Page 93 of Brass
“She’s learning fast.”
“She’ll need to.” His expression grows serious. “The next forty-eight hours are critical. After that, if all goes to plan, you’ll have breathing room. Space to establish the new cover, integrate into the remote operations model.” He pauses. “And figure out what is developing between the two of you.”
I don’t bother denying it or downplaying it. Ghost sees too much, and we’ve never lied to each other.
“Understood,” I say simply.
“One more thing.” He reaches into his pocket, withdraws a small object, and places it in my palm. A simple platinum band. “Part of your cover.”
I stare at the ring, its weight in my hand entirely disproportionate to its size. “Married?”
“Recently.” He hands me a second, smaller ring. “Background has you proposing last month in Barcelona. Practical reason for your relocation to Montana.”
Montana. The location is strategic—remote yet not suspicious, with plenty of privacy-minded residents and minimal surveillance infrastructure. The engagement cover provides plausible motivation for the move to a secluded cabin.
“I’ll make it work,” I assure him, pocketing both rings.
“I know you will.” He claps me on the shoulder again, this time letting his hand rest there for a moment. “Just remember the first rule of deep cover.”
“The best lies contain essential truths,” I recite.
He nods once, then descends back into the bunker, leaving me alone with two rings and a growing certainty that the line between cover story and reality has already begun to blur.
I find Celeste in one of the storage alcoves, sorting through clothing that Mitzy provided for our new identities. Her movements are methodical, and tension radiates from her shoulders. Her jaw set in that stubborn line I’ve come to recognize.
“Mitzy briefed you,” I say, not a question.
“Newly married couple relocating to Montana.” She doesn’t look up from her sorting. “Very convenient.”
I lean against the wall, giving her space. “It’s a solid cover. Minimal questions, maximum flexibility.”
“I know.” She finally meets my eyes. “This isn’t about the tactical logic. It’s about…” she trails off, frustrated.
“About choice,” I finish for her. “About having your future dictated by operational necessity rather than personal decision.”
“Something like that.”
I withdraw the smaller ring from my pocket, holding it up between us. “For what it’s worth, this is just metal. The cover is just a story. What’s real is what we decide.”
She looks at the ring, then at me, her expression softening slightly. “When did you become the philosophical one?”
“Must be your influence. I was much more straightforward before you crashed into my life.”
That earns me a small smile.
“Try it on. For the cover.” I step closer, offering the ring.
She takes it, examining the simple band with its modest diamond. “At least Ghost has good taste.”
“He knows what suits you.” I watch as she slides it onto her finger. Perfect fit, of course. Ghost’s attention to detail is legendary. “How does it feel?”
“Strange,” she admits. “But not in a bad way.” Her eyes meet mine, the conflict in them evident. “This is all happening so fast. A week ago, I was chasing leads on corporate tax evasion.”
“And I was dreading Thanksgiving dinner with my mother,” I add. “Life changes fast in our line of work.”
“Our line of work,” she repeats, testing the phrase. “I guess it is now, isn’t it?”
Before I can respond, Jeb calls from the main area. “We’re set. Final briefing in five.”
