Page 29 of Silent Comrade
His heart thumped. Too close to the truth.“I’m enrolled at SCAD Atlanta.”
A snort and a shrug. “Then I’m not exactlyinjured. No hospital. What about you? Don’t you need stitches orsomething?” When she reached toward his soaked shirt, heflinched.
“All good.” Nothing about this situationresembled ‘good,’ except for the miracle that they were somehowstill alive.
“Obviously. What with the blood soaking yoursweatshirt and all.”
“Britt, please. I can have a doctor come toyou, free of charge. Would take a few hours or so but I can get himhere. Please let me provide you with medical care. I can pay.”Something deeper inside of him wanted to provide more than medicalcare, and he mentally stomped that thought before it could developfurther.
“Thanks, but I’m not interested in owinganyone, anything. Especially not in a situation as freaky as thisone.”
He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. Hecould force the issue, but he’d already pushed too far thisevening. Mission success depended on compromise and trust.
A truck followed them down a city street,and he tensed, changed lanes, and made a series of abruptturns.
“Where are we going?” She cleared her throatand sighed, the sound rolling over him like a comfortableblanket.
“Right now? In a random pattern.” Hesquinted against the streetlights.
“What?”
“Hold tight for a second.”
She looked back over her shoulder andgripped the center console. “Is someone following us?” Theglass-cracking tone of her voice gutted him.
He brushed his hand over hers. “Not if I canhelp it.” He sped up, turned another series of corners instomach-churning maneuvers, then quickly pulled into a parkinggarage and killed the lights.
“Al?” she whispered. “We should call thepolice.”
“No police,” he snapped.
“Are you a criminal?”
“The exact opposite.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hang on, Britt.” Toggling the display onthe dashboard, he tapped out a series of commands. A high-pitchedwhine shuddered through the vehicle.
“What’s that?” Her sun-clear voicebrightened the dark space.
“Long story, but I just changed the licenseplate and appearance of the vehicle.”
“Like James Bond?”
“Kind of.” 007’s gadgets were child’s playcompared to what Stumpy could devise. The team also enjoyed amystery benefactor supplying them with the latest tech. He tensedas a dark truck turned into the garage, headlights strafing theirvehicle. The purr of the other engine was marred by a misfiringfuel injector, creating a unique rumble. “Get down.” He winced atthe movement as he cupped her head to gently ease her forward inthe seat. He followed suit.
“This is not normal,” she whispered. Beneathhis hand, she trembled. “Oh my gosh, they’re going to find us.”
He fought the urge to rush the truck andforcibly remove the people inside.Stay calm. In and out, hebreathed. Over and over. “They won’t see a dark SUV with theGeorgia license plate. Just a boring, dented white family minivanfrom Alabama. Nothing interesting at all.”
The truck passed by again, paused behindtheir vehicle, then exited the garage, the engine noise fading intothe night.
As she sat up, her inhalation sliced hissenses. “This is not okay,” she said, reaching for the doorhandle.
“Britt. Stay in the car. There’s a lot youdon’t understand…”
“Let me guess. It’s complicated.”
