Page 63 of Harbinger

Sydney grabs both of my hands, lifting them to her lips. They feel cool against my hot skin. “I promise you, I won’t stop you.”

“And I’m with you every second he’s around you.”

“That’s totally fine with me.”

I nod, scratching my chin.

She bites her cheek, chuckling under her breath. “This feels almost real.”

“Thispart is.”

* * *

We’re sitting at the table eating our steak dinners when Jeremy sits down, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. Looking at the plate of chicken in front of him, his eyes flutter to me.

“So, Ronan, how was that case you were working on months ago?” he asks, cutting into the meat.

How does he know about that?

“I’m not sure what you mean; you may have someone else,” I tell him despite the fact that he knows my name. It’s not surprising, but I’m not sure how he knows about that case.

“Oh, I’m sure you do. You told your, uhh,wife,about it, right? Surely you did. Maybe she remembers.”

I look at her, the questions in her eyes feeling like a stab.

“I mean, you were undercover, weren’t you? With that woman? You’d tell your wife about that, I’m sure. So Sydney, how did it go?” he repeats, trying to get a rise out of us.

Her eyes narrow, and I hold my breath. He’s trying to piss her off.

But instead of blowing up, she wipes her mouth with her napkin, placing it neatly folded on the table as her eyes meet his. “He said it went perfectly,” she tells him, a smile on her face. Anyone who doesn’t know her would think she’s genuine.

“Well, you must be up to your own cases, right? God, I thought you were a programmer. Pretty cool that you guys both work undercover, though,”

I look around, thankful that everyone else is still occupied by the fake art on the walls.

“What do you mean?” Sydney’s head tilts.

“I mean that that night I met with you at the bar. I asked you on a date. You were clearly trying to get information from me, right? I mean, you guys are married! He’s out there hanging out with other women at clubs. You’re accepting dates. Obviously, there’s some… odd things going on.”

Without missing a beat, Sydney rolls her eyes, taking a sip of wine. “Jesus Christ, man, just say you hate swingers and move on. You weren’t interesting enough for me.”

I choke on steak.

An actual choke. A whole piece of meat down the wrong pipe. My eyes tear up as I cough it up, only hearing Sydney say, “sorry, he hates when I tell people,” before slapping me hard on the back.

When I can finally breathe again, I smile at Jeremy. “It’s just a private thing, you know?”

He scowls at us, leaning back in his seat as the others file back to their tables. Bidding is done.

NINETEEN

SYDNEY

The dinner goesby in a flash, no one feeling super chatty after their bids. I have to imagine that some of them are nervous, but it’s also hard to imagine that the 80-year-old next to me is capable of possible war crimes.

Maybe that’s something I should come to expect.

William finally appears back at the microphone a little after the tables are cleaned off, reading off everything people have bid on. Of course, we didn’t bid on anything, and it seems like a lot of other people are in the same boat, which makes me feel slightly better about not having too much attention on us.

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