Page 38 of Love at First Sighting

I momentarily sigh in relief. This could all be Terra’s doing, and Marcus could have his hands completely clean.

But why would he come here if there was nothing in it for him?

If he had nothing to do with this? El’s sighting, Ian’s party, Marcus’s name on that stationery.

There are too many arrows pointing at him for me to ignore.

But…all the crafts in this room look like UFOs.

They look like the shadow that was looming in El’s video.

They look like the unidentified threat I swear I saw behind my dad’s car and in the sky before.

Sleek crafts with thin bodies and lights and buttons along the sides.

The surfaces are all so shimmery, and as I hover over one, my reflection stares back at me.

It’s not invisible, but it’s damn near close enough.

“Holy shit,” El says. “What is all of this?”

My heart’s finally stopped racing from our hustle across the tarmac, but now it’s speeding up again, like I’m drowning under heavy waves.

I’ve never assumed PIS was innocent. The government is full of branches and orders and chains of command.

Obscuring and bending the truth is our entire job.

There’s harm in discrediting, intimidating, and gaslighting the public, of course, but it’s for UFOs and aliens, for fuck’s sake.

How many people has PIS really hurt? Was my dad’s death just the tip of the iceberg?

“This is far beyond what PIS has. This looks like it’s all Terra’s doing,” I say.

“Then why is Marcus coming here?”

I rake a hand through my hair, and as I open my mouth to speak, voices echo outside the door. Fuck .

“Cover. Get behind cover,” I snap. El and I duck behind two stacks of crates on opposite sides of the hangar that’ll keep us out of sight. The door opens. Right away, I recognize Ian Forte’s smarmy British yapping. Who is he speaking to, though?

“You’re going to be impressed, chap. I promise you.”

The sharp click of dress shoes enters the hangar, along with the scent of cigarette smoke.

Marcus.

There are zero doubts about it.

I peer over the edge of the crate after they pass.

Sure enough, Marcus has entered with Ian, who is wearing a gaudy bowling shirt and oddly tight white pants.

He’s dressed for Palm Springs, all right.

Marcus, meanwhile, towers over him in his sleek black suit, collar practically shielding his face, hat perched on top of his head.

Marcus has never scared me. I feared stepping out of line, because I didn’t want to be a disappointment.

But now, as I’m crouching behind a crate, hands shaking, I feel like a kid again.

I’m scared because Marcus might be so far from who I thought he was. Scared because the proof is being laid out piece by piece, and I’m still thinking about the best way to clear his name in my conscience.

“This is the one?” Marcus says. His voice is a low growl that makes my bones chill.

“Correct. We’ve improved the Teflon cloaking plating, so it’ll be much harder to catch it on camera, and it’ll record video in 4K.”

El peers around the corner discreetly. She’s pulled her hood over her head, like she thinks she’s a secret agent. After tonight, she might have a serious career in it.

Marcus and Ian walk around the large craft to the right.

“We’re going to ship this over to Terra’s test facilities tomorrow, but here is your proof of product. We made the upgrades with the intel you passed along to us.” Ian spits out a string of technological words I don’t understand, and Marcus hums in acknowledgment.

“I’m going to want to see videos from the tests. I can’t risk another sighting. And take our damn logo off the drones. It’s a Terra device. Nothing else. The video that girl posted nearly blew our cover.”

“Hmm, yes,” Ian coos. “The girl . Funny you mention her.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

My blood runs cold, and I peek around the corner.

Ian breaks into a smarmy smile. “I didn’t put two and two together at first, but the girl who spotted the last test model?

She graced us with her presence at my launch party.

I find it odd that the girl everyone’s talking about—who saw one of our crafts and has brought a spotlight to our little operation—shows up mere weeks later at my party to cozy up to me.

I think she might be smarter than she looks.

Or she has someone on the inside helping her. ”

El’s eyes widen. While she’s panicking about me, I’m panicking about her. I’ve kept her case as vague as possible, practically letting it go cold on the PIS servers to mute suspicion.

“She can’t be on to us. You really think she can make that connection? She’s a model, Ian. She’s only thinking about her followers and pictures. Besides, we’ve handled her. One of my agents is on the case, and he hasn’t updated anything in weeks.”

“How much do you trust this agent?”

“I trust him enough to not go digging. It’s John’s son. I practically raised the kid—he knows better than to question me. He knows it won’t get him anywhere.”

“Oh,” Ian snarls. “You’ve chosen a dangerous pawn to play with, Marcus.”

“Even if he knows anything, the case is as good as closed. His dad’s file’s been gone for over a decade. There’s nothing left to find. You know how serious I am about protecting PIS’s interests.”

There they are. The words I hoped I’d never hear. I sensed it coming from the moment Marcus walked into the hangar. There’s blood on Marcus’s hands, and whatever he did, it’s enough that he destroyed all record of it.

I’m going to be sick.

“Mm,” Ian grumbles. “Lucky, otherwise an Instagram model might blow open the whole charade.”

Marcus and Ian stand in a silent stalemate. I can’t see either of them, but I can imagine the grit and grind of Ian’s molars, the cross of Marcus’s arms, the steel in his gaze cutting holes in Ian’s armor. It’s a showdown of two men with pride so heavy it could break through a frozen lake.

I replay the words in Marcus’s cold tone over and over again.

I’ve always known Marcus had control over me in many ways—he keeps my job safe when it should be gone, he keeps the older agents from really harassing me.

But those are things that benefit me. Now I’m wondering if I’ve been kept in the dark far more than I ever thought.

I wonder how many of my failures and how much of my lagging behind was by his design so I wouldn’t ever find out what happened to my dad.

My failed weapons tests and field training.

My eyes flood with tears, and an ache builds in my chest, and despite how many times I’ve told myself crying won’t bring my family back, it’s the only thing I want to do.

Pain is not meant to pile on top of more pain for this long.

“Lucky,” Marcus says, leading to more silence and a puff of smoke.

“As long as you’re happy,” Ian abruptly says. “You didn’t get a chance to try the new vodka. I have some in the lounge, if you’d like to come for a drink.”

I don’t hear anything, just the dull hum of voices over the adrenaline rushing through my ears. Not as the hangar door slams shut and we’re left here alone. Not until El breaks from cover and kneels in front of me.

“Carter. We need to go.”