CHAPTER 4
Wraith
“Areyou seriously going dressed like that?” Colson asks, regarding me and his man with disdain. “You look exactly like what you are.”
“What do you mean, babe?” Specter asks, looking down at his ubiquitous black outfit.
“You’re going to a sporting event dressed like Mafia muscle.”
“What should we wear?”
Colson huffs, flipping his hair off his shoulder. “Do you have any civilian clothes?”
“These are civilian clothes,” Specter complains.
“Oh my god, boys. Come.”
We dutifully follow Colson upstairs to his and Specter’s shared bedroom. While I linger at the foot of the bed, Specter stands close to Colson by the dresser as he digs through it.
“Finally,” Colson says, producing a plain white t-shirt. He smiles as he finds a second one. “These will do. Do you have sneakers?”
Specter scoffs.
“Right,” Colson says. “This will help a little.”
I pull my black turtleneck sweater off and slide the t-shirt over my head. It’s a little tight and clearly hasn’t been worn in awhile, but it’s fine. I wear the occasional t-shirt when I’m just hanging out at home. Specter, however, looks ready to crawl out of his skin.
Colson grins, smoothing his hands over the slightly wrinkled shirt. “You look adorable.”
He grunts. “The look I’m going for.”
“You just need to blend in a little more if you’re going to be hanging out there.”
“You have a point.” Specter’s still tugging on the shirt.
“Any coats beside the hit man special?” Colson asks and I chuckle at that.
“I have a bomber jacket,” I offer.
“Good. Get that. Specter?”
He sighs, throwing his head back slightly. “I think I have a leather jacket I haven’t worn in a while.”
Colson steps into the closet, flipping through hangers for a few seconds before making a sound of delight. When he reappears, he’s holding a denim jacket with fleece around the collar.
“You were holding out, babe.”
“I forgot I had that.”
I watch with complete amusement as Colson helps Specter into the jacket. He looks completely different all of a sudden. Younger. Still surly, but that’s just his vibe.
“There. Just two regular hockey fans watching the game,” Colson says, messing with Specter’s hair. “Have fun, boys.”
I dip from the room and head to mine to find my jacket, then at the last minute decide to switch my black jeans for regular blue ones. Colson does have a good point. If I want to stalk my target, I need to blend in a lot more.
When we head downstairs and pass through the rec room, we’re met with whistles from all the guys. Except Shadow. He’s probably holed up in his room still. He’s been pretty antisocial lately. Understandably.
“Looking good, boys,” Carnage says. “Like a couple of bros.”
