Word and Breath by Susannah Noel Page A

stepped over and gave Tava a casual kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the coffee.”

    Tava’s cheeks reddened, but Riana was pretty sure Jenson hadn’t noticed any sort of reaction.

    She followed him to the door of the apartment.
     
    “You’re going to work?” she asked, glancing over his striped tie and tweed jacket.

    “Where else?”

    “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’ve been thinking about it. If the Union suspects me, then they almost certainly suspect you too. I mean, you’re my only connection with the Front.”

    Jenson gave her a fond smile. “I’ve already considered that.”

    Annoyed by the feeling that he was condescending to her, Riana frowned and stiffened her spine. “I mean it, Jenson. If they kidnapped my sister, who knows what they’ll do to you?”

    “That’s the point. We don’t know what they’ll do or what they know. I need to go in or they’ll suspect me for sure. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

    “Jenson,” Riana persisted, reaching and touching his arm. “But what if—”

    “Enough,” he snapped, momentarily losing his easy insouciance. “You’re just like—”

    When he cut himself off, Riana asked, “Just like who?”

    “Nothing.” He shook his head hard. “Never mind. We’ve got it covered, Riana. I’m not alone in this. And neither are you.” His expression changed—softened—as he reached out to flip one of her messy braids. “I’ve got to leave. When we go to lunch, get rid of these braids.”

    The shift in topic came so quickly Riana just blinked. “What? Why?”

    “They’re too distinctive. And wear sunglasses or something. I don’t think you need a real disguise, but there’s no sense in tempting fate.”

    To her surprise, he leaned down and gave her the same friendly kiss on the cheek he’d given Tava. “It’ll be all right. We’ll figure it out.”

    Before she could reply, he’d left the apartment, gently closing the door behind him.
    ***
    Captain Largan was having another bad day. The whole month had been a series of them. Now he was getting pressure from the President’s personal bodyguards to close down the entire downtown section of Newtown on the afternoon of the big speech.

    It was a nightmare. He was getting flack already from local businesses about the unavoidable disruption to their commerce. The traffic issues alone were enough to make him sick.

    Why he’d ever wanted to be the Director of Public Safety in a city as large as Newtown was beyond him.
     
    He just wanted to do something meaningful. Something that mattered. At one point, it had seemed like the higher a position he held, the more his work would matter.

    That wasn’t the case—it was becoming more and more clear. The restrictions and obligations of his job, as well as the politics involved, tied his hands so that he couldn’t do anything that was genuinely worthwhile.
     
    When his secretary buzzed him and told him who was waiting to see him, Largan groaned out loud.

    This could only mean his day was about to get even worse.

    There was no use in putting him off though. Face him now, or the confrontation would be worse. So Largan said, “Send him in.”

    Then he straightened up in his chair and tried to compose his face into a semblance of a welcoming expression.
     
    Mikel strode in, looking annoyingly handsome, polished, and stylish. He had a way of making Largan feel even more rumpled and pudgy than normal.

    Largan was the superior here, however, and he refused to reveal his feelings. “Have you finished your assignment?”

    He knew Mikel hadn’t. If he had, he would have simply filed the report—not made a personal visit.

    He only paid visits when he was angry about something.
     
    “How am I supposed to finish my assignment when I’m subverted at every turn?” Mikel demanded. There was no heat in his voice—his tone, as always, was clipped and cool.

    Not liking the way Mikel was looming over the desk, Largan stood up. He