Folks this looks like a must read:
Here's an excerpt from my second book Dancer’s Delight available now
from Cerridwen Press.
Excerpt One: Dancer’s Delight by Anny Cook (Unedited)
Quiet fell over the concert hall as the orchestra moved into the first notes of the closing composition. Perched on a stool in the center of the stage, the musician known simply as Devereaux calmly waited for his cue before launching into his signature piece, Devereaux’s Dance. The guitar notes seemed to leap into the air, glittering and dancing as his fingers flew across the strings. When the last note shimmered across the hall, a deep moment of silence preceded a storm of applause. Devereaux bowed low, accepting the audience’s acclaim, then strode from the stage, his mind already occupied with the next step in his plan.
In his dressing room, he quickly stripped off his formal clothing and stepped into the small shower stall. His friend and agent, Jake was waiting when he stepped back into the dressing room naked except for a small towel wrapped around his hips. Jake waggled one eyebrow in query. “No encore?”
When he shrugged in reply, the blue and green dragon tattoo that stretched across his left shoulder and biceps rippled. Jerking on the clothing laid out—gray silk boxers, soft faded jeans, plain navy blue t-shirt and polished black cowboy boots—Devereaux nodded once. “I’ll give them one. Two minutes, Jake. After the encore, I’m out of here. No interviews. No autographs.”
Jake soberly studied his friend and client. The hard, honed body usually camouflaged beneath a specially tailored tux was obvious in the soft comfortable jeans and shirt. Devereaux’s golden hip length hair, normally tucked out of site beneath his jacket, slithered across his taut butt, confined in an elaborate French braid. “You’re really coming out of the closet, Dev and going out there like that? Your fans don’t know what a predator you really are.”
“They’ll get over it,” Dev replied shortly while he shoved his wallet into his back pocket and slid a handful of change and his keys in his front pocket. “Next week, there will be a new sensation and they’ll be saying ‘Devereaux who?’ “
Jake snorted in disgust. “Right! How many virtuoso musicians of your caliber play to sell out crowds? Violinists at your level are rare enough, but you play nearly every stringed instrument that exists! I’m not announcing your retirement. Go on this search you’ve planned. Find your damned mystery woman. When you get her out of your system, let me know and I’ll arrange another tour.” Shaking his head, he slammed out the door.
Dev surveyed the small room and pondered how anxious Jake would be to arrange another tour if he knew that it was just a cover for Dev’s day job as an assassin. With the grim black humor he’d developed over the years, he decided that he should have acquired business cards with the legend Troubleshooter for Hire. Maybe print it in blood red ink with a black rifle underscoring the title.
Once Jake was gone, Dev retrieved his personal weapons from their hiding places and swiftly distributed them about his person, before shrugging on his long black leather duster. He strapped on his chrome watch, slipped tiny gold hoops in his ear lobes and slid his passport in his inside coat pocket. As a final touch, before leaving the dressing room, he put on his dark glasses and ducked to survey himself in the mirror. Not many dressing rooms were designed for someone over six four. Grinning, he shook his head, snagged his black cowboy hat and departed.
Stunned silence rippled across the auditorium as he strode confidently to the center of the stage with a sexy loose-hipped motion, took his violin and bow in hand and with no further ado, leaped into his most recent solo composition, never before performed in public. The reviewers the next day raved about the appropriately titled, Dancer’s Delight, while avidly dissecting his changed appearance. What was not reported was the fact that Devereaux vanished when he walked off the stage after his final performance.