Page 13 of Silent Comrade
“Tonight?” It wasn’t a question.
Chapter Seven
At the rate Red had to duck out to “run tothe restroom” at the restaurant, Britt probably thought he had anervous bladder or a prostate the size of a honeydew. Couldn’t behelped. His damn phone kept buzzing in his pocket and he needed tosee what triggered the alarms.
As he flipped through the security cameraimages while standing in the bathroom stall of the Asian fusionrestaurant, his muscles twitched. Compulsively, he rechecked theweapons hidden on his lower back and legs. Antidote onboard or not,his body responded to threats of danger. How much of his responsewas due to the way the virus had changed him and how much came fromRed’s own internal constitution, he didn’t care to evaluate.
Bottom line: Lequire’s men were now casingthe neighborhood. He had visual proof as of a few hours ago. Redhad no backup. Not like he didn’t have experience managing on hisown business, but this was more than one man could handle.
Damn it. There were multiple trainedmercenaries out there, fueled by a desperate man with unlimitedfinancial resources. There was only one Red. The math did not favorhim. He would have to get creative in his protection duties.
He exited the restroom and peeked frombehind the waiter’s station. Britt couldn’t see him without craningher neck around. Red narrowed his eyes as he studied the fewremaining patrons. Their quiet conversations tapped like a gentlerain on a metal roof. The peppery clink of utensils on platesprovided light percussion. No other abnormal sounds came frominside or outside the restaurant. Still, anyone might threatenBritt.
Pissing him off the most was the glass frontof the establishment, and the straight-line shot that gave anyonewanting to hurt her. Not like he could dissuade her choice ofrestaurant after he had thrown himself at her feet and ateproverbial crow. Still, this open location wouldn’t be his firstchoice.
If the images from his security monitors andthe texts from Hunt were to be believed, then Lequire had gottenover his Sunday night Morpheus Squad-sponsored ass kicking at hisheadquarters only a few miles from here. Today was Tuesday. Lequirewould likely respond soon. Closest target: Britt.
Next problem: Red not only had to get hersafely home, he then had to stick to her like glue. Easier saidthan done, as he was still in the doghouse from his Granny-excusedabsence earlier today. He rubbed his neck, the short hair at thenape and the beanie fabric making shushing cotton sheet noisesagainst his skull. Twenty-four hours since his last shot. Amazinghow quickly his hearing rebounded. Damned virus wanted to get rightback out there and play some more.
He was cycling faster nowadays.
At some point, the antidote wouldn’t beenough. Then what?
Later. He’d deal with things like insanitylater.
Ensuring his phone was on silent mode, heeased into the seat across from Britt. He hated having his back tothe window, but at least he could physically obscure her as atarget. The prickles over his neck urged him to sit up straight,place his body in the way of anything that threatened her, and keepher safe.
The mission required that he stay incharacter. Shoulders remaining slumped, he flashed her a quicksmile. The fluttering uncertainty in her gaze as she toyed with anearring made his arms twitch with the need to wrap around her.
Feelings had no place here.
All that mattered was the mission.
“This was a nice meal,” he mumbled. God knewwhat they’d talked about, he’d been so distracted. He put sometwenties in the little black folder and pushed back in hisseat.
“Sure. Thanks for dinner.” No smile. Shedidn’t mimic his motion with her chair. Instead she leaned forward,eyes narrowed. Uh-oh.
Asking the question was both terrifying andnecessary. “Something wrong?”
She crossed her arms.Oh, shit. “Whydid we come here tonight, Al?”
“To make up for my missing coffee earlier.And you picked the place.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He had no spit to swallow, but he tried towet his lips anyway. “Not sure I understand the question.”
“We’rehere, together. But you’re nothere at all. You checked out a while ago. What’s the deal?” A metalhoop winked in the low light as her brows drew together.
“There’s no deal. Just tired after a longday.”
“Then why not wait to have dinner after yougot some rest?”
“I don’t follow.” Strange zaps of irritationpopped him like a million mosquitoes. “Look, I apologized formissing you earlier, and here we are now. I wanted to make thingsup to you. End of story.” He patted the table as if to go.
Britt didn’t budge. “There’s something weirdabout you.”
“I’m a fashion student. We’re all a littlequirky.”
