Page 17 of Inextricably Tied

“He tried to, but his coworkers found him annoying. His sales weren’t very good, but he acted like they were. Thought he was the smartest person in every room.” Harbinger’s helmet scans the document. “He was a printer salesman.”

Agony’s eyes roll. “Riveting.”

Flint checks the mirror again. “Means he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“He sold to middle and high schools, which was the last place a lot of the girls were seen.” Harbinger looks back to Agony. “So tell us what else you know.”

“Would that I could, little death.”

Flint glares in the rearview. Agony’s attention drifts out the window, imagining a stick figure running beside them.

“You have more information than I do. I only got random shit from his life to torture him.”

“So how were you made?”

Agony wonders if Harbinger narrows her eyes behind that helmet. If her brow furrows. If she keeps her expression schooled. What it would take to get a reaction from her.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he answers. “But technically, I was made to torment Reid. I’m a hero.”

Flint snorts. “Unlikely.”

“I’ve paid my debt to society.” Agony lounges back across the seat. “Didn’t see you torture a serial killer for years.”

“Didn’t stop him from killing those girls.” Flint’s words lash toward the backseat. His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Maybe you caused it.”

Harbinger’s helmet ticks toward him. “Flint.”

Flint doesn’t apologize. But he does flick on the turn signal, gaze lingering over his shoulder longer than it needs to. “Make sure his cuffs are still locked.”

Agony holds up his wrists before Harbinger can turn. “What, don’t trust me?”

Neither of them answers.

Agony keeps his eyes on her, waiting for another glance at the pallid curve of her neck. “What’s with this banshee business, anyway?” The light of his face reflects in her helmet, smile curling. “Don’t tell me you touched me for business, not pleasure.”

It’s impossible to see how his words affect her, but an undercurrent skips through him. Barely noticeable, submerged, rippling to the surface of their connection.

“Business.” She turns her face away, helmet catching Agony in her periphery. “And not intentional. I’ve never read something like you before.”

He gasps. “I was your first?”

“We need to stop somewhere,” Flint interrupts. The puzzled current from Harbinger snaps, her focus back to the present. Back to Flint. “We should eat before it gets late. Find a motel that’s not too seedy before it’s dark.”

“Fuck it.” Harbinger kicks her boots up on the dash. “We’ve got OID money now. They can spring for someplace with room service and a suite.”

For the first time, Flint glances willingly toward Agony. “They said you don’t eat.”

It’s not a question, pulled out of Flint like a forced pleasantry. Agony loves the sound of it.

“And you’re going to believe the OID? After they lied to you?” Agony clicks his tongue in disappointment. “I didn’t want any of their bland shit. I want to try sushi. I’ll let you feed me.”

Flint fights a sigh as they take the next exit. Harbinger scrolls on the cell phone — one they share between them, by the looks of it. After a few swipes, she hums to herself. “They have pre-made sushi at the grocery store.”

“Come on,” Agony boos. “You want my first time to be from there?”

“They have it at the gas station, too.”

Agony groans.