Mark Del Franco - Face Off

She paused in surprise. “The leanansidhe ? Are you serious?”

Laura spread her hands. “She’s one of our own, Genda, regardless. The Guild is not the best security for her under the circumstances. You have to keep in mind our own morale. If we don’t protect her, it’s going to cause anxiety for every InterSec agent undercover.”

Genda frowned. “Surely they don’t want to be seen as supporting her?”

“Not her, per se. The organization.” Laura hesitated, steeling herself to speak. “If you end up more than acting director, Genda, internal support from rank and file will be invaluable.”

As the thought settled in her mind, Genda’s face relaxed. “Interesting. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Feigning indifference, Laura shrugged. “Think about it, then.”

Genda winked. “I will.”

Laura took a deep breath. The idea that Terryn could lose his position made her almost feel physically ill. That Genda—with no field experience—might replace him made it worse. That she had encouraged that thinking made it awful.

Her phone chirped as soon as Genda left, and Laura checked the text message. Terryn wanted to meet with her and Sinclair later that night at the Guildhouse. She stared at the files. She didn’t think the Guildhouse was a good location under the circumstances. She texted Terryn and told him she’d send him a more secure location. Someone in the Inverni entourage wanted Draigen dead. It was too obvious to consider anything else anymore. She was afraid of where it would lead. And what Terryn would do about it.

LAURA WAITED INthe dark of the Holy Rood Cemetery, old granite tombstones pale and silent around her. Terryn had given her the location in a sending, and she passed it on to Sinclair. In the distance, the Washington Monument glowed like a white spike against the deep azure sky. The graveyard had fallen into disrepair long ago, its occupants ancient and forgotten. No living descendants of the interred had visited in decades. Despite its proximity to Logan Circle, the place wasn’t high-profile or likely to draw attention. Which was what made it a convenient meeting place.

Sinclair arrived first, his tall silhouette recognizable as he strode up the hill from the street. Laura lingered in the shadows, watching. He avoided direct lighting and, once in the graveyard proper, moved along the darkened perimeter. His casual gait appeared to be that of a someone out for a late-night walk. She knew the moment he sensed her by a subtle shift in the angle of his path.

“You sensed me from a pretty good distance,” she said.

He smiled down at her. “Always checking out my abilities, aren’t you?”

She pursed her lips in pleasure. “Always questioning my motives, aren’t you?”

He playfully flicked a strand of hair off her cheek. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Anytime you want to check out my abilities, you let me know.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re calling that ‘abilities’ now?”

He handed her something small, and said, “Skills, then. I brought you something.”

Foil wrapping caught the light. “How’d you know I like dark chocolate?”

“I saw the wrapper in your trash the night we had pizza,” he said.

She slipped the candy into her mouth. “Thanks.”

He snorted. “What? No ‘how dare you look in my trash’? Or where else was I snooping?”

She crumpled the wrapper and poked him in the shoulder. “I’m not that bad.”

He leaned closer. “You’re badder.”

She laughed. “You don’t give up.”

“Are you telling me to?” he asked.

She pursed her lips through a smile. “I’m not telling you anything.”

They stood in amused, almost bashful silence. Laura broke eye contact and glanced down toward the street. As she faced him again, he put his hands on her waist and lowered his lips to hers. She closed her eyes. His lips covered hers, a warm, soft pressure that didn’t push for more. She returned the kiss, then eased away. She glanced over his shoulder as a faint dark blue spot appeared in the sky. “He’s coming.”

They watched as Terryn dropped out of the sky, landing effortlessly next to them. Laura felt uneasy as Terryn’s gaze shifted back and forth between them, as if he wasn’t approving of something. “My apologies for being late. There were some last-minute details on security for Cress.”

“No problem. We were necking while we were waiting,” Sinclair said.

In the long pause after he spoke, Laura fought feeling self-conscious. Even though by now Terryn knew he said things to provoke reaction, she knew that Terryn wasn’t a fool. He had to know she was interested in Sinclair. “Why are we meeting here, Laura?” he asked.

She looked toward downtown. “Privacy. Too many eyes are on you right now, Terryn. From here, I was able to watch if you were followed.”

“And why would that be a concern?”

She hesitated. Coming right out and saying what she was thinking was going to be difficult. She decided to avoid it for the moment. “I’m close to accessing the files at Legacy.”

Terryn ignored Sinclair. “Is Genda monitoring the case?”

She shook her head. “She thinks I’m closing it down. She wants me to focus on Draigen.”

“Has she made any unusual requests?” he asked.

“Not particularly, although she’s complained that you don’t keep very good files.”

Terryn considered. “We need to keep her distracted until I return.”

“How’s the vacation going?” Sinclair asked.

Terryn’s body signature shifted, a flash of essence that Laura knew meant anger. Terryn leveled a cool gaze at Sinclair. “I begin to tire of your disrespect, Sinclair. Don’t push me further.”

Sinclair slid his hands in his pockets. “Or what? You’ll tell Rhys you’re doing an end run around the successor he had them pick for you? Or that you’ve been employing agents off the books? Or that you’re running your own op outside channels?”

Terryn stepped toward Sinclair. Sinclair dropped the cocky grin. “Come on, big guy. Take a shot. Just remember, you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”

Laura held her hand on Terryn’s chest. “He’s immortal, Jono.”

Sinclair shifted his eyes toward her, then back at Terryn. “Fine. The rest of my life.”

“Are you boys done? Because I have work to do,” Laura said.

Terryn moved away. “What’s your report, Sinclair?”

Sinclair glowered, not speaking. Laura elbowed him gently. “They have a crew doing urban-assault exercises,” he said. “There’s an old warehouse complex about fifty miles west of the city. They’re training us for something but haven’t said what.”

“How many?” Terryn asked.

“Several dozen. Maybe a hundred people total.”

“Fey or human?”

“All human,” he said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Laura said.

“Bullets work very well against the fey,” Terryn said.

She paced in thought. “Even so, they’ve got to know we’re on high alert. If they’re planning another assault against Draigen, men with guns against Inverni Guardians is a big tactical disadvantage. We’re missing something.”

“I agree. The answer might be in the Legacy files. How soon can you acquire them?” Terryn asked.

She had hoped Moor would come through with the information when she calmed down. She hadn’t. An idea drifted through her thoughts, one that she had threatened Fallon Moor with. She had bluffed about seducing the information out of DeWinter. It could be a shortcut, one she didn’t want to take. She avoided looking at Sinclair, as if he could read her thoughts. “I’ll speed up the timetable as best I can.”