“What about dinner?”
“Not hungry.”
“But—“
“Put it in the fridge. I’ll eat it later.”
I grabbed my bike and headed out the door, not even bothering to lock it behind me. The door only slightly muffled the sound of crying. I pressed one hand against the cool wood.
“I’m sorry, Jenna,” I whispered. But this is something you can’t help me with, and I can’t explain without putting you and myself in danger.
Every point she made was valid. What she hadn’t said, but what everyone in my family was thinking, was that I’d come back from Afghanistan changed. They attributed it to some form of PTSD or a problem with alcohol. They thought I was having trouble adjusting to civilian life again and that my job was a symptom of my problems.
They were wrong, but I couldn’t explain that without revealing what I was.
The number one rule of my new world was to keep its existence a secret. Breaking that rule meant death for everyone involved. Since I didn’t want to see my friends and family die, that meant sucking it up and letting them think what they would—even when it cut like glass.
My phone chimed, signaling a new text.
I dug it out of my pants pocket, thankful I’d had the presence of mind to grab it when I was getting dressed. Without it, I wouldn’t know what jobs Hermes assigned me.
The message said, ‘Come into the office. Now.’
Huh. Most jobs were assigned by text. It meant I only had to go into the office when I needed to fill out paper work which was rare. In fact, I think I’d only been into the office five times in the nearly two years I’d worked for Hermes.
Guess I was heading in.
*
Thirty minutes later, I parked my bike in front of an old brick building in the Warehouse District. The area was a little run down and many of the buildings around here were abandoned, but recently there’d been a resurgence of interest in this part of town. Luxury housing companies started buying up the warehouses and converting them into high end apartments. Young professionals were willing to pay top dollar for the open floor plans, exposed brick and old feel.
I doubted Hermes office building would ever be among that revitalization. Hermes’ owner, Jerry, was old, though you’d never know it to look at him, and he didn’t like change. That’s what I’d heard anyway. I’d only met him a handful of times since coming back to the city.
I walked around the building to a door with a keypad next to it. That was new.
This might be a problem. I didn’t know the code.
My phone chimed. The text message had 4649# on it.
Convenient.
I looked around but couldn’t see any cameras or people watching. Not that I really expected to. The few times I had met Jerry, he had really embraced the whole creepy ‘I know what you’re thinking before you do’ air of mystery.
I inputted the code and wasn’t particularly surprised when it lit green and the lock clicked open.
The inside was at total odds with the run-down exterior. The enormous expanse looked taken care of and well lit. Lights turned on one by one, highlighting a raised dais in the middle of the warehouse. Despite the fact there were no internal walls, the dais looked like any high-end office with a nice rug covering wooden floors, and several leather chairs arranged in front of a cherry oak desk.
I blinked, noticing the stern mountain of a man bent over the desk and the red headed woman standing next to him with an armful of papers.
My steps echoed in the wide-open space as I headed toward the quasi office. Neither of the figures at the desk turned to pay me any attention, continuing with their work as if they couldn’t hear my approach.
Reaching the dais, I paused, unsure of the protocol. There wasn’t a door to knock on, and it seemed rude to just step up onto the wood. Last time I’d been called into the office, it hadn’t looked like this. There had been actual rooms with walls.
“You may have a seat.” Jerry’s low base voice rumbled through the air.
I stepped up, my footsteps almost instantly muffled by the thick woven rug. There were four chairs to choose from. I picked the closest.
Jerry and his assistant, a woman I’d never seen before, kept working, leaving me fidgeting in my seat.
