Page 89 of Silent Comrade
“Yes, but you need to know—”
No way were they having this conversationhere, in the hall, this week. “I have no extra energy to spend ondealing with us, with whatever this is or isn’t. It’s going to bean act of God if I finish everything I need to do. So please, giveme some space to work.”
There went that clamp of his mouth andguarded expression. Classic Red. One nod, then he pushed the dooropen for her to enter.
Still a gentlemen in the face of her lack ofcourtesy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
True, Red wanted to talk with Britt. Have aheart-to-heart discussion. Figure out a way to apologize for hispart in the mess of her life. Even apologize for all the stuff hecouldn’t control, but wished he could—forher sake.
He trudged upstairs to the fashion lab, afew steps behind her. Interpersonal communication wasn’t why hestuck close to her after class. It wasn’t even because he wanted totorture himself either, with the light scent of hibiscus and hersighs that electrified his skin.
She needed to know that Lequire was here andhad gotten too close. Britt knew her life was at risk. Knew hewould target her. If Red and Rodeo performed their missionproperly, then she would go about her day as if her life wasnormal.
If that asshole in a suit had gotten hishands on Britt, Red would have gladly taken action, riskingexposure and the military recapturing him. At this time, Red had tostay close enough that he wouldn’t irritate the piss out of Brittbut not leave her vulnerable.
Even now, hours later as he sat on the stoolopposite Britt’s sewing station, flipping through the digital videofeeds from cameras planted all over the school, her workplace, andher apartment, she glared at him as she stitched another hem.Despite Britt’s prickly demeanor, she managed to look casually sexyin white sneakers, a black skirt, and a fitted long-sleevedt-shirt.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll catch yourfinger in the machine.”
“Yes, sir.” She made a weak salute. “Alwayslooking out for bodily harm, I see,” she muttered
In a snit, didn’t even come close tothe mood she’d been nursing all day long.
“Can I help?” he tentatively asked. Shemight be tiny, but her wrath was terrifying. Mostly because hecared what she thought.
She stared at him for long enough to makehim sweat. Damn it.
Blinked those big, blue eyes.“Accessories.”
He pulled his head back. “What?”
“I…”—she whippedthe material off the machine—“need”—she snipped athread—“accessories.” She laid thematerial out next to another piece of fabric on the table.
“All right. Where do we get them? I can sendRodeo.”
Cutting another pattern, the crinkle ofpaper andskrunkof the scissors against the metal tablemade his ears tingle. Damned virus had started ramping up again. Hepatted the backpack. Syringe ready, for when he was ready tosacrifice tactical advantage for sanity.
“Hello?” She waved her hand in front ofhim.
“Huh?”
“Some help you are. Never mind.”
“No, seriously. Let me know what you wantand I’ll make sure you get it. Anything.” He froze. Damn it.
She stared at him. Breathed. Pupils dilated.Two heartbeats passed.
The tiny dart of her tongue against her lipgave it away. “Will you now?” she murmured. Pink tinted her cheeks.“No. What I mean is thatIneed to go get accessories tocomplete my designs.” She looked over at classmates several tablesaway, working hard on their projects. “If you want to do your job,you’ll have to come with me.”
“Let me coordinate with Rodeo. Do you knowwhere you want to go?”
“Mall.”
“Again? Are you serious? No.”
A tight smile. “Fine. Thrift shop inMidtown. It’s a thirty-minute walk.”
