listening?”
“I’m in a cab with Artur,” he whispered, and Hunter’s next try was quieter.
“I am so sorry,” he apologized. “I’d forgotten there were civilians with you. I was wondering if you had an agenda yet for the next two days. I know you couldn’t get Artur to commit.”
Grace sliced a look at Artur, but he appeared to be dozing. “I’m pretty sure the drop is at seven thirty tonight, and after that we’re going out for sushi. Tomorrow is the trip to the theater,” he said. “But I don’t know where the drop’s going to be or how I can access it.”
“Damn. Try asking later. I assume he’s sleeping?”
Grace yawned. “Yes.”
“You may have to find out when you’re both in the hotel.”
“Damn.” Grace didn’t mind stealing from strangers, but he didn’t like the idea of duping the old man, even if Artur was not supposed to ever know.
“Remember,” Hunter said softly, “you’re protecting him. You know that, right?”
Grace let out a breath. “Yeah. I know.” He glanced at Artur again, saw the old man’s breathing had evened out into a light doze. “Thanks, Hunter.”
His only response was a grunt, but Grace liked to think it was a warm grunt. He quit talking because the taxi driver was starting to look at him funny.
“Call?” the young man asked. He was cute, with a narrow, pale face and hair so blond it was almost white. Pixie-sweet fresh meat, Grace thought with a smile.
“Yeah,” Grace said, making an unconscious gesture, as if he was pulling an earbud out. His coms bud remained in place, but the gesture brought attention to the standard earbuds hanging from his neck in case Pixie-boy was watching. “Work.”
“So, what do you do?” In the rearview, Pixie-boy cut his eyes to the sleeping Artur, and Grace could almost hear the added “Or who?” in his voice.
Well, having a sugar daddy wouldn’t be the worst thing Grace had ever done, but he had his own money from his trust fund. He’d never stolen for sustenance—only for sport.
“I’m a dancer,” he said, almost surprised. He’d never been asked what he did for a living before. It only occurred to him now that he couldn’t actually make a living on what he was paid at the studio for teaching classes and performing. Many of his compatriots had day jobs. “I also work for a think tank.”
“What’s a think tank?” the driver asked.
In Grace’s ear, Josh said, “It’s a group of people who like to solve unusual problems.”
Grace grinned, comforted somehow that Josh was tuning in to his part of the conversation. Julia, Felix, and Danny actually had spent the previous weekend in Vancouver, setting up ahead of time. Josh and Stirling had probably been tapping into wire towers to