Page 53 of Agent Zero
Money’s easy.
She’d suspect he was some sort of con man if she hadn’t seen him move so fast.Almost blinking through space, and so quietly, not even a whisper.He was heavier than a man should be, even a muscle-dense one, and she had the bruises on the outsides of her thighs to prove it.High up, where he’d crouched over her, skin fever warm and his fingers clamped around her wrists.
She bruised more and more easily nowadays.And this morning, combing her brittle, fading hair, more strands were falling out.
Reese had a funny dull-bladed knife, and she hadn’t evenknownhe was armed before she woke him up.Plus, the unsettling memory of two dark blots on her apartment floor, souls fled and that awful reek, sort of put paid to the notion of con man as well.
Or gave it a more disturbing edge.Which would be better—con man or superspy?
Jeez, Holly, you sure know how to pick them.First Phillip, now this.Except they’re different as night and day.
Reese glanced at her, a brief flick of dark eyes, and returned his attention to the road.“There’s a cabin.”
“A cabin.”She flipped the gloves over, ran her fingertips along the stitching.“Okay.”
“We should get there before the freezing rain hits.The approaches are pretty easy to cover out there, and there’s?—”
Just hold on a second.“Wait.Whose cabin is it?”
“Mine.”Flecks of melted snow caught in his hair were drying rapidly.The car’s vents gave out very welcome heat.
“Yours?Then why were we?—”
“Or more precisely, one of my identities’.They trained us to stick our noses in, cover contingencies, make plans?—”
Us.“So there’s more like you.”Great.
“Probably not nearly nice as me.”
“Or as charming.”She supposed it couldn’t hurt to feed his ego a bit.“You outright flirted with that girl at the register.”
“Which one?”
The brunette, with the nose ring.“Can you tell them apart?”
“Are you jealous?”
It was almost like trading wisecracks over the counter.At least he could keep up.“Well, wearesupposed to be married.”
A ghost of a smile, and for a moment he was sharply handsome.“Holly, I’m trying to drive.You’re distracting me.”
“In what way?”
“Pretty much every way.”
Good.She tried not to feel pleased.“How many are there like you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?—”
“The last thing they’d want was us comparing notes, especially with that casualty rate for the infection.”
Now there was something new.“Infection?”And he’d said something aboutthe little bastards.
Was he...sick, too?
“Holly, please.”
