Page 18 of Inextricably Tied

Under his breath, Flint grumbles to Harbinger. “We don’t have to get him sushi. We don’t have to get him anything.”

Agony narrows his eyes, but Harbinger keeps tapping on the phone with a shrug. “Well, now I’m in the mood for it, too.”

Flint’s lip gives the barest twitch of a smile, enamored. Agony lifts his brows, and Flint catches it in the rearview before he glares again.

SIX

Agony

After they pick up the food, the hotel they choose is immaculate. Arches lit, a doorman gesturing guests into the lobby, ceilings vaulted twenty feet higher than necessary. Harbinger leaves them in the SUV while she checks in. Agony almost has Flint answering in multiple syllables when she pops open a side entrance.

The partners don’t turn their backs on Agony in the suite, with its curving couches and views of the city. Flint cuffs Agony to a chair in the main area, ankles locked against the legs with a strap across his chest. Agony’s tempted to fling himself onto the floor for some action, but Flint captures his attention instead, moving from one room to the other and flicking on the lights.

“Paranoid?” Agony calls.

“Attentive.” Once Flint’s satisfied they’re safe, he adds a portable lock to the front door.

Agony nods to himself. “Paranoid.”

Harbinger sets their food on the table, tugging restlessly on her gloves before Flint sidles up beside her.

“You don’t have to.” His voice is barely loud enough for Agony to hear, only understood from the strange frequency Agony gets from Harbinger. “I can keep him in a separate room.”

But Harbinger places her hands on the sides of her helmet. “I’ve already been inside him.” It almost sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, in a flash of rebellion. “What’s a little peep show?”

Her disheveled braid falls out when she pulls off the helmet, black hair shot through with a ribbon of white. She wrestles with the long neck of her catsuit, popping the high collar buttons before she sets the helmet on the couch. Her back stays to Agony, but in the far mirror, he gets a glimpse at her reflection.

Skin impossibly white next to places sunken and darkened like a skull. Under the hollows of her eyes, beneath her cheekbones, on the end of her nose. The pattern of her skin is skeletal, but bone protrudes through fat and muscle. She blinks white eyes, clouded as if there’s a veil over them, trained on someplace no one else can see. Between life and death: the place Agony comes from. The place she sank into with him.

For the first time, Agony wonders if he needs to breathe. “Wow…”

“Don’t be a dick.” There’s a deadly point on Flint’s words, the kind that sharpens when he talks about Harbinger. For a lingering moment, she meets Agony’s eyes in the reflection before she smooths out her hair.

“You do look like death.” Agony smiles. “Like you could kill me.” His fingers flex under the restraints. “I love that in a woman.”

Despite her scowl, the corners of her lips tip up. “Play your cards right, and you might find out if I can.”

She pulls back a chair at the table. Only then does Agony realize Flint is staring between them before he takes the seat across from her. They rip paper from chopsticks, plastic cutlery stuck into piles of rice and hibachi as Harbinger tears open packets of soy sauce.

“Is this a hand-feeding situation?” Agony rocks in his chair. “I’m not opposed —”

“We’ll feed you once we’re done.” Flint takes a bite with the enlarged fork he brought himself, as big as a kitchen spatula. “Unless you want to stick your face in it.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Despite Agony’s charm, Flint and Harbinger settle into conversation. It’s tempting for him to draw their attention again, but there’s something enticing about their relationship. Night terrors fade into the background of dreams, but with the two of them, Agony’s sure it would have happened anyway. Their voices are weary from hours on the road, but there’s softness in both their hardened faces. In Harbinger’s smile when she teases Flint. In Flint’s eyes when she taps through the phone. They talk in coded language, vague references Agony isn’t able to understand.

He doesn’t need to know what they’re saying to pick up on everything else.

There’s a barrier between them. Nothing physical: more like an idea. One that Agony felt last night as Harbinger slept. The wall between them is something she erected, and Flint presses against it, reaching around but never crossing it. Always aware of the boundary, the both of them. It’s obvious when Flint rests his hand against the table, close enough for Harbinger to touch…but she pulls her fingers away, eyes back on the casefile, discussing the next town they should hit.

Flint dabs at his mouth with a napkin, covering a wounded look. “All right, terror. You’re up.” He reaches for the food, but Harbinger stands instead.

“I’ll do it.”

Agony smiles. “Scared I’ll bite his finger off?”

She gathers the plastic tray, sitting back against the edge of the table. “I’m more concerned for you.”