I slid my sunglasses down over my eyes and nodded across the street.“Guy on the bench.Cord’s clocked him three days straight.Same spot.At the same time.At least an hour each time.”
Twister didn’t look directly.Just scanned the street like he didn’t care.“Could be nothing,” he said.
“Could be,” I agreed.“But I don’t like it.”
“Yeah,” he muttered.“Me neither.”He shifted his stance slightly.“Let’s go have a chat.”
I smirked faintly.“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
We didn’t go straight at him.That would’ve been stupid.
We headed down toward the stoplight first, crossing with the rest of the crowd like we were just two more guys heading somewhere else.
The street was picking up.
End-of-day traffic.College kids flooding the sidewalks.Music from somewhere down the block.
Laughter.
Phones.
Noise.
Too many moving parts.
We crossed over and started back toward the bench.Twenty feet out.Fifteen.Ten, and then chaos.A group of college girls practically slammed into us.
“Sorry!”one of them giggled, grabbing onto Twister’s arm like she’d just found her next bad decision.
Another one laughed, eyes flicking between us like we were part of some kind of show.
“You guys look like trouble,” one of them said.
“No shit,” Twister muttered under his breath.
I shifted, trying to move through them, but they swarmed.
Perfume.
Laughter.
Phones shoved in faces.
Hands brushing arms.
Typical college girl chaos turned up to eleven.
“Excuse us,” I said, my voice flat.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” one of them pouted.
Twister finally peeled one off his arm.“We’ve got somewhere to be,” he said, his tone just sharp enough to cut through the giggling.
That seemed to do it.
They scattered, laughing as they went.
The second they cleared, I looked at the bench, and it was empty.
