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Either way, along with the cops, Rafael was doing his usual patrol around the perimeter, watching for anyone with ill intentions.
As I straightened up, I caught one of the female skaters on the ice giving me a wary glance just before she jerked her gaze away. My stomach sank.
Then a jovial voice rang out, clipped by a British accent. “Hey, St. Pierre! I thought that was you.”
A blond guy nearly as burly as Jasper came loping over. He grabbed Jasper’s hand and gave it a hearty shake—I guessed they knew each other from past competitions.
“Good to see you, Andrews,” Jasper said, shifting his weight awkwardly. “You always know how to find the best places to train, huh?”
“What’s the point in skating around the world if you’re not doing it in style?” The big man laughed at his own joke and nodded to Niko and me in acknowledgment, his attention lingering on me with obvious curiosity.
To my relief, Niko interrupted any further conversation by waving over an older woman with silvery hair. “Patricia! It’s been a long time. Look, I’ve joined you on the coaching side.”
The woman skated over on the other side of the boards with a light chuckle. “I heard. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve been doing great things with your first trainees.”
Niko beamed. “They’ve given me excellent skills to work with. I learn as much from them as they do from me.”
I swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump from my throat. The other coach didn’t comment on the other things his skaters had brought to the table—like gunfire and vandalism—but I could guess what she was thinking.
I’d already felt a little out of place among the experienced competitors before. Now I couldn’t help suspecting I stuck out like a sore thumb as someone who didn’t belong. My voice stayed locked at the back of my mouth.
Jasper gave me a knowing look and grasped my hand. “We’d better get on with our practicing so we don’t put Niko to shame,” he said, and tugged me with him onto the ice.
When we found a section where no one was currently skating, I exhaled in a rush and eased closer to Jasper so I could speak under my breath. “I don’t think we should try the new part of the routine here. I don’t want anyone knowing about it earlier than they have to… and it’s not like we have enough room to really stretch ourselves anyway while other people are practicing.”
My partner nodded. “We’ll have lots of chances to work on it at the other arena without worrying about anyone seeing us take a tumble—or knowing what we’re up to. We’ll only be here for a couple of hours anyway. Let’s warm up and practice that footwork we need to speed up a bit.”
We glided around in our normal exercises and then got Niko to put on our music so we could work through the footwork sequence. As I matched the movements of my skates to Jasper’s, every beat echoing through the music, my awareness of potential stares faded away.
That didn’t mean no one was shooting any more skeptical looks my way. But as I gave myself over to the sport I loved, I found I didn’t really give a shit.
I’d already proven that I deserved to be here. Jasper and I had earned our gold medals at the US Nationals. This news story could be only a blip, and then people would be staring at us for much better reasons. The skating was all that mattered, and I still had that.
Jasper and I ran through the footwork until I barely felt my feet touch the ice and the music lived in my veins. Then we ran through several iterations of each of our lifts, every bit of practice helping ensure that we knew exactly how to stick the raised pose and the landing when it was time for the competition.
We were good at what we were doing. I could feel it. But what if it wasn’t enough?
By the time the other skaters around us started packing up, the freestyle session almost over, hunger overtook my doubts. My stomach let out a forceful gurgle as Jasper lowered me to the ice, and he paused to catch my eyes, chuckling.
“Should we go get an early lunch? It sounds like you’re going to go feral if you don’t eat something soon.”
I grinned crookedly in return. “I can make no guarantees about my temper when I’m hangry. I saw one of those conveyor-belt sushi places down the street when we arrived—want to check if it’s open yet?”
Jasper rubbed his hands together. “Conveyor belt sushi it is.” As we skated over to our bench, he cocked his head. “I guess we should pick up some takeout for Quentin too.”
The other guy had opted to stay back at the apartment and sleep in, complaining that freestyle sessions weren’t worth getting up for when he wasn’t even competing.
A softer smile tugged at my lips. “Are you actually starting to getfriendlywith him?”
Jasper elbowed me. “Friendly? Kindly tolerating, maybe.” But he was smiling too.
It warmed me inside to see the guys treating each other like family, especially the one guy who’d initially made their welcome particularly difficult. My good mood buoyed me as we filled Niko in on the plan and rounded up Rafael on our way out of the building.
We stepped out into the parking lot, my gaze swept over the city streets around us—and my feet stalled in their tracks.
On the other side of the parking lot, a man was just setting off toward us, his hands deep in the pockets of his wool coat. There was no mistaking the bright red hair sprouting from his jowly face.
It was the March Wind’s man.
