Page 17 of The Company

“Twenty-eight.”

“I’m only eighteen.”

“I know.”

He knows. Hmmm. But the look on his face as my age hangs between us captures my full attention. “Does it bother you?” He waits a few heartbeats before answering and this is my clue that yes, it does bother him. “It doesn’t bother me,” I add.

Fingertips guide my chin so my head turns towards him and then his mouth is on mine, his tongue probing, asking me to open, I do open. And this time I touch my tongue to his. He flicks against it and it feels… so good.

He ends the kiss and stands up, holding me in his arms for a moment before setting me down. “It doesn’t bother me either, but you’re tired. So I’ll walk you home.”

He holds my hand again, changing sides when we get to the highway, putting himself between me and the traffic like a gentleman. But we finish our walk to my building in silence. When we get to the wooden gate we stop so he can pull the rope and open the latch. “What’s your code name, Harper?” He looks over his shoulder at me, like he feels guilty for asking.

I stare at him, suddenly uneasy. Is this a trap? “You want to know this because you have a target?” It’s a bold question, but justified. If he’s here to kill me, I’d like to know. Even if he is wavering on whether or not to fulfill his contract.

“You’re not my target, OK?” But he doesn’t look me in the face when he says it.

“You first then.”

He smiles and holds the gate open for me and we walk down the path to the building, then head downstairs. I get my key out and I’m about to push it inside the lock when his hand rests on mine.

“Tet,” he says. “My code name is Tet.”

I look up at his face to try and figure out what he’s thinking. “Why did you tell me that?”

“What’s yours?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“You’re here for me, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head. “No, I swear it. I’m not here for you. But I need to know where you fit in. Code name?”

“I’m no one. Someone’s daughter, that’s all.”

“Code name, Harper.” His eyes are still soft, like he hates to ask, but he has no choice.

I swallow hard and bow my head. “Come. My code is Come.”

He lets out a long audible breath of relief. A small chuckle follows. “That’s a dirty little name for such a sweet little girl.”

I ignore his innuendo. “I could’ve been your target.” It unnerves me. The reality of what that means.

“You’re not,” he says sternly. “You’re not and that’s all that matters.”

“But I’m someone’s target.” He takes the key from my hand, but this time I put my hand on his and it’s me who stops it from entering the lock. “Where do you fit in?” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. It’s so taboo. We could both be killed for these few words. But just like he needs to know where I fit in, I need to know his place too. Come is a verb. A verb code name means I’m a nobody. But Tet, I’m not sure what that stands for. I know all the ranks, but I’ve never heard of a Tet.

He lets out a long breath and looks down at his feet, like he doesn’t want to tell me. “Number Six.” I shake my head and turn away, but he catches me by the waist and pulls me back. “Please don’t turn away.”

“Six?” I cannot even comprehend it. “Six,” I say again.

The organization my father is married to, indebted to for life—the same one he sold his children into when he joined, the same one that will take my children as well, should I live long enough to have any—is deeply compartmentalized. Everyone has a place. Everyone has a code. There are thousands of members all over the world. Most are innocuous. Verbs like mine. Come. Dance. Ride. Skip. They’re endless.

The higher-ups have nouns. There are hundreds of them. Bear. Desk. Claw. Grass. The names are meaningless, just a label to put you in perspective.

My father has a rank. The Admiral. There are twelve members with ranks.

But only ten people have a number.

The assassins.