Page 85 of Silent Comrade
He could be proud of neither. Without thevirus, he still brought his history as a foster child with noparents and no solid past. With the virus, he had no future. He hadnothing of value he could bring to any long-term relationship.Certainly not one with an amazing woman like Britt. The sex mightbe outstanding, but eventually his virally driven need to remainclose and protect her would be stifling. That, combined with thelimited career options available for a government-hunted,weaponized soldier with an uncertain life span.
Hell, he no longer had the option to havechildren, thanks to the recommended mandatory vasectomy.
All his personal issues didn’t matter.
Britt was stressed and her feelings werereal even if her views were clouded. He of all people should knowhow thoughts became warped in a difficult situation, or in fear forone’s life and the lives of those they loved. Not having controlover an existence was stressful. Growing up in those terriblefoster homes had taught Red that lesson more than once.
He knew firsthand how power dynamics screwedwith people’s emotions. In this situation, sure, he had ensuredBritt’s consent, but the fact remained: he technically retained theupper hand based on his strength and his inside knowledge of thesituation.
God help him. What had he done? He had triedto develop a relationship in an impossible situation, during amission. His gut clenched. Hurting Britt was the last thing hewanted to do.
There were other last things he wanted to dowith her. To her. Which was part of the problem. He’d lostobjectivity and focus.
He paused, picking up a soft noise comingthrough the lemony plinking shower sound in the bathroom. He shookhis head, unable to discern it. He should be out there in theliving room, guarding her. But the prospect of facing Brittterrified him in a way that had never scared him before. He resumedpacing.
If he continued the way things were, Brittwould eventually resent him.Ifhe continued down this path.What a joke. He was on the path, right up until the path haddead-ended here in this apartment several minutes ago.
To salvage her future, he needed to stayaway from Britt.
To keep her alive, he had to remainclose.
Damn it. He rested his forehead on thecloset door. As for that fashion show? He grimaced. Red wantednothing to do with prancing around in whatever outfit she dreamedup.
But he’d promised. The team would help herfinish the project. A dangerous plan, but also it was fair.Lequire’s hunger for revenge wasn’t her fault.
Every teammate understood a life withoutchoices. Red certainly did. He would help her finish the show. Itwas her future at stake.
As soon as that damned show ended, Red wouldmake sure she went someplace safe until they untangled the messwith Lequire. Then he’d leave her the hell alone.
A hard knot closed his throat. No contactwith Britt. He was going to be sick.
The mundane task of reviewing current infiland exfil plans kept him functional and focused. Barely.
Pulling on the rest of his clothes, heremoved all the personal items and equipment he’d brought to thisapartment. Except for the surveillance monitors and a few hiddenweapons—he would leave those here untilthe mission ended. He would do his job but stay at arm’s lengthfrom Britt.
Then Red slipped out the front door.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Careful what you wish for” never seemed soprophetic as right now, as Britt got ready to finish her work shiftand go to class Monday. Alone.
After her meltdown, blowing up at Red thismorning, there was nothing else to do but drag herself throughwork. Lattes got mixed up with Americanos, and half-caf no-creamsbecame triple-soy with extra shots. Toward the end of the shift,Britt collected less tips than usual, but had amassed a heapinghelping of regret that made her chest feel caved-in. At times, shehad to fight to take in a full lungful of air.
Despite the emotional roller coaster, thefact remained that her life was in danger and Red held the line ofprotection around her. Wherever he was right now. If she hadn’ttold him to back off, Red would likely be in this coffee shop rightnow, innocently drinking his second cup while she completed hershift.
She cleared a table and set down the emptydishware in the kitchen. Scone crumbs clung to her hands and shewashed up, not registering water temperature, but merely goingthrough the cleansing motions.
“Customer at one of your tables,” anotherwaitress called as she collected a muffin and eggs.
Britt glanced at the clock on the wall.Thirty-five minutes until her shift ended. She peeked out,half-expecting Red or Rodeo to be sitting at her table. Nope, justa businessman wanting breakfast, like any other patron.
She sighed and turned off the water, dryingher hands on the apron that covered her knee-length black knitskirt and floral Lucky brand long-sleeved t-shirt. Completing thelook, the white Topshop sneakers had been a risky choice, what withthe chance of spilling food all morning. Sucking in a big breath,she stood up straight and set her shoulders. She could do this. Shecould get through this week.
Where was Red? Probably tracking her fromacross the street.
With a sigh, she pulled out the server iPadand walked across the half-empty coffee shop. “May I take yourorder?”
The man held up a hand and finished talkingon his phone.
