Barrett sighed and leaned his sore back against the cool stone wall. His closed eyes watered in relief.
The bench creaked as Gus shifted his massive frame. “Take him out.”
The boy had so little and yet worked twice as hard as the rest of the students. Trouble was, he didn’t have their knack for picking up on the tasks and skills. One false or slow move in this game and it was all over. The world wasn’t always fair to lads like Anton. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t seem to make the cut. But even the Antons of the world had a place to serve.
“No. Put him on correspondence drops. As long as he can stay upright on a bicycle, he’ll stay out of trouble.”
“And if he can’t?”
“I’ll figure out something else. For now, keep training him on the side.” Barrett frowned as Anton tried closing his knife. It refused to stay shut. “Start with the blade. Don’t want him stabbing himself and getting blood all over the messages.”
The bench groaned as Gus stretched to his feet. “Can’t tip off the Gestapo so easily.”
“Don’t tell him. I want to ease him into the new position.”
The scarred flesh over Gus’s eyes scrunched together. “He’s got to know he ain’t cut out for this.”
“A man’s got his pride.” Pride covered a multitude of sins and weaknesses, but in this game it was a fatal chance to take. Some were born risk-takers, like he and Gus, but others like Anton found their strength in more subtle ways. He just needed to figure out what that was before the boy got the whole group killed.
Shrugging with disagreement, Gus headed off to start the dynamite assembly session. The ache that had crowded the edges of Barrett’s head all morning now throbbed in full assault. He closed his eyes, but like last night, rest evaded him. It was all Kat’s fault. Her horrified reaction to torching the painted trash had cost him a good night’s sleep. The artist within probably couldn’t help it, even if it was Hitler.
Knock. Knock, knock, knock.
“If that’s Victor, he owes me four laps for tardiness.” Barrett grimaced and adjusted his back against the wall. He’d feel the kidney jab for days to come. “No more excuses about his cat getting stuck in the gutters.”
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as the pressure mounted. Why did she get to him like this? He’d created more disturbances than he could count over the past two years, not to mention all the scuffs accumulated over his thirty-three years, and none of them left him so restless. This is what they did as part of the Resistance. Not for the thrill of arson, but as another blow to the Germans to end the war. She couldn’t understand that. Hard to get dirt on one’s hands from so far up in that ivory tower.
“Do you ever do any work?”
Barrett’s eyes flipped open to find Kat watching him with an amused tilt to her red lips. Dressed in cream and pearls, she fit perfectly into that ivory tower he needed to keep her in. One he could never climb as her equal. She was infiltrating his thoughts much too easily.
“Ten minutes sooner and you would’ve caught me in the middle of a lesson.”
“I would’ve caught you in the middle of a nap is more like it.” Soft golden curls swished over her slim shoulders as she turned her head to the class gathering in the corner for demolition lessons. “Everyone else is hard at work, and yet I find you here like a bump on a log. Such an inspiration to your men.”
“Did you come down here to antagonize me, or are you stopping for a breather between shopping trips?”
“Because a bar is the most sensible place for a rest before noon.”
Barrett stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “I’ve heard worse excuses from women who simply miss me.”
“And what a grand sight you are for any pining woman: rumpled shirt, unshaven, and hair like you’ve been through a tornado. My heart is aflutter.”
“I would expect no less of a reaction, except mayhap a dead faint at my feet.”
“I’ll warn you should I feel light-headed.” She shifted her weight, her dainty heel clicks echoing off the barren walls. “May I sit down?”
“If you’re not afraid of getting your skirt dirty.”
“I’m not as fragile as you would have me to be. Is that blood?”
He squinted at the dried patch on