Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3) by Helena Newbury Read Free Book Online Page B

patronized) and by the women (glared at, derided and always mistrusted). That was fine. That was part of Jasmine. Long fiery hair, big boobs, and a tight dress will do that.
    But this wasn’t like that. Not at all.
    The receptionist actually jerked upright when she saw me. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Is there a problem? Do we need to evacuate the building?”
    I tiny part of me actually wanted to say yes, just to see what would happen.
    “No,” I told her. And then added “ma’am,” for good measure, and asked which floor it was for Dixon’s production company. Instead of being fobbed off, she sent me straight up in the elevator.
    Upstairs, the first thing I saw was a huge banner for Foxtrot Company, the smash-hit war series Dixon had produced the year before. I could actually feel the wave of dread silence sweep across the room when I stepped out of the elevator. Every face read, is it me? Has she come for me?
    “Do you have an….” I pretended to consult my notebook, like they did on TV, “A.K. Dixon working here, ma’am?”
    The receptionist looked toward a glass-walled corner office where a dark-haired man was working. “Yes,” she squeaked, reaching for the phone. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
    I wanted the element of surprise. This would only work if he was off guard. So I marched straight over to the corner office and threw open the door. “Dixon?” I asked, making it a snarl.
    He looked up. He was only in his mid-thirties and, with his dark hair all loose and tousled and his shirt and jeans, he looked more like one of the young creatives in the main office than an industry power player. But the trophy case behind him, packed with Emmys, told me I had my man. “Yes?”
    Four big, cop-sized paces took me to his desk. “Stand up, sir.” Cops always said sir, especially when they were angry.
    He got to his feet, looking slightly nervous, now. He glanced around at the rest of the office. I didn’t turn around to look but I knew that everyone would be watching through the glass walls. “What’s this about?” he asked. His eyes narrowed. “Does security know you’re here?”
    He reached for the phone. That was one thing I couldn’t let him do. This whole thing could get out of control very quickly...if it hadn’t already.
    “ Hands where I can see them!” I yelled, one hand going to the butt of my nightstick.
    Dixon snatched his hand back from the phone and then put both hands over his head. Holy shit! This really works!
    “Mr. Dixon”—I had a feeling I was meant to say his full name, but I had no idea what the “A” stood for—”I’m arresting you on suspicion of”— argh! What am I arresting him for?! Think! Think!—” possession of narcotics.”
    “That’s ridiculous!” he said, sounding genuinely shocked.
    “Hands on the desk,” I told him, coming around to his side. He did as he was told, bending at the waist and planting his hands on the wood. I kicked his feet apart and started frisking him. “You have the right to remain silent!” I told him, snapping the words out. “You have the right to an attorney!” What now? Handcuffs! I grabbed them from their belt pouch, pulled Dixon’s hands behind him, and tried to slap the cuffs on him smoothly, like they did on TV. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, but I got it in the end.
    I let Dixon straighten up. His whole demeanor had changed. He was sweating, his wrists pulling nervously at the cuffs, his eyes searching for a way out.
    It was time.
    “Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way,” I told him. “I can take you downtown and put you in an interrogation room with my partner—”
    He gulped.
    “ Or... you can give me a part in your show.”
    The words didn’t sink in immediately. He blinked at me three times before he got it.
    “You’re not really a cop?” he asked disbelievingly.
    I dropped the aggressive cop voice. “Nope. Jasmine Kane. I’m from Fenbrook Academy. Final year. I