Page 77 of The Company We Keep

Dust squeezed around his gun involuntarily — and though he didn’t flinch, Emerson noticed. He produced a manila folder from his jacket.

“Lest you think you can solve this problem by getting trigger happy, Charlie, just know that I came with plenty of proof of who you really are,” Emerson said. “You can shoot me, but you can’t make these go away.”

Emerson slapped the folder down on the dining room table — the place that Dust had only just been thinking about serving dinner to his friends — and several sheets of glossy paper edged out and onto the table. Dust could recognize them from here: field reports he’d made several years ago back at the agency, a glossy photo they’d taken of him for the last AIIB ID card he’d ever had.

It was over. This was all over.

Dust lowered his gun but Carrow kept his leveled at Emerson.

“What can’t he make go away, Neil?”

“All of the proof that Dustin Wrenshall is Charlie Judge. Every bit of documentation that you’ll need to erase any doubts that you’ve had an Abe agent living under your roof for the past year.”

“Dust is AIIB?” Carrow said, his words incredulous despite the reality that had to be sinking in.

“Yes,” Emerson said. “Iam too. I got him in, and now it’s time for me to take him back out.”

Dust jumped at a sudden sound behind him. The rest of The Company was returning. Wayles’ high laugh reachedthem first and then the sound of Herron murmuring something in response.

“We’ve got a guest in here,” Carrow announced loud enough for them to hear. The conversation stopped as the others rushed to join them. It was all of the remaining members of the crew. They entered and drew their own guns when they saw Carrow. The boss didn’t take his eyes off of Emerson.

Dust could barely look at them.

“What the fuck areyoudoing here?” Vashvi asked.

“I was just telling your boss about the Abe agent you’ve been working with,” Emerson said with a casual shrug.

No one moved but Herron. Their aim shifted, and then Dust was looking down the barrel of their gun.

“Hey — Herron —” Vashvi cautioned.

“Wayles, go take the folder and give it to Leta,” Carrow said, his voice tight and uneven. Nobody told Herron to lower their gun.

Carrow would be putting things together in his memory, Dust thought. The way they’d met, the holes in his past, the bank job and the way Dust had been so fucked up afterwards.

The hundreds of times he’d told Carrow that he loved him, maybe.

The times Carrow had said it back to Dust. To a person who must now feel like a stranger.

Wayles moved cautiously, looping around on Carrow’s side and retrieving the folder from the table. He passed it to Leta, who sheathed her gun and opened the folder.

Everything he had worked for was over. Carrow was going to have him killed today — the man that he loved — and he couldn’t even blame him for it. Dust had left him no other choice.

The air was heavy and still as they waited for Leta’s verdict. She shuffled through the files, the photos. Emersonwould’ve had access toeverything. He could’ve gotten the files without even raising an eyebrow at the bureau.

“Dust…” Leta said, sounding tremendously sad. “It’s true.”

“Put your gun down,” Vashvi said, taking a step towards him. She was aiming at him now, too. He wanted to vomit. With one hand raised to indicate that he wasn’t going to try anything, he drew the gun slowly, turned the muzzle away from his friends, and placed it on the kitchen counter. “Now step away from it. Go stand by Emerson.”

With both hands raised, he did as he was told. All of their eyes were on him now. He could hardly bear it.

“Wayles, go get some zip ties,” Carrow said. The man nodded and left. They waited for him.

He remembered, then, the way he had viewed Carrow. Dust had walled off that part of his memory, but it came back in a flood.

Suddenly he was back in his old apartment with the binder, looking at the pictures of Carrow, his blood running cold. He could remember how Charlie Judge had felt something beyond fear of Carrow. Awe, maybe, at how completely the man could erase him if he wanted to.

Carrow hadn't been that man to him since the moment they met. Even in his worst moments of doubt, he had felt something more than that for the man. He had felt respect and attraction and love — but never that same fear.

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