Page 60 of Harbinger

And that’s fucking terrifying.

But when everything comes rushing back, the low hum of voices around us growing louder once more, I break the kiss. He grabs the back of my neck, his eyes full of questions.

I tip my head back just slightly in the direction of Jeffrey across the room. “Have to play it up for the bit, right?” I ask him, biting my lip as I lower my gaze. This is for the mission. This isn’t real.

Ronan keeps looking at me for a moment longer before clearing his throat, sitting in his seat next to me.

“That didn’t feel like a bit,” he says under his breath as he angles his chair slightly to see the speaker better.

“Are you admitting you liked it?”

“I may be.”

“That sounds like I’m winning.”

“Thatfeelslike you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Is it working?”

“And what if it does? Who wins then?”

I drop my eyes. “I think the obvious answer is me.”

He smirks, his brown eyes searing into mine as the man in front of us taps his mic.

“Good evening, everyone! Thank you so much for being here tonight. We’re just going to get sta—oh! No you’re fine, come on in and sit down,” he says, looking toward the entrance. Ronan watches him, his eyes drifting over to Jeffrey.

It’s not until I hear someone at our table greet the newcomer that I look.

And I’m met with an extremely familiar face.

Fuck.

EIGHTEEN

RONAN

A sharp painin my shin has my head whipping toward Sydney, concern on my face.

Her eyes are wide, a tight smile on her face as her eyes dart across the table and back to me quickly.

And I can see why she’s panicking.

Jeremy Reynolds.

He looks right at me, a smile on his face as he takes us in. He doesn’t look surprised to see us here. Doesn’t even look phased in the slightest.

I can feel her leg shaking against mine, a restless tick of hers. I grab her knee under the table, tapping it before running my hand up her thigh, capturing her hand in mine. It’s been an unfortunate revelation tonight that we both calm at the other’s touch. It’s the last thing either of us need, and it’s not something that’s faked.

I squeeze it three times, and I feel her fingers tighten around mine.

After a moment, her shaking stops, and we turn our attention back to the speaker.

William Berner has been throwing these dinners for the last fifteen years, bringing some of the most powerful, influential people of DC together into one room so deals can be made, money being exchanged through the fake art that lines the walls. Rich people can support all sorts of horrible things under the guise of buying art.

He’s also a member of the secret society we’ve been trying hard to track. Someone we have an interest in and will be continuing to watch after this mission is over. Usually, we’re here to keep watch on the happenings here. Make sure that nothing too evil happens. There’s a line that has to be crossed before we’re personally allowed to step in, but that doesn’t mean we don’t gather all the intel we can and report it back to our handler, who lets the Agency know so they can get actual agents in on it, considering a lot of the money ends up going overseas.

He drones on and on about how he’s so thankful that everyone is here and that they’ll be opening up the bidding for the next thirty minutes. People can go around to each piece, putting a price down. They want it tracked, the Society. Information to hold over their heads in the future if need be. You’d be surprised how okay rich people are with having seedy information about them out there as long as they get something out of it first.

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