Page 19 of Silent Comrade
Hard to hit the sweet spot between everydaystudent and serial killer with this getup. Smiling helped. Hehoped. He’d considered brown hair dye for his brows and hair, buthis sensitive skin failed the patch test. Rubbing the inside of hisarm that still itched, he grimaced. If he had put that goop allover his head, his scalp would have peeled off by now. After thatexperiment, he had no time—orinclination—to risk temporary orsemipermanent hair coloring.
So that left Red with a sweaty stakeout inMagnolia Ridge Mall. For the hundredth time tonight, he patted hislower back where the baggy hoodie hid the concealed Sig. Hecatalogued his other weapons. He kept a bead on Britt as she workedher way through the JT Armstrong department store. Earlier today,her visit to the fabric and craft mega-store had been a tedious twohours. Would it be too much to simply pick a shade of green andmove on?
He knew the answer to that question. Therewere at least 326 shades and patterns of green at that fabricstore. She’d looked at them all.
Now Red was finding out just how longsomeone could take two pairs of jeans, hold them up, test theirappropriateness against various shirts, rub the fabric betweenfingers, and otherwise compare them. Answer: twenty-four minutesand counting for two pairs of jeans.
She didn’t purchase either.
Half of her time was spent staring at theoutfits like a platoon sniper calculating wind and distance whilewaiting for the perfect shot.
Did she have to run those fingers over everypiece of fabric? Every time she touched a new fabric, heexperienced that sea breezeshushingsound in a visceralway. He could almost taste salty ocean air and feel the warmsunshine.
Another peek over the children’s clearancerack allowed him to identify the top of Britt’s head. Tonight, herpurple-streaked brown hair was pulled back in rows of silver clips,revealing her delicate features. The slight upturn of her nose washighlighted by the hoop on one side. Her dark lined eyes shouldhave come across as edgy or angry, but on her it made her blue-huedirises glow. What about her lips? Red had so much intel about hermouth from last night, that the depth of knowledge constituted aconflict of interest.
He couldn’t afford to lose focus.
Red glanced around. More witnesses in apublic place, but still not out of the question for Lequire to makea move in this kind of location.
The store, with its sandpapery soft musicechoing off the muted walls and its quietly chattering shoppers,would make it hard to pull off a kidnapping. A suddenchalkboard-scratch wail pierced the space around him, and he wincedand spun around. The last time he’d been around toddlers … so manyyears ago in the foster home.
Hey, he knew how that kid felt. Five hoursof shopping should qualify Red for combat pay.
He eased between two racks and squatted downto pretend to consider socks. How many brown shades were there?Another glance over the rack. Great. Now she had moved to lingerie.If he had to witness her stroking panties, then he would sue hisemployer for pain and suffering.
In a split-second his mind went fromassessing strategic locations within this store to assessing whatlay under her pink, thigh-length shift. What sort of bra swept overthose soft curves? What undergarments went with the black tights,Doc Martens, and a pink shift? Black lace? Pink leather? As afashion student, he needed to know if her foundation-wear fit thetough appearance she cultivated.
Memories of their steamy kiss mingled withhis mannequin-obscured view of her exploration of sleepwear onsale. He knew that the fierce woman beneath the hair dye,piercings, and shitkickers could also melt in his arms.
A nail-drag sigh skimmed his hearing, and hegot even warmer.
She was on the move again, to the petites’section. Of course. Selecting a few items, she disappeared into thefitting room. He scanned the area for any sign of danger. Anythingout of place. Out of place? Like a dude in a hoodie lurking solo onthe edges of women’s athleisure in JT Armstrong.
He maneuvered close enough to the fittingroom entrance that his sensitive hearing picked up on the rasp offabric sliding against skin. A zipper made a lemony yellowtick-tickon its way up. Then came a penny-tastingpopof a metal snap. Another sigh. And a hum. With hisvirally driven ability, it was as if her lips rested mere inchesfrom his ears.
Jumping at an overhead ping, he listened tothe announcement: store was closing in fifteen minutes. Thank Godthey were almost done. He needed a snack, a cold shower, and anap.
A flash of movement from the corner of hiseye made him whip around, all senses on immediate alert. He duckedbehind a rack of clothing. Two men in unbuttoned black blazers andblack pants wandered in a nonrandom way through the center salesection, casting way too many glances toward the dressing room.
The evening’s assignment rocketed fromho-hum to high stakes. Red’s adrenaline pushed an icy hot wavethrough his veins, driven by the helicopterwhumpof hisheart.
The blazers they wore? First of all, whoshopped in Atlanta in blazers? Also, he could guess at the natureof suspicious lumps on the men’s backs and hips. Lumps that restedin holsters and spat deadly bullets.
Red slid his hand over his lower back andretrieved his Sig. Tucking it into the front hoodie pocket, he kepta hand on it.
His training, driven by the virus, causedhis muscles to tense. His nerves hummed like a high-tensionelectric line. Most people had a fight-or-flight response. Thevirus—and Red—only knew “fight.”
Hunt’s intel was dead wrong. Chances thosemen were shopping the latest summer trends? Zero.
A dressing room door clicked closed with adull, moldythud. Thick-soled shoes lightlythuddedon industrial carpet as she came closer. Decision time. Explaininghis presence to Britt would be disastrous to the mission. On theother hand: hell if he’d let those goons hurt her.
As she exited the dressing room, he remainedhidden, keeping several racks of clothing between them, movinggarments to the side, and peeking up at times to maintain line ofsight.
The store pinged another cheery reminderthat it was closing in five minutes.
She paused, then turned back to anotherrack.
Red ground his molars.
