Mason stood and hugged me too hard, the way he always did in public when he wanted witnesses to think we were close.
“You remember my sister,” he said, turning to Maddox. “The one I told you about.”
Maddox stood.
That surprised me.
He did not smile much, but he nodded with respect.
“Ma’am.”
“Harper is fine,” I said.
His eyes flicked to my left wrist.
I had forgotten about the watch.
Old habit.
Black face.
Scratched bezel.
No brand anyone outside certain rooms would recognize.
His expression changed by less than a breath.
But I saw it.
Mason did not.
He pulled out the chair beside him and slapped the back of it.
“Sit, Harper. Tell the boys about your scary government cubicle.”
I sat.
The chair legs scraped against the sticky floor.
The Marine across from me grinned. He had red cheeks and a haircut so fresh the skin above his ears looked angry.
