Page 70 of Callan

I have no idea what to say. I was doing what? Going shopping? Or having coffee with a friend?

Attending the party upstairs?

“I have some information for you…” I blabber.

He seems more concerned with something else.

“Have you been watching me? How did you know I’d be here?” he asks.

Yeah… That might work.

Thanking him inside my head for throwing me a lifeline, I gesture at the first floor.

“I was, uh… surveilling the street. And I noticed these two men. They looked suspicious. And then I saw you talking to them and realized you knew them. And then I lost sight of you. Because I was also talking to my friend…”

Oh, my.

Can this get any cringier?

I don’t seem to be able to stop myself from telling him every move I made, what I said to Kayla. What I thought. And how I felt. I keep searching for an exit from this embarrassing verbal report about… nothing.

He listens to me, more interested in the strands of hair cascading from the top of my head and the small patch of skin visible above the popped collar of my plush robe.

He slides one hand into his pocket and brings his gloved fingers to my face.

The leather is imbued with the exotic smell of his cologne, a dash of smoke, and winter notes.

A smile looms across his lips.

“Where is the information?” he mellowly asks, amused by the flutter of my lips, and I swiftly realize I didn’t bring the sheet of paper with me.

“It’s, uh…”

I gesture at the corridor behind me.

“It’s inside. I wanted to get it for you, but I locked myself out,” I lie at the last moment, surprised by my bold move.

Things make much more sense now.

Why I’m here empty-handed.

Waiting for him.

Blah, blah, blah.

Unrelated to our conversation, he flicks his eyes up as a door opens––it’s most likely the door to Carmen’s place––and a loud noise floods the hallway.

Voices travel to us, and surprisingly, he promptly nudges me inside the corridor and moves with me around the corner, seeking the protection of a cone of darkness.

A man and two women climb the stairs, speaking loudly, unsettling the silence.

A few more moments pass before they exit the building.

It’s hard not to notice his entire focus has been on them, his grip harboring tension against my face.

He shifts his eyes to me, and we stay silent for a moment.

I’m studying his face.

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