Page 7 of Inextricably Tied

Every alarm bell in Flint’s mind clangs. Harbinger keeps her helmet toward Tamneth. “Can you give us a moment alone?”

He straightens his papers before he steps out of the room. Harbinger doesn’t turn to Flint until the door clicks shut. Flint doesn’t give her a chance to speak first. “Absolutely not.”

“Hold on…” Her gloved hands lift in an attempt to placate him. She knows this is ridiculous. It stokes his indignation.

“No, Harbin! Are you joking?” It’s only once Harbinger places a hand on his that he realizes he’s shaking. From rage, or fear, he isn’t sure. A cup trembles at the other end of the table before he withdraws his hand and tries to calm himself. “You can’t risk gods know what for the fucking OID because they can’t handle an investigation.”

“I wouldn’t be risking it for them. I’d be risking it for the girls.”

Pain shuts Flint’s eyes, shallow breath scraping in his chest. Of course she sees it that way. Of course Tamneth has gotten to her bleeding heart, the one she hides before she rushes into danger. She’s so intent to keep everyone out of harm’s way before she flings her body at the nearest problem without a care for what it means for her.

“I know you want to help.” Flint opens his eyes and meets the reflective sheen of her helmet. Gods, if he could see her face…if they could talk, maybe she’d understand. “Will you open your visor? Please.”

He tries to keep the strain out of his voice, but from the way her body tenses, she hears it. She unhinges the skeletal jaw of her helmet. The jawbone falls open to show her face, eyes following him when he leans closer.

“I know you want to help,” he repeats. “But it’s not — “ He exhales through his nose, but Harbin doesn’t interrupt, mouth pressed in a thin line. “They don’t know what this object is. And I know you want to do right by those families, but you can’t help everyone to your detriment. You don’t know what this would do to you. How it might hurt you. You remember the restaurant…”

Her gaze shifts away from him. He doesn’t hold that day against her; he’s told her as much. But he hasn’t forgotten, less for what danger it put him in and more for her. How easily she could have been hurt. How quickly her life could have ended.

“I know what happened at the restaurant was a little reckless,” she acknowledges. “But this is different.”

“How?”

“Because it’s not putting you in harm’s way. Because they already have Reid in custody. We’ve been looking for something low risk with high reward, and there is…” Harbinger swallows like it pains her. “Nothing higher than OID money. And if we don’t help them, those girls will never come home. We both know that. You said it yourself; the OID doesn’t know how to handle an investigation. They’re out of ideas. This is one thing we can do — one thing that’s safe. One thing that can get us the money we need.”

“But it’s not worth it if you’re at risk!”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiles gently.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do: no object has ever harmed me, not even magical ones. No lasting effects. Hell, I might not be able to get anything off of it, anyway.”

Defeat swarms his chest. His shoulders fall. “I don’t like this, Harbinger.”

That’s finally enough to slow her. For her to take one of his hands between both of hers. “I understand.” Her fingers trace the back of his hands: chipping, discolored, and scarred from years of protecting her. “I’ve been trying to take things easier. To go slower. We’ve been cautious for months, but I can’t…” She takes a deep breath, eyes slipping shut. “I can’t leave those girls out there alone. Someone has to care about them. What’s happened to them. Someone who can do something. I can’t do nothing if I can help.”

He hates it. Strain is evident on his face, through the threads of his emotions flowing into her…but he can’t control her. Can’t keep her, can’t contain her if she wants to do this. It’s her choice. Her ability. Her body. Finally, he sighs.

“Fine.”

But it’s not, and he does little to tamp down on the turmoil swirling inside him. Maybe he’s selfish for wanting to keep her as close as possible — as safe as possible — but he can’t help the relentless uncertainty in his chest.

Her hands stop moving over his. Voice soft, crawling past the edge of her helmet. “You don’t have to come with me.”

As if it were a choice. As if leaving her on her own would ever be an option. “Of course I’m going with you.” His eyes harden on hers. “But if we do this, we do it our way. You let me set the terms. Agreed?”

She nods.

It’ll have to suffice.

Flint lifts his gaze toward the door. “You can come back in.”

No doubt Tamneth’s been listening, but he waits a few seconds before he opens the door again. Harbinger clicks her helmet back into place, and Tamneth stands at the end of the table.

“If we do this, you pay double our asking price,” Flint begins.

“Of course,” Tamneth agrees, “And —”