Page 28 of Signed, I'm Yours!
He doesn’t pull away, which I take as a good sign.
What I can’t interpret, though, is why a tingly warm wave spreads through my body like a tsunami.
Like a tornado passing through a town.
Like a fire scorching through a forest.
It instantly makes me lightheaded and leaves me gasping for air.
“Why does this feel as if I’ve just had a sex marathon?” I ask him.
Seojun winces and pulls his hand back but doesn’t get very far. And he certainly doesn’t break the contact.
“Eww. Youarea creep!”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel that.”
He glances down at our linked hands, and I catch the tinge of red on his cheeks before it disappears.
“Feel what?”
He pulls away, and both the warmth and lightheadedness vanish. As if they were never there to start with.
Odd.
Very odd indeed.
And if my experience counts for anything, very,extremelysupernatural.
“Anyway. What I was trying to say”—I compose myself—“is that we don’t lock people up. Not unless they commit a crime. The majority of people we just let them be. And help them out if they need it.”
“Help them by digging them six feet under,” he says in a very childish manner that I know now is simply deflection.
“No. No digging. No locking up. No nothing. We help them train. Especially if they’re worried for their safety and that of others. Although now that you mention it, I did hear about this guy that could only breathe when his face was in the dirt, so they had to bury him to save his life.”
Seojun winces.
“So he’s just lying there, buried until he dies?”
“I’m pretty sure they helped him build a burrow.”
“Is that code for ‘bullet through the head?’”
“Why won’t you believe we’re not bad people?”
“Because.” He pouts.
I watch him for a moment or two. He’s quite something to look at. Perfectly smooth skin. Big brown eyes. A touch of eyeliner. Silky hair. A diamond studded droopy earring on one side.
He might be criminally inclined, but he’s stunning. No doubt about it.
“Right. I’ll show you then,” I say and turn to my computer, logging in to access the SPAM database. “What were the names again? Hana and Min? Can you spell those for me?”
Seojun considers me for a long, hard minute before he tells me, and I type the names into the system.
“If we’ve had any contact with them, no matter how small, they’ll be here. SPAM is a lot more paperwork than you think. Like, most of my time is spent reporting and filing what I do when I’m not reporting and filing.”
It’s actually such a common misconception about SPAM. People watch shows likeFringe,Warehouse 13,orX-Filesand think an agent’s job is super exciting, dangerous, and fancy.
