Page 112 of Wicked Lessons


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I groan. “Not you as well.”

“What? Jealous that you don’t rock bellbottoms as well as him?”

“Did you find a venue willing to host them?” I ask.

“Three said they’d be interested, yeah.” Quinn’s tone is back to business. “The Jabberwocky is the only one that takes cash deposits. I thought you might prefer that so nothing traces back to you.”

“Excellent. When can they stage the concert?”

“They’re fully booked for every Friday and Saturday night until after Christmas, and I didn’t think you would want a weekday evening.” She pauses.

“I doubt that the university would allow a mass exodus of students in the middle of the week.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But they have a matinée slot for next Sunday and the one after.”

“Hmm…” I rub my chin. “What about the venues that don’t accept cash?”

“Some have free dates but in November?” I can hear her cringing at the suggestion.

My jaw tightens, and I suck in a breath through flared nostrils. There’s no telling what will become of Mother if she stays in that man’s clutches over an extended period. No telling what he’s forcing her to do with whom.

“Out of the question.”

“I thought the same,” she replies with a sigh.

“Let’s go for this first matinée opening,” I say. “Secure the date with a deposit.”

“What if the target doesn’t take the bait?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. If he doesn’t we’re all screwed. It would mean having to abduct the Bestlasson boy myself, and I doubt that he’d be as easy to spirit away as a drunken Phoenix.

“Move quickly,” I say. “He’ll be riding the high from his recent success.”

“Alright, but there’s one more thing…”

“What?”

“Your plan to follow Crius’s men is full of holes. Don’t you think they might be looking out for a tail?”

“Do you have an alternative suggestion?”

“A tracker.”

My brows draw together. “Explain.”

“Let me find something to put it in, like a medallion or an earring. Something we know he’ll wear on stage or keep with him when he gets snatched.”

“It’s a decent plan B.” I rub my chin.

“It’s an excellent one,” she says, her voice rising with outrage.

The corners of my lips curl into a smile. “I concede to your point.”

She huffs. “You’re so—”

“Professor?” Phoenix asks from outside the room.

“Keep me updated,” I mutter into the phone.

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