Page 112 of Silent Comrade
She concentrated on the solid ground beneathher feet for several seconds, trying anything to stay calm.
“Heard you needed an extra model.” The warmvoice slid down her spine. How had he snuck up behind her?
Spinning around, she sucked in a lungful ofair. Red wore the collection’s slim-cut canvas pants thatemphasized his muscular legs but still hid at least three guns orknives, black loafers that gleamed, and a dark-green jacket hintingat the tank top beneath—also concealinganother gun. His short hair had been somehow gelled into a handsomefade with a bit of volume on the top. A bit of irregular skinhinted at the tiny neck microphone each of the men wore,camouflaged with special effects makeup and rubberizedskin-mimicking material. Clean-shaven, with broad shoulders, theguy looked good enough to nibble on. She inhaled the freshaftershave and unique pine scent he had.
“Hey,” she managed, ignoring Gonzo andRodeo’s twin brow-raised expressions.
“Hey yourself.” He propped a lean hipagainst a nearby chair. “Reporting for duty.”
“You hate this stuff.”
“It’s important to you, Britt. So I’mhere.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Red wanted nothing to do with this wholescene. Strike that. He wanted nothing to do with the show. Hewanted everything to do with Britt, but had no right to even askher out on a coffee date, much less consider anything thatresembled a relationship or, God help him, a future. He’d screwedwith her life enough. Some damage could not be repaired. The soonerhe left her in peace, the better off she’d be.
That said, no way would he abandon her atthe eleventh hour of her dream coming true. Her future careerhinged on success tonight. Damned if he would sabotage it bydropping out. Her life depended on his team’s success.
Red wanted to remain close, which fired uphis virally driven protective instincts. But he’d held off takingthe antidote today. Then he had to stay away, so that his need tosafeguard her didn’t burn through his tenuous control before theshow. Already, her presence in this crowd of people stoked hisprotectiveness.
God, she was cute, in her metallic bootiesthat highlighted lean legs which were only partially concealed by astructured canvas skirt similar to the pants and skirts her modelswore. That forest-green tank top with crystal beads hugged her inall the right places and tempted him to lick the exposed skin.
Tachi had styled all the ladies’ hair, Brittincluded, in matching poufy styles, finishing their looks withpolished makeup that featured dark eyeliner and shadow. Britt wasthe perfect edgy pixie. Sexiness in a fierce, tiny package thatcould knock him over with a mere glance.
When the lights dimmed, he gave her upperarm a quick squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. We’reprofessionals.”
Her wavering smile didn’t reassure him.Whether she was scared because of the fashion show or nervous aboutLequire, he couldn’t tell. Patting the compact Sig hidden in aspecial pocket inside his pants waistline, he clamped his jaw shut.He would keep her safe.
A screen on a wall showed images from themain stage. Music pulsed in the background. All the seats in theSCAD event venue were full. People lined both sides of the catwalkand were seated several rows deep. Audience members held cellphones. Stumpy had his work cut out for him, snagging and obscuringimages of the team before people posted them online. Word was,Stumpy had control of the nearby cell towers and school Wi-Fi soany data being sent would fail. From there, he’d backtrack into theoriginating phone and swap out faces before the person hit “send”again. If all else failed, he could temporarily jam alltransmissions. Impressive.
Red watched on the monitor while ProfessorJanssen, their Fashion 399: Concept Development instructor, steppedout on stage to the sound of fading chatter and rising applause. Heintroduced the show and the collections, giving the audience anidea of what to expect. Then a twenty-minute video presentationhighlighted each student designer’s college career. Red took thepause to assess the environment around him. Nervous energy. Nofurtive movements or abnormal sounds detected.
Red joined Britt and the other models.
Tachi caught his eye and winked. “Glad youcould join us.”
“Looking good, Alfred,” Rodeo piped up fromover her shoulder before facing Tachi. “I still think we shouldhave a stomp-off.”
The dark-haired beauty pulled her chin backand laughed. “High heels or not, I would beat all of you guys.”
“Care to make it interesting?” Rodeogrinned.
She nodded, giving his hand one solid pump.“You’re on. What do I get if I win?”
Rodeo puffed out his chest. “I’m the onethat should be asking that question.”
Britt looked up into the group of beautifuland supportive people around her. “Okay, everyone. You know whatorder to line up? Feeling good about the crossover at the end ofthe catwalk?”
Rousing yesses.
The models from the first four collectionsascended the backstage stairs. Energetic, slick electronic beatsthundered through the building as the first group confidently tookthe stage to more applause. Like in the club, the loud noiseobscured Red’s hearing acuity. He shook his head, trying to clearit. Didn’t help. The virus pushed against him to change locationand take Britt with him. He fisted his hands and surveyed thespace, going through infil, exfil, options, and liabilities. Toomany liabilities. Damn it.
He activated the flesh-toned earpieceadhered behind his ear. As a bone-conductive piece of advancedtech, it allowed the teammates to still hear ambient sound inaddition to receiving direct communications input. The skin-coloredthroat mic, also tiny and nearly invisible, rested flush againsthis skin.
As the first collection started to walk, thestage manager signaled for the next four collections to lineup.
Britt motioned for everyone to lean in.“Hey, you all look fabulous. Thank you for helping me pull thisoff,” she said. “And … um, go team?”
