Page 57 of Silent Comrade
She sighed as the fabric’s warmth from hisheated body seeped into her skin. The garment’s cuffs hung past herhands. “Thanks. So warm.”
Without looking down, he grinned. “I knowother ways to warm you up.” His smile froze, and tight linesbracketed his mouth.
Heat climbed her neck. The guy might be afashion disaster, but he wasn’t without basic pickup skills. “Wantto share those ideas?” she asked.
“Rather show you.” That low, calm voicemelted her insides. He slid his arm back around her shoulders oncemore. “No answer?”
“Not one that’s fit to be said aloud.”
A dry chuckle, but came across as hollow. “Ilike that.” The tone of voice was off. Unnatural.
Something about his vigilant, concernedexpression, cadence of words, and the content of what he said,didn’t add up. Britt’s neck prickled again. He was pushing withoutpushing, but still steering her.
No one steered Britt.
“Wait.” She stopped in her tracks. “You’redistracting me? With sexiness?” she asked.
He leaned down, a pretense of nuzzling herhairline and sending goose bumps down her spine. “We’re beingfollowed.” That voice, once smooth and sensual, now abraded. As shestiffened, he shushed her. “Don’t look around. Don’t stop. We’ll beat the MARTA station soon. It’s only 11:30. The train scheduletiming should work out.”
“How do you know that?”
“Memorized the schedule. Almost there.” Hebrushed his mouth against her temple and said, “I need you to walka little faster. But casually.”
Easy for him to say. Britt forced hershaking legs to turn over faster. Where did the sexy flirting stopand mission start?
Someone stalked them.
Her stomach churned. She had made anotherbad decision on impulse tonight.
Taking her hand, Al led her down the stairsto the platform. They moved a hair faster than socially acceptable.A handful of passengers played on cell phones or leaned against thetile walls as they waited for the train.
Too much open space. No place to hide. Shefelt the imaginary sting of laser gun targets pinning her body.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, turning so herback pressed against a wall of tile. He stood in the way of anythreat. “Breathe. Stay calm.” His strong presence and warm voicewrapped her in a cocoon of safety.
Strong and warm.
He was doing a job.
The guy had gone from seduction champ toice-cold professional in the space of mere seconds. With his armssnaking around her, he pressed against her waist and sheyelped.
“Shh.” He used the move to dig into thejacket pocket and palmed a black object.
Gun.
“You said the weapons were on yourperson.”
“Less noticeable if I access the jacketpocket,” he breathed.
A metallic squeal made Britt jump. Trainapproaching.
Al pulled her alongside the train, stoppingat the second-to-last car. As soon as the doors opened, he pressedhis palm to her back as she entered.
Two Black women, maybe early twenties, alsoentered the car and sat at the back, giggling and snapping photoson their phones. A middle-aged Latino-appearing man in a securityguard-type uniform took a seat near the front of the car thenpromptly crossed his arms and rested his chin on his chest. Agaggle of various styled college-aged people huddled in a group ofseats and chatted together.
Normal people, going about normalactivities. Her head spun.
Al positioned them near the door on acenter-facing double seat, again draping an arm over her shouldersand pulling her close. This time the gesture wasn’t affectionate.Hard tension in his muscles felt like pressing up against a hotbrick.
