Page 16 of Love at First Sighting
“No!”
I dodge through tourists and people walking their tiny dogs in T-shirts and try to bridge the distance before she swings around a corner and I risk losing her. She peers back and picks up her speed when she notices I’m still following her. She sees me, but she does not see the giant man rounding the corner and barreling right into her.
With a shocked yelp, El stumbles back, but I’m there to catch her. I plant my hand on her waist as she reaches for something for balance. I catch a smooth brush of skin along the side of her hip, below her crop top, and as she turns around, we’re chest to chest.
And I miraculously haven’t spilled my coffee.
I do not think about her breasts pressing against my shirt as she gasps or how her fingers wrap around mine on her waist for security. I do not think about the sweet cherry scent of her lip balm and how good it would taste. I am not a stupid lovesick puppy. I am a serious government agent with a mission, and I do not have time to lust.
I step away and secure her upright on the sidewalk before there’s any chance for her hips to press into mine and we’re all in a terrible situation.
“Hi,” I say.
“Thanks,” she concedes.
We break away completely, but this time, she doesn’t run.
“You okay?”
“Obviously not!” she shouts. Tears spring to her eyes. “I got attacked by some—I don’t know, something. Everyone is telling me I’m crazy and that I’m doing this for attention. Now I’m being followed by the literal Men in Black—”
Within the world lexicon, the Men in Black are a mysterious entity with elusive lore and a blockbuster moviefranchise, but no one thinks we’re real. It’s why we don’tusethe term, really. We’re better suited as an ominous specter full of mystery. If El postedthaton social media, she’d be met with the same disbelief. I mean, look what happened to Dan Aykroyd.
“Whoa, whoa, take your voice down. I can’t have you blowing my cover,” I whisper.
“Blowing your cover?” she laughs. “You are dressed like some dude fromAngel City Noir.”
To be fair, blending in has gotten far easier since the show premiered.
“I’ve heard that before.” I cross my arms. “Get more creative, Ariel.”
“Don’t call me Ariel, Special Agent Carter Brody.”
I flinch at my full title. I don’t feel special. I feel like I’ve been led on a wild goose chase and like my failed assignments and evaluations weren’t flukes.
“You get your badge back?”
I frown. “Yes, actually.”
“Good.”
“You owe me a chat.”
She shuffles in place, looking somewhat like a petulant child. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Not even if I could help you?” I say.
“Nobody wants to help me.” I see the same fear in her eyes that was there in the first few seconds of the video. Whatever she saw, she thought she was in real danger. Whatever she saw may haunt her every night. It might be like what I live with—any semblance of flashing lights can send me into a panic spiral. It can make me feel like I’m ten years old again, waking up in a hospital bed with plenty of machines andneedles hooked up to me, but no dad. “Everyone wants to hear what I have to say so they can spin it into some hit piece. My sponsors want to know when I’m done going through this ‘complicated time’ so they can get my content. My roommate—fuck, my fucking roommate is going to throw me out, but is waiting until I’m ‘mentally stable’ enough for it. What makes you any different, Special Agent Carter Brody?”
This is the time to turn off the agent act and be myself. I’m going to get further as a regular man than a Man in Black. El eyes the cracks in my armor—all the places my facade has slipped. There’s no black jacket, no hat, only rolled-up sleeves and a pair of dirty Converse.
What I need is to show El that she is the closest connection I’ve had to the worst night of my life in fifteen years, and my only shot at answers might lie in the video she took.
“I believe you,” I say. “I believe you because I saw thesameexact thing just before my dad was killed.”
Chapter 5
El
