Page 20 of Shadow Secrets
“What?”
“The fan accounts. The ones that made Ginger and me into a romance. Jesus, she was sixteen. I was her detail. And there were grown women online writing fan fiction about us, arguing in comment sections that they were better for me, or hoping I’d wait for her to grow up.” His jaw flexed.
Sutton pressed her hands into her armpits, trying to keep them warm. “People are stupid.”
“And now they’re rewriting the story. Grieving her—sincerely, some of them. But also using her death to resurrect the narrative they built around us.”
“You have to ignore it.”
Sebastian looked at her for a long moment. “She reminded me of my sister Charlotte when we were kids. Ginger, like Charlotte, was a teenager who talked too much, broke protocol, and made me laugh. I protected her because it was my job, and because I liked her. That’s all. That’s the whole story.”
The wind picked up. The aspens rattled.
“When they find you,” she said, “what will you do? Disappear again?”
He turned to face her fully. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to leave again. I thought I might, but I’ve realized this is where I want to be. I’m doing a job I love.” His voice went quieter. “I’m going to stand my ground unless it compromises SPS. I won’t do that to the others.”
“Compromises them how?”
“Most of these guys have backgrounds like mine. They don’t want publicity any more than I do, and they don’t want people digging into their past. That’s one of the reasons we use callsigns—it keeps our true identity a secret from those who hire us. And being a bodyguard requires a certain level of anonymity. We blend into the background, not call attention to our principal.”
“That’s a lot to put on your shoulders.”
“It’s the truth.”
Guilt ate at her. She’d caused this. “Please don’t leave.”
His brows crashed together.
“I know you’re frustrated and scared, but don’t leave yet, okay?”
Slowly, he exhaled, seeming to register her fear. “I’m not going to leave you.”
She uncrossed her arms and let her hand brush against his as they stood side by side in the wind. His fingers caught hers for the briefest second before he let them go.
Acknowledgment. A truce.
They walked back to the building together. Somehow, she needed to figure out how to fix this.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sebastian
The argument lasted twelve minutes.
Sebastian knew because he glanced at the clock on the briefing room wall when it started—Sutton saying “I’m going” with the flat certainty of someone stating a natural law—and glanced again when it ended, which was the moment he realized he was going to lose.
The team was assembled around the table. Claire had laid out the operational considerations: Sutton’s apartment was a known location, meaning anyone who’d tracked Ginger to Blackridge could track Sutton to her studio above the laundromat.
The sketchbooks were a priority asset. “Speed is essential,” Sebastian said. “In-and-out, minimal exposure, controlled approach. We send a two-man team. CB and Mack. They retrieve the box, bring it back. Nobody’s at risk who doesn’t need to be.”
“The box is under my bed,” Sutton said. She sat next to him, arms crossed, chin level. Behind two storage bins and a suitcase. It’s a brown box with no label. There are six brown boxes under there. I know which one has the sketchbooks because I packed them. Your two-man team doesn’t.”
“They can figure it out.”
“They’re identical boxes. I bought them in bulk from U-Haul.”
CB, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, made a sound that might have been a cough or a laugh. Sebastian ignored him.
