track of what we say out loud and what we don’t, since we’ll all be together for the next month or two.
He squeezed my hand. Together. I like that part. Even if we have to pretend we’re not.
During the drive I tried to pay attention to the political discussion between the Stuarts and O’Garas, though a couple of times it veered into territory that almost made me think about the Grentl. I scooted an inch closer to Rigel, so we were touching from hip to knee. That helped keep him from picking up any forbidden thoughts, even if it made Sean glower again.
The Stuarts had allowed extra time, so even with the awful Chicago traffic we got to O’Hare Airport nearly three hours before our flight. Mr. and Dr. Stuart came inside with us to spend the extra time with Rigel before we had to go through security. When Dr. Stuart finally hugged Rigel goodbye, with tears in her eyes, I felt a pang. What would it be like to have parents who loved me like that? She hugged me, too, but it wasn’t quite the same.
At security, I worried we might set off the scanners because of our Martian static thing, but none of us did. When Mrs. O handed out our boarding passes, I saw Rigel and I were in different rows.
“Um, shouldn’t Rigel and I sit together on the plane?” I whispered to her. “He’s my Bodyguard after all, plus it might be the last time—”
“I’m sorry, dear,” she whispered back, “but there are other Echtrans on this flight. You didn’t feel their brath while we were in line?”
“Oh. I, uh, no.” I didn’t mention that when I was with Rigel, I rarely noticed anyone else’s Martian vibe unless I was really paying attention.
When we reached the gate, though, I had no trouble identifying the Echtrans , even apart from their brath —two men, talking quietly together, both a little too handsome. In fact, when the taller one turned his head I had to stifle a gasp, he was so over-the-top gorgeous. Dark-haired and strong-jawed, he looked a bit like an older version of Rigel.
He glanced over and caught me looking, then whispered something to his companion. They immediately headed our way. Before they reached us, Mr. and Mrs. O’Gara both stepped casually in front of me while Rigel and Sean just as casually flanked them. Though I appreciated it, their protectiveness seemed kind of silly in such a public place, especially since the men didn’t seem at all hostile.
“I see we’re all on the same flight.” The super-gorgeous one’s voice was as amazing as his smile, low, smooth and assured. “Devyn Kane. The O’Gara family, right? I believe we met once, back in the, ah, old country.”
“Yes, of course.” Mr. O’Gara shook his extended hand. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been well. Even better these past months, of course, as I assume we all are.” His eyes flicked to me, where I still stood behind them, then back to Mr. O. The other man wasn’t as restrained, blatantly staring at me. Devyn glanced his way. “Have you met Gordon Nolan?”
“Pleasure.” The shorter, fairer man stuck out his own hand. “Pleasure. Would these be your children?” His gaze roved over Rigel, Sean and Molly before coming to rest on me again. I stiffened slightly. In addition to the usual Echtran brath , Gordon Nolan also had a faint whiff of what I termed “bad guy vibe,” something I’d picked up from some of Faxon’s followers last fall. This one would bear watching.
Got it, Rigel thought, edging a little closer, creating more of a barrier between me and the newcomers.
Mrs. O’Gara smiled back, not appearing to sense anything sinister. “Sean and Molly, here, are ours. These are Rigel Stuart—” She nodded his way— “and Marsha Truitt.”
Neither man showed any surprise.
“Hello.” I managed a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Honored, of course.” Devyn gave a very slight bow of his head, which his companion, still staring, echoed. “I regret we can’t greet
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