“Drink one for me.” He loaded up the empty paint cans, and Suds gave him a hand with the tarps. Driving his own wheels to the job site today had been a smart choice.

“You’ll miss out on the fun—and the babes.” Suds waggled his eyebrows.

Buzz tried not to grimace. “Maybe next time.”

“Your loss.”

Hardly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. If we’re lucky, we’ll finish up here early. I wouldn’t mind getting a jump on the weekend.”

Neither would he.

But while Suds probably had more party plans in mind, he had important work to do.

All at once, his fingers began to tingle—and Buzz froze. What was with the sudden case of nerves? He was prepared for the task ahead. Everything would be fine.

He took a calming breath and deposited the last of his painting paraphernalia in the truck. “Enjoy your beer.”

“Count on it.” Suds smacked his lips.

With a lift of his hand, Buzz hurried to his car, slid behind the wheel, and headed home.

Although his stomach began growling as he parked in front of his apartment and ascended the stairs to his second-floor unit, food could wait.

A final gear inspection was his top priority this evening. Everything should be in order, but in case he’d missed an item, it would be helpful to identify it tonight. Running around tomorrow after work to handle a last-minute equipment glitch would be distracting. He wanted nothing on his mind after tonight but the big event.

Buzz dropped his lunch pail on the counter in the kitchen, continued to his bedroom, and pulled out his list. One by one, he laid the items on the bed, ending with the black hood that had seen its share of marches and demonstrations.

But never had it been as critical as it would be this weekend.

He gave the clothing and equipment one final survey. Double-checked it against his list. Nodded. Come Saturday, he’d be ready to roll.

Now he could relax for the evening. Eat dinner, take a shower, read.

And while his high school acquaintances were wasting their weekend with babes and booze, he’d be making an important contribution to the cause. One he’d never get credit for—but that was okay. The hood would keep him out of jail so he could continue the good fight.

Besides, this wasn’t about one man’s glory. It was about securing power for everyone.

He strolled toward the kitchen, a hum of excitement thrumming through his veins. One person would know what he’d done, though—and if he pulled this off, more responsibilities would come his way. More chances to contribute on a large scale. All he had to do was show up, stay cool, and wait for the perfect moment.

Ten seconds later, in the chaos that followed, he’d disappear into the crowd.