Page 4 of Inextricably Tied

Her taunting teeth in his pointed ear are enough to make him shudder. He works his belt buckle back into place, checking out the window again. “How do you figure?”

Her brows hike when he glances back to her. Point proven. “You’ve seemed distracted the past few weeks. Even while I was sucking your dick.”

Shame swells in his cheeks. He tries to hide the emotion, even as he knows she can feel it. “For good reason. Neither of us want to go through what happened at the restaurant again.”

It’s an excuse. A way to rationalize how on edge he’s been since that day. In Flint’s dreams, he still sees it; their client squirming behind the counter. Harbinger’s brows knit in confusion. Then the panic in her eyes as she called Flint’s name the second before gunfire started.

No matter how quickly he’d pulled Harbinger to safety, it was a big dose of luck that kept them from bleeding out on the floor.

Harbinger’s voice cleaves into his thoughts. “Should I, I don’t know, learn some acrobatics to keep you entertained?”

“No! Gods…” Flint scratches at his beard. “It has nothing to do with you. Or…I guess it has everything to do with you.”

He rests back against the seat before he looks at her. Harbinger isn’t offended, tuned into him the same way they’ve been since they began this partnership. It eases some of the tension in his neck. “I know we’ve been careful since the restaurant. Taking the jobs with the lowest risk —”

“And the lowest pay.”

He winces. It’s true. But Harbinger moves closer, draping her legs over his lap and resting her arms on her knees. “I’m giving you a hard time.” She picks at a thread unraveling on the inside of her suit. Shit: they’ll have to replace or patch it soon. Another expense. “I know I was resistant when you suggested we take lighter work, but, I mean, hell. I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to get shot at again.”

Flint twists the end of her braid around a claw, following the strands of white woven through the black. Horns honk in the distance as a car runs a red light at the intersection. It draws his focus — even now, in the midst of their discussion about his distraction. He tries to keep his eyes on Harbinger, despite his body’s nagging reminder to make sure they’re not in danger.

“But we’re running low on cash,” Harbinger finishes. She tries to understand Flint’s concern, but a sigh escapes. The two of them have made ends meet for years, but getting picky with their cases means their finances have taken a hit. Flint’s being overcautious. He knows he is, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take risks for a bit of money. It’s not a simple thing to put them — to put her — in danger.

Unfortunately, Flint’s definition of ‘potentially dangerous’ has grown in the months since the restaurant.

“It’s just…” Harbinger won’t quite look at him. “The slightest thing sets you off now, Flint. Meeting in a secluded area? No thanks. Object too obscure? Try again. Paying too much? Next. Like your mind’s already whirring through worst-case scenarios before we make first contact.”

She’s not wrong. Lately, the smallest uncertainty grows into an intrusive thought for him. Harbinger has been patient. Understanding. But it’s no secret their funds are drying up. They skip lunch more often than not, sporadic nights spent in the backseat of the SUV instead of a motel room. Hell, money’s the reason they agreed to today’s meeting in the first place.

Not that Flint loves the idea. The OID has been on his back for years, and the way he fought back at the restaurant shined a spotlight on him. The bullets and shell casings, along with the restaurant’s malicious ties, were enough to clear Flint…

For that crime. Who knows what else the OID has dug up in the time since? Things from Flint’s past he isn’t sure how Harbinger would take.

“Maybe the OID will have something for us,” he sighs. Harbinger’s skeptical look says it all, but they both know they’re running out of options. She plucks at the fraying string again, lifting her eyes to his. “At least we’re together.”

It warms his chest. Words spring into his mouth — things he hasn’t been saying, things he wants to — but Harbinger’s eyes widen like she feels it.

“We’d better get going.” She swings her legs off his lap and climbs back toward the passenger seat, leaving him alone.

It’s always hardest after sex. When her body’s so close, a warm reminder of how much he has to lose. They’ve been partners for so long, but this added physical layer is new. Fragile. He told her the first night that he didn’t expect anything, and Flint can’t risk what they’ve built just because he wants more than he thought he did. Especially when Harbinger pulls away any time the feelings swell in Flint.

He gets a handle on his emotions again, pushing out the door and back into the driver’s seat. Harbinger slumps as the ignition cranks, flicking to a rock song on the radio.

“Let’s get this over with.”

TWO

Flint

They’re fifteen minutes late by the time they pull up in front of the OID building, an intimidating concrete structure at least ten stories high.

Flint checks the clock on the dash: sixteen minutes late. Which is extended by the checkpoints and haranguing they go through before they’re left in a meeting room on the ninth floor. Harbinger’s helmet reflects the fluorescents as she slouches back in her swivel chair, Flint standing behind her.

After a few minutes, the door swings open on Agent Tamneth, a blonde elf with a sour disposition on his pale face. Tamneth does his best to appear professional, chin lifted as he slots sunglasses into the pocket of his suit jacket. “Harbinger. Flint. Nice to see you again.”

“Wish we could say the same.”

Harbinger’s helmet muffles her voice, but there’s no mistaking her words. Tamneth prickles, but he knows better than to look to Flint for any help. Flint doesn’t even lift an eyebrow. Tamneth brushes past the tension, sinking into the chair across the table. “Thank you for meeting with us today.”