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HEATHERINGTON TALKSwith Powell before Powell storms out the door, letting it slam behind him.

“Bad mood?” I don’t care if Powell is miserable at the moment. I gently tease my hair out with tentative fingers. My hands still don’t want to cooperate, and my scalp is tender. It even hurts to swallow. I shiver as I recall the hard press of metal against my skin.

“Between you and me, the oversights that occurred are serious, and Powell was your handler. In this business, you have to trust your team, but... Well. Trust but verify, that’s my motto.” Heatherington sits on the edge of the recliner, his apologetic face turning embarrassed. “This is probably a bad time, but maybe it’ll give you a laugh. God knows we could use one.”

I grimace. “It would take a team of stand-up comedians to get me to laugh tonight, but go ahead.”

“Do you remember Agent Holloway?”

My face shows my confusion.

Heatherington prods, “The agent who stepped up and did your service?”

“Oh, him! He was very good. I almost believed it was real.”

Heatherington doesn’t laugh. “That’s because heisthe real deal. He’s a lay minister and licensed officiant. He took the online courses to get legally certified to perform marriages in the tri-state area so he could be the officiant at his nephew’s wedding this summer.”

The world tips.

Is this the sign I’ve been waiting for? The one I wouldn’t admit I want? “You mean Reggie and I... We’re legally married?”

“What?” Reggie's startled bark coincides with a clatter and splash.

I turn to see Reggie with a wet splash on his shirt, a plastic cup sitting in the middle of ice cubes, and a spreading wet stain on the carpet. “The man who married us is actually an officiant. Licensed to marry,” I inform him, my voice carefully calm.

“Right, but you didn’t have a marriage license. Just thought it was funny. If you’d filed for a license, or even a self-uniting license—”

“What’s that?” Reggie and I blurt in unison.

“Oh, it’s a Quaker thing, but a while ago the ACLU won a lawsuit so non-Quakers can practice it, too. Basically, if you have a self-uniting license, all you need to do is make your vows and exchange your rings in front of two witnesses.” Heatherington suddenly blushes. “Guess who helped Holloway study for his exams? I know more marriage trivia from New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey than you can shake a stick at.” He ends with a placating grin. “I don’t know if it’s legal in New York, but you were also married by a federal agent, so, maybe... I’d have to look it up.”

I force a smile in return. “I see. Well. That is funny. Isn’t that funny, Reggie?”

“Sure is. Look, Heatherington, Therese’s probably exhausted and feels dirty.”

I glare for a second, but he’s right. I feel like I’m caked in filth after being near those bastards and also from that cesspit of a motel room.

Reggie gives me a hint of a smile. “That’s how I usually feel after a mission goes sideways,” he mumbles with the cutest little shrug, wide shoulders suddenly hunched.

“If we could just have the clothing you’re wearing for fibers, I’ll be out of your hair. Oh, and speaking of hair,” Heatheringtonholds up a little baggy from his breast pocket, “let me have some.”

“THEY REALLY SHOULDhave done all of that at the scene,” Reggie says, turning on the shower.

“We weren’t at the scene.”

“True.”

Conversation that flowed in relief is now stiff and stilted. Confusion about the next steps hangs over us after Powell and Heatherington muddy up plans made based on instinct.

Reggie would tell you to trust your instinct, I scold myself, stepping into the bathroom after him, wearing one of his shirts as a makeshift nightgown-slash-robe since one of my few outfits is now in an evidence bag on its way to who knows where.

“Teri? You want some privacy? Or some help scrubbing up?” Reggie offers, one hand lightly brushing the back of my arm.

“I’m too sore to—”

“Honey, you never have to sleep with someone if you’re not up for it. Just telling you how I feel about it, in case Delgado or some other jerk told you a different story. I—I know you might not feel the same, but I love you. Care about you. That won’t change on my end, even if it has to change on yours.”

My eyes well up without warning. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same?” I whisper.