Page 7 of Silent Comrade
Right?
She had to be imagining things. The stressfrom finishing her senior project, juggling work and school, andtaking down rich bullies had all caught up to her. Somehow, she hadprojected her hang-ups onto this hapless, innocent new guy inschool. Who had a tiny bit of bright orange hair peeking out fromunder the edge of his beanie, near his covered ear.
When the instructor concluded class, Brittpacked up and slung her backpack over a shoulder. “Have a goodday,” she called to Al.
“Wait a second. Please.” He fiddled aroundwith his own Oakley shoulder tote, taking forever to put individualpens and the laptop and his book away. Every item had a specificslot.
She gritted her teeth and waited. Patience.So not her thing, at least according to her therapist. What about acute, neurotic guy in a beanie? Also not her thing.
Most college students were several yearsyounger than her twenty-six, what with her failure to launch andall. So he was probably early twenties. She peeked at him. Only,the set of his jaw and seriousness in his gaze suggested he’d livedthrough some stuff. Maybe he was a nontraditional student likeBritt. Age compatible.
No. Quit it. She had a senior project tofinish, college graduation, a last wish to fulfill, and family tofinally make proud. Heck, she needed to shop for ideas andmaterials soon, all in the name of getting the collectioncompleted—not that she wouldn’t also enjoythe heck out of the retail activity. No way would any person standin the way of her goals, regardless of how the light made his hazeleyes dance.
She sighed again when he took his sweet timezipping up the bag. He whipped around, head tilted, like he’d heardher. She swallowed.
No one else remained in the room. Not thathe scared her. He made her nervous, but not scared. Bigdifference.
A quick smile lit up his earnest face. “Anychance we could meet up tomorrow? Coffee. I’d like to thank you forhelping me out on my first day here.”
One: Why didn’t his casual tone match hisserious and alert expression?
Two: Coffee? What a big spender.
An immediate smear of shame squashed thatlast thought way down to the basement. Britt had no room to talk.Look at her, passing judgement. Had Mom been alive, she’d be verydisappointed in Britt’s presumption. The guy was new in town. Hedidn’t know anyone. He was trying his best. What if all he couldafford was coffee?
With him standing there, broad shouldersslumped, acrylic-frame glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose,wearing last decade’s striped shirt, and sporting an eyebrow-raisedpitiful expression, what woman could say no? Hell, Britt’s ovariescouldn’t decide if they wanted her to nurture him, jump him, or runfor the hills.
Either way—down,girls.
Coffee. Ironic choice, considering herpart-time job. Britt had access to all the coffee she could everconsume. That wasn’t the point.
Sure, she could take some time out of herfrenetic dash to the finish line of her college career to sit downand chat with Al.
“Okay.” She named a café nearby that shedidn’twork at. “Ten tomorrow morning work for you?”
“You bet.”
Air and silence filled the space betweenthem.
“All right, then,” she managed. Her tonguestuck to the roof of her mouth. “Um, see you then.”
As he followed her out of the classroom, anaura of safety clung to him. Something in the way he moved that bigbody of his, kind of like a mountain lion, quiet and graceful andsmooth, keeping a low profile, but ready to spring into action atany time.
Okay, truly she must be losing her mindromanticizing him as a stalking feline predator.
Britt didn’t have time for distractions.Discussion over.
Chapter Five
Sure as shit, Red was the biggest toolaround.
He should be at the coffee shop, chatting upBritt and earning her trust so he could get closer to her. Shouldbe.
Instead, Red was breaking and entering atBritt’s apartment during the precise time of their coffee date. Itwas the only decent opportunity when Britt and her roommate wereboth out of the apartment at the same time. Her roommate wasvisiting family for a few days, and planned to be back late thismorning.
He would know. He had accessed both of theircell phone calendars and text messages. He had also checked thoseof the tenants on either side of them in this apartment building.Stumpy and his amazing tech wizardry came in handy yet again.
Adjusting his fake cable-company uniformhat, Red kept his sunglasses on as he passed a tenant on theconcrete stairs. He glanced at his watch. Best guess was he hadabout a half hour before the window of opportunity closed.
