Page 38 of Tracked
“The code for the locker room is 0129. Once you’ve changed and secured your things, I’ll be waiting for you here and will escort you to your ride.”
“Great.” My frown deepened as I watched Lara lift her glass, her intention to drain the rest of the drink before heading back to change.
Shit.I shot my hand out for the key and purposely knocked into Lara’s arm, sending the glass flying from her fingers.
“No!” Lara let out a choked cry, attempting to catch the cup, but all that did was send it spinning toward her, spraying the front of her shirt and blazer and jeans with green goop.
“Damn. I’m sorry.” I feigned dismay, picking the glass up from the floor; the rug under the desk had prevented it from shattering.
“Do you have tissues or something?” I asked, seeing Brielle just standing there, eyes wide, hands over her mouth like she’d just witnessed a car crash, not a spilled smoothie.
“Oh, y-yes. Yes,” she stammered, darting from one side of the desk to the other like a squirrel stuck in the middle of the road, unsure which way to go. “I ... I’m sorry. I guess we must be out.”
“Maybe in the back?” I prompted.
“I have to change anyway ...” Lara said, her glare barely tethered behind her calm facade.
“I’ll check, but changing is just easier,” Brielle said with a nervous laugh. “The code is 0129,” she reminded us as we moved down the hall, her voice carrying the distinct edge of panic.
“You did that on purpose,” Lara accused as soon as the locker room door closed behind us. “Why—”
I silenced her with a hard look and a finger to my lips. Mercifully, her whole demeanor became compliant, begrudgingly, as her head swiveled to follow me while I scanned the room.
A video camera in a changing area was illegal, but I wasn’t willing to put it past them.
Moving along the perimeter, I scanned the corners of the ceiling and then stopped in front of the shelves of individually wrapped clothes. I slid the bundles side to side, confirming there was no camera behind them or some kind of peephole from another room. Taking a pack ofclothes labeledSmallfrom the women’s rack, I held it out to Lara along with my explanation.
“I don’t trust that they didn’t put something in the smoothie.” I kept my voice quiet. No video surveillance didn’t implicitly imply no audio recording.
Her eyes rounded and sank to her wet shirt. “It tasted like matcha ...”
“How do you feel?” I asked when she took the clothing bundle from me. I turned then to pull a large one down for myself.
“Nervous but otherwise fine so far,” she admitted honestly, tearing open the plastic and pulling out what amounted to a loose T-shirt and matching pants.
“Good.” I opened my own pack, relieved it was only clothes we had to change, not shoes. When I looked back, Lara was staring at the shirt she’d held up in front of her, her brows knotted. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I just can’t believe I paid eight thousand dollars to wear scrubs for two weeks.” She tried to brush off the question with uneasy humor, like I hadn’t noticed her hesitation and the shadows staining her eyes. “I need to change, can you ...”
“Yeah,” I clipped and strode over to the locker marked 19.
Keeping my back to her, I unlocked it and began putting my things inside. Backpack. Empty wallet. Phone. I’d already left my Glock in the truck because there was no chance—legitimate or not—they’d let me take a weapon to the program.
“Do you think they’re going to go through our things?”
“Probably,” I said without hesitation, attempting to ignore the sound of fabric separating from her skin.Attempting and failing.
“But if they check our wallets, they’ll see our IDs—”
“We’re not going to leave them,” I told her, biting my cheek when I heard the zipper of her jeans pause. “Just take yours out when you’re ... done, and I’ll handle it.”
The metal teeth continued to flay apart, simultaneously unzipping the seam between reality and fantasy in my mind. And when I closedmy eyes, it only gave that fantasy a highlight reel. Her top gone. The denim unwrapped from her legs, leaving her in nothing but—
“Calder.” Lara’s voice, and her soft hand on my shoulder, made me jerk. “I’m done.”
Fuck, so was I.
Bracing myself, I turned, unable to stop my eyes from sweeping down and taking her in.
