Fly With Fire (18 page)

His head jerked up. Mo stood
on the platform looking down at him. Misha was flipping off the net. “Hey,
Detective, you look like your daydreaming down there.”

“Just wondering if you’re
just going to stay up there ‘til the show starts. Me, I’m hungry. I’m not
getting paid to starve so you can play footsie with your devil of a husband.”

“Just trying to make you
jealous,” she teased. “You must be bored out of your mind, Zack. Come up here and
check things out from a different perspective. I promise you’ll be wanting in
on the act.”

“I tend to like my feet on
the ground,” Zack shouted up at her. “I’ll leave the flying to you.”

“I didn’t know you were so
soft. I would think a tough guy like you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.” Mo
grabbed a trapeze, swung out and flipped herself into a sitting position. “I
could stay up here all night. Come on Zack. Just up on the platform.”

“Only if you promise to come
down in time to relax a while before the show.” He headed to the ladder not
waiting for the promise. She’d be too revved up to relax and would barely eat.
The narrow ladder was a little awkward being rope and hard on the hands. It
didn’t bother Mo’s hands for she generally climbed up the silk for the added
workout, as if she needed it. It was startling how casually these people could
just do something like that.  Plus she wore thin leather gloves for
practice and rehearsal. They covered only half her fingers and wore out within
days. It was a look Zack tried not to think of for fear of distraction.

She had landed back onto the
lower platform with a light thud to meet him. He stepped onto the platform and
looked all around. He was forty feet in the air. He wasn’t afraid of heights
but the platform did suddenly seem less stable than it appeared from the floor
of the coliseum. He took in the view. “It is a different perspective. Your
right, thanks a lot, now about dinner…”

Mo took a tandem trapeze from
its berth. “Now, Detective, just a little swing.”

“Oh, no! No way. If you think
I’m getting on that…”

“Come on, Detective Burnham,
just a little swing. You played on swings as a kid; this is almost the same
thing.” She pulled her lips into a coaxing grin, raising her eyebrows. He felt
that clutch in his chest. The same one that had become so frequent he should
have been used to it by now.

“I never played on a swing
forty feet up. I did fall on my head from ten feet up off of monkey bars when I
was eight. I’ve spent my life since then trying to avoid another concussion.”

“So that explains a few
things.” She laughed. “Take off your jacket. Here,” she reached up and loosened
his tie,” get rid of this.”

“If I’d known you were going
to undress me I would’a tried this sooner.” Zack teased as she pointed at his shoes.

“Take those off. Glad to see
you’ve gotten your sense of humor back. Socks off. If you fall just kick your
legs out so your ass hits the net. You’re a big, strong guy. All you have to do
is hang on.” She positioned herself in front of one half of the tandem.
Offering him the other, she took his hand and placed it on the bar. Zack
swallowed at the touch of her hand. He looked down at the net to avoid her
eyes. His heart beat a little too fast. She placed her other hand on the bar.

“We’re just going to swing
back and forth and land on the other platform. Don’t try to make the platform
until I say. Give yourself a little thrust off with me. It doesn’t have to be
hard. When we get to the platform, grab the rail if you start to lose your
balance. If you can’t make the platform I’ll pull you in.”

“This is crazy, I can’t do
this.” Zack had both hands on the bar. His face was flushed with the excitement
of the risk and being so close to Mo in her territory. He looked down and
wondered at her ability to spend so much time hurling herself through the air.
He looked at her. Her small full lips were formed in a daring little smile. Her
eyes teased him.

“You can do it. I bet you can
do anything you set your mind to.  Hold on. Now.” He held tight and pushed
off swinging beside her. He felt the tension on his strong arms. They swung
forward toward the other platform. Zack feared he couldn’t make the platform
but with some awkwardness managed to land. “See, simple. I knew you could do
it. Now that you’ve shown you can land, once more.”

They pushed off again. Zack
copied her movements with his quick eye and they swung smoothly back and forth
a few times. Then Mo thrust up a leg and caught it on the bar. Before he knew
it he had done the same. “Glad I got into a stretching routine,” he chuckled
nervously.

“Now the other leg.” Before
the words were out of her mouth her other knee was over the bar and she hung
suspended, her long braid hanging down.

Zack had a little trouble
with the other leg due to his trousers. And it had been a long time since those
monkey bars. But he managed and hung upside down beside Mo. They looked at each
other and laughed. “I’ve always wondered what you think about up here. Now I
know. Surviving!”

Mo laughed. “I think about
the show. I think about my laundry. I think about pizza. Same kind of stuff
everyone else thinks about. Just think about it up in the air. It’s a job. I
love it, it’s a wonderful job, but I’m not up here solving the riddle of the
universe. Mostly I focus on what I’m doing. What my by body is capable of and
how to make it better.” Zack finally let go with his hands and hung entirely by
his knees. “Good. Relax. It doesn’t really take that much strength to move
yourself. Just a little…” she gave a subtle jerk of her body. He waited until
they reversed and timed his thrust with hers. “Just hang, Zack. It’s relaxing.”
She ran a hand down his arm as if to calm him. Her touched seemed to seep into
his skin and fill his bloodstream. He suddenly needed but could not find a deep
breath. He looked at her. She was studying him. He felt as vulnerable as he
ever had been. Not to the height, but to the sensation that seized him at her
touch.

“. I don’t think I could just
hang up here and wax philosophical myself.” He observed her perfectly toned
body. Hard and soft. Her skin so smooth as it clung tightly to the carved
muscles beneath. Her skin was as luminous as her dark eyes were deep pools of
emotion. They looked at each other and smiled a little shyly. Zack cleared his
throat. Mo fixated on the bar.

“How are your knees?” she
asked.

“Okay. But the bloods rushing
to my head. I don’t know how you can concentrate like this.”

“You get used to it like
anything else. Hands on the bar. Good.” In one smooth move he’d followed her
motion and hung by his arms again. “Now a little more thrust to land and …”
They were on the platform. Zack caught the rail. For a moment he felt the wind
had gone out of him. But he straightened when he felt her hand on his shoulder.
He laughed and looked into her eyes. Her eyes smiled back into his as they
stood a moment. “Different perspective, huh?” Zack’s heart beat hard. He didn’t
mention that he hadn’t noticed anything but her. Or that he could have flown
with her all night.

Mo wished she could soak in a
tub for a long time. It saved time to get ready in the dressing room but there
were no bath tubs. Her shoulder was a little tight and the massage from Crystal
McCleary had given some relief but she still felt like laying in a warm bath
for hours. The show had gone well. Now she had to get herself moving for the
late night fete Roddy and Luciana were throwing for the Whitneys. She turned
off the water and stepped out of the shower.

The dressing room was almost deserted.
She sat at her dressing table and slathered cream on her face. She had been
offered her own private dressing room upon becoming the star of La Cirque du
Celestial but it had seemed too prima donna for her taste. Besides she liked
the busy bustle before a show. She liked the camaraderie with the women even
with the occasional spats and fits of jealousy. She knew most of the women
envied her situation, but generally it was a friendly environment. She herself
had envied Luciana at one time. She hoped she wouldn’t try to hang on as long
as Luciana had. To the detriment of the show. She hoped she would be able to
accept and get on with her life when the time came. She was twenty six. She
might have ten years, with luck. Without major injuries.

She looked around at all the
flowers she’d been sent. And the usual bouquet Misha had given her, picked up
from the arena floor. She wondered for a moment that he didn’t come down to see
Linc. They hadn’t been close but seemed to like each other. She looked at the
clock and shrugged. She reached for her mineral foundation. Best stop dawdling
she thought as the last of the other performers went out the door.

Zack waited outside the
dressing room and figured everyone was out but Mo.  He leaned against the
wall across from her dressing room door and glanced at his watch. He knew she
might be longer than usual because she had asked for Crystal McCleary
complaining her shoulder felt tight. The masseuse had come and gone giving Zack
a come hither look and touching his hand ever so lightly as she said good
night. Fortunately Mo was generally pretty quick about putting herself
together. Not so much a drugstore lady he thought. He liked her basic, unfussy
look. Especially when contrasted with the extreme make up of the show. Not that
that wasn’t cause for intrigue! Especially the way the costumes fit.

He was lost in his thoughts
on that topic when he heard a clang down the hall. He knew the prop crews were
making adjustments and getting set up for tomorrow’s practice and rehearsal. He
heard the whirr of vacuum cleaners and waxers. But the clang had come from the
opposite direction. Down the corridor that led to the rear exit. He had already
cleared the area and Lourdes Garcia had also done a sweep. He straightened at
another clang and moved toward the corridor. His hair bristled on his neck. He
turned into the low lit corridor and looked around. Suddenly he saw a shadow
dashing up on a catwalk that serviced electrical closets. “Hey! Who’s up
there?” He thought he heard a quick intake of breathe from the catwalk. “Stop
screwing around and come down here right now.” He pulled out his gun and moved
toward the ladder to the catwalk looking up into the dark shadows.

Mo gave herself one last
glance. Shit, the time! Good enough in the dark blue dress and the scarf she’d
bought at Filene’s Basement. Okay, earrings. It was the Whitneys after all. She
looked through the top drawer of her dressing table swearing she’d thrown some
pearl drops in there at some point. Coming up empty she looked over at the
table Deb and Ling had shared. She hoped Deb had left something she could
borrow. They were all pretty free with borrowing each other’s stuff. She rifled
around in the drawer with no luck. Oh well. She hoped the Whitneys weren’t
counting on being impressed. She stopped and thought about the times she and
Ling had chatted and laughed as they prepared for a show or undressed and
unpainted after one. She thought about the last night and the hair dryer. Ling
organizing hair dryer use making the star of the show wait her turn. Wild,
exuberant Ling. Thoughtful, studious Ling. She placed her hand on the dressing
table and thought of her friend. All Ling’s belongings were gone now. Deb had
managed to clutter it up on her own. She realized she may have not reached out
to Deb as she might have. They weren’t unfriendly but had never become friends
like she and Ling had.

She told herself she’d try to
get to know Deb a little better. She was a fellow aerialist after all. But she
was often peevish and Mo suspected a little jealous of her. Maybe she should
try to break through that instead of being put off. She remembered how she’d
been with Linc earlier that day. Was it possible she’d had a little bit of a
crush on the tumbler? Maybe she had been hurting in his absence in a way Mo
never suspected. Well, maybe she was wrong. I guess I better get going. She
grabbed her bag and opened the door.

Zack heard the shriek as he
ascended the ladder to the catwalk. His guts did a flip and he leaped cursing
as his knee jammed into the concrete floor. He ran toward the dressing rooms
gun drawn. He flipped off the safety. The hall was empty but he heard yelling
in the women’s dressing room. “Mo!”

“Zack!” He heard her as he
put his hand on the knob twisting as if to snap it off when it proved locked.
He pounded his fist against the door, then rammed his shoulder to it when he
heard her cry his name again. He took a step back and with a sharp blow with
his foot knocked the door open. He jumped on the back of the demon that had Mo
pinned against Deb’s dressing table, taking it down to the floor where it
cursed in French.

 “I’m pressing charges,
Roddy. How can I possibly work with that idiot?” Mo glanced toward the door,
“He assaulted me Roddy, practically rape…” Their heads turned toward the
drunken yell from the hall.

“I would never hurt you. I
show you how much I care, that’s all. You turn me away. Now you find a way to
get rid of me. Once and for all!” Two officers tried to keep Claude calm and
get him to answer questions. Zack stood and looked at Mo and Roddy. Then turned
his eyes to the Hades mask one of the cops held in the hallway.

Son of a bitch, he thought
and rubbed the scraped knuckles that had hit the floor beneath the Frenchman.
“The guy’s really drunk.” He stopped at the glare Mo turned on him. “How’d he
get that drunk that fast? He’s on something. Hey officer, what he’d say he was
drinking?” Zack addressed one of the cops who were almost holding Claude
up.”