CHAPTER 6
A BALL OF paper flew
across the room as Laura entered Sinclair’s office. It hit the wall
next to her head and landed beside the wastebasket. Sinclair
crumpled another piece of paper and tossed it. And missed. Laura
watched as he balled up more paper. Neither spoke as she leaned
against the doorjamb, and he continued throwing and missing. Laura
poked her foot at the growing pile of paper. “Have you never done
this before, or do you just stink at it?”
He glowered at her and missed another shot.
She blinked her eyes at him, affecting an overly
enthusiastic attitude. “Maybe your aim will improve if you picture
the wastebasket as Terryn’s head.”
He paused, then threw a paper ball at her head. She
batted it away, and it landed in the wastebasket. “See what you can
accomplish with teamwork?” she asked.
He gave her grudging smile, leaned back, and began
tossing a small green stress ball straight up and catching it.
Laura let out an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re going to play with
yourself, I can leave you to it.”
“Ha-ha,” he said.
“He speaks,” she said.
He dropped forward and tossed the ball from hand to
hand. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
“It has to,” she said.
He stared at the ball as he passed it back and
forth. “And what if it doesn’t?”
She moved up to his desk. “Jono, listen to me. You
can make this hard, or you can make this easy. What you can’t do is
make it impossible.”
“Impossible? He forced me to join InterSec because
I figured out your real identity, Laura. I didn’t ask to be here.
Plus, he treats me like an idiot,” he said.
“And you do the same. Like it or not, he’s the
boss. Terryn will let you disagree with him. He won’t let you
insult him. You have to earn his trust. That’s what this whole
situation is about,” she said.
Annoyed, he glared. “I do not kiss ass.”
She spread her hands out. “No one’s asking you to.
Just respect the fact that he knows what he’s talking about.
Because he does. Believe me. If I didn’t trust Terryn macCullen,
I’d be dead ten times over.”
He tossed the ball up. “I don’t know if I like the
politics around here.”
She crossed her arms. “I think you need to learn
them before you decide that. The fey are complicated, but despite
what you were raised to believe, we’re not evil, Jono. There are
reasons Terryn thinks the way he does. You two probably have a lot
more in common than you realize.”
Sinclair snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m sure the
uncrowned heir to a throne can get down with my issues.”
She considered his point. As a fey/human hybrid,
Sinclair was unique. That was why his grandfather created the
spelled medallion for him—to hide his true nature. The jotunn knew
enough about the fey and humans in the Convergent world to know
that his grandson would have been poked, prodded, and tested.
Social integration moved slowly in most parts of the world.
Biological interbreeding would speed things up considerably, and
that was something many people would find appealing—and others
horrifying. “He’s got a target on his back simply because of who he
is, Jono. Sound familiar?” she asked.
He glanced at her with lowered eyes. “It’s
different.”
Exasperated, Laura slumped into the guest chair.
“Jono, give me one week of no conflict. Do the job we both know you
can do.”
He grinned. “Was that a compliment?”
She pursed her lips. “If I say yes, can we drop the
subject?”
He spun in his chair, then leaned on the desk. “If
I say yes, can we go out for dinner?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
He frowned. “Wait, I lost track. Is that ‘yes, that
was a compliment’ or ‘yes, we can have dinner’?”
She stood. “It was ‘yes, this conversation is
over.’ ”
His frown deepened into playful confusion. “I think
I’m a yes behind.”
She leaned toward him with a smug, playful smile.
“That’s because I’m one step ahead of you.”
He threw another ball of paper at her. She snatched
it out of the air and threw it back. “Do you want to review your
strategy with Legacy?”
He shrugged. “What’s to review? Show up. Act like I
don’t like the fey—which won’t be tough—take notes, and
leave.”
“Where were you born?” she asked.
“Philadelphia.”
She shook her head. “Wrong. Never use your own data
for a persona.”
“Persona? You’re going to make me a glamour?” he
asked.
“No, but you’re still undercover. That’s as much a
persona as a glamoured persona. You need to be convincing. You are
going to get to know these guys like friends. You don’t know how
long you’re going to be there. You need to create a credible life
for yourself that has no connection to who you really are. When
it’s all over, you don’t want to leave anything behind that might
lead to the real you.”
“The real me,” he said.
“The real you,” she said.
He cocked his head at her. “Is this the real you
I’m talking to right now?”
She blinked. Not the question she was expecting. In
the brief pause, a cascade of thoughts and emotions sped through
her mind. Yes. No. What? Of course. But . . .
He’s baiting me. No, it’s fair given the context. Ouch. Talk about
pushing a button. How dare he? Is he serious or playing with me?
Again. “Ha-ha,” she said. It was the best she could come up
with, and she felt stupid for it.
Sinclair’s measured look said he wasn’t sure how to
interpret the response. With a subtle flick of his eyebrows, he
decided to let it pass. “Okay, so I need a better cover than a
name.”
“Cress can help you build a legal framework in case
someone decides to look into your history. She’s good. Excellent,
in fact. Your job is to build the personality—who you loved or
hated, your favorite books and movies, what you like to eat. Drill
it into your memory and stick to it. The slightest lapse can be
trouble, so keep it simple but keep it . . .”
“Real,” he finished.
“Yes.”
A faint smile creased his face. “This is what you
do every day?”
She shook her head. “Not every day. Most jobs only
require an occasional appearance. Only deep cover takes over your
life.”
He laughed. “I’ve been driving limos every day for
two months.”
She smiled. “But you didn’t need a persona for it,
just a name. As Bill Burrell, limo driver, you’ve been interacting
with low-level Legacy staff briefly. The job doesn’t require that
you interject yourself into the workings of someone’s life. You get
to be Bill Burrell and go home at night. It’s different now that
they’re letting you in deeper. You become someone else. Start by
creating a job history. What did you do before you drove
limos?”
He pursed his lips. “Circus performer.”
She didn’t laugh. “Too contrived.”
“It was a joke,” he said.
She compressed her lips. “I know you think it was,
Jono, but you need to understand something. I take this seriously,
and you need to take this seriously. When you’ve proved you can do
the job, then you can joke.”
It was his turn to get annoyed. “I’m getting tired
of all this ‘proving myself’ bullshit.”
“It’s hard. I know. But it’s that way because the
stakes are high. A mistake can cost lives. Look what happened on
the road this morning. You have to show you won’t get yourself
killed. That’s the first step. Then you have to show that you can
be relied on not to get a teammate killed.”
“I didn’t ask for this. You screwed up, not me,” he
said.
She winced at the truth of it. “You’re right. You
exposed me. I didn’t know my body signature had a shape that
doesn’t change because I’m wearing a glamour. I never anticipated
that someone could sense that shape like you can. But I didn’t let
those mistakes get me killed. Now I’m trying to show Terryn and
Cress and whoever else cares that those mistakes aren’t going to
get them killed. And the only way I can do that is to help you
succeed at this. If you’re telling me you don’t want to do it, then
you need to decide whether you like your hell hot or cold because
Terryn will send you somewhere extremely unpleasant whether you
like it or not.”
“And you’re okay with that,” he said.
Sighing, she shook her head. “Not in the least, and
I will do whatever it takes to make it not happen.”
He smirked. “So you’ll have dinner with me?”
“Yes, as long as you understand it has nothing to
do with anything else.”
He smiled. “Night watchman.”
She smiled back and settled into his guest chair.
“Better. Now, let’s bring Bill Burrell to life.”