Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals #1) - Heather Long Page 0,7

disappeared behind a chilly façade. Yeah. Typical.

I stuffed my disappointment down with another French fry, then wrapped up the remains of the food. I hadn’t eaten near enough, but I didn’t want to throw up before I performed. I’d rather hold onto the burger for a little while longer.

Rising, I carried the food to the little kitchen and hid it away in the microwave. Housekeeping usually came after I went to the theatre, so hopefully, they wouldn’t throw it away. My phone buzzed as I padded toward the bedroom.

A picture of my parents flashed on the screen.

Yeah. Pass.

I never wanted to talk to them when I had a show to put on.

I stripped out of the comfier pajama shorts and tank top I’d been wearing and pulled on the clothes I could wear like armor. Hair gathered into a messy bun and boots on, I snagged my dance bag and headed back out.

Kestrel was right where I left him.

“You should take the food with you.”

“I should have left you to stand in the hall too,” I reminded him. I didn’t need him or anyone else ordering me around. I had my fill of keepers and taskmasters.

“You want your phone?”

I glanced back at it and then shrugged. “Not tonight. I won’t have time to talk to anyone, anyway. It’s our last performance, which means I’ll have to stay after for an appearance at the afterparty.”

He nodded, then said nothing as he walked me to the elevator. We were silent all the way to the parking garage. Kestrel towered over me, which was nice. It was nicer when he wasn’t so ice cold and distant. I knew better than to take anyone at face value. Fuck, I’d gotten pathetic on this trip. Looking for friendship or interest in someone whose only job was to see me from point A to point B?

The screech of tires on pavement made me wince, and I turned just in time to catch the flash of headlights before a body plowed into mine and I hit the concrete. Every drop of air whooshed out of me, my layers of bruises let loose with a shriek of their own, and my stomach rebelled.

Dammit.

I nearly threw up the burger, but I managed to keep it down.

Barely.

“What…the…fuck?”

Kestrel was already hauling me up to my feet, and I glanced from him to the empty parking garage around us and then back to him. “That asshole was probably drunk,” he snarled, and I swallowed back any response as he turned that icy gaze on me.

He ran his hands over me while I stood there, jaw clamped shut, staring at him.

“You okay?”

No. No I wasn’t. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But I limped with my first step, and I scowled. Another limp.

“Fuck,” Kestrel swore.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him. “Just a little bruise.”

The next step, I didn’t limp. Not for anything in the world.

I had danced on broken toes and flown in the silk with cracked ribs.

The show always went on.

My body could handle it.

Kestrel glared at me for a long moment as he held the door open, and I slid inside but leaned my head back and kept my expression calm. Finally, he slammed the door and moved around to the driver’s seat.

The silence in the car weighed on me, but I concentrated on doing my own physical assessment of the aches and pains. Tonight would cost me on that stage, but I had never missed a performance in my life and I wouldn’t start now.

It could have been worse. If Kestrel hadn’t acted so swiftly, I might be riding in an ambulance now. When we reached the theatre, he glanced back at me. “Stay there.”

Then he was out and stalking around to open the door for me. I met his gaze as I slid out. “Thank you. I should have said it in the garage…”

“Thank me by watching your back, Sparrow,” he told me in a gruff voice. Then he lifted his chin toward the doors. “I’ll wait here until you’re inside. Don’t leave with anyone else. Don’t even step outside until you see me. I’ll be here after the show.”

I hesitated. This was a terrible idea. But he had saved me, right? And I liked his smile earlier. “Do you want to come to the show?”

He stared at me, frowning. “What?”

“The show?” I repeated, a little stung at having to. Most people would jump at the idea of a free ticket. “Tell you what, don’t tell me. Surprise me. But I’ll leave your