Page 101 of Harbinger

“I’m fitting it to you. You’re not going in there tomorrow without it.”

She gulps, those big green eyes blinking up at me as I fit it over her head, adjusting it so it conforms to her curves.

It’s a new technology that we’re being allowed to test out. Practically as thin as paper, these bulletproof vests have been proven to absorb the impact of even small bombs, leaving whoever is wearing it safe.

Well, relatively. But if something happened, I’d rather be hospitalized than dead.

“Do you have one too?” she asks, looking around me and into the suitcase.

“Yeah, it’s in there.”

Her lips thin as she stands, her arms out at her sides as I adjust everything.

I kiss both of her cheeks before placing one on her soft lips, brushing her hair out of her face. “I don’t trust a single man in that room, beautiful, and I’m going to make sure you’re protected.”

Our eyes meet as she lets out a shallow sigh. She’s nervous. I can tell.

When she first came to the DC compound, she was a bundle of nerves. I watched her as she would wring her fingers together, cracking each finger slowly before doing them all over again. Her knees were jumpy, her shoulders tight.

After a couple of days, that slowed down. She became more confident in herself. More sure.

But now, getting ready for this meeting, she’s anything but calm.

“I would just rather not be in a room with him,” she whispers, pouting.

I close my eyes, wishing I could take her hurt away. I wish I could change things about her past for her. I’d do anything to do that for her. Anything to make things better.

But I know I can’t.

“Let’s get you dressed in everything else,” I say finally, tapping her shoulders.

A knock on the door alerts us to a visitor, and we both turn, finding a small blonde woman with a computer. She smiles at us, holding up a wire.

“I’m Stella, it’s so nice to meet you!” she greets Sydney, grabbing her hand and shaking it. “I’ve heard so many great things about you,” she says, and I wonder who from. Sydney and Jerry have been getting along great, but I don’t think I believe that Jerry is singing her praises to anyone who will listen. That’s just not her.

Stella fits Sydney with a wire, being careful to hide it well as she places a small recording device the size of a grain of rice in her ear.

“Just don’t scratch it off,” she tells Sydney, and knowing her, that’s going to be all she’ll think about for the next two hours.

Thirty minutes later, we’re out the door, wishing Matthew farewell. We’ll be going directly from the meeting to the plane and back home.

The idea of that feels so bittersweet. We never get vacations, but that one day alone with Sydney yesterday? It almost felt like one. Like we could forget the world, and it could just be us for just one day. Like nothing else in the whole world matters except for the other.

I wish we could have stayed here forever, but we have to get back to reality.

And hopefully, if the board makes their decision quickly, we’ll have a decision soon, and Sydney can decide whether she wants to stay or leave.

I hope it’s the first option.

More than anything.

TWENTY-NINE

SYDNEY

The room iscold and dim, the brown curtains drawn over the windows, the dark tables lined with papers.

In front of me sits eight men, each and every single one of them singing my father’s praises as I get myself ready for questioning.

---