#tess.doc

“To a night off,” says Markus, as their glasses clink.

“To not asking questions—”

“—and to you, and how beautiful you are when you’re keeping secrets.” Markus shoots him a grin over the rim of his glass and takes a short sip. The awful man, he seems to care nothing for how easily he can set Connor’s proverbial heart aflutter. “It feels nice not to have the itinerary memorized, for once. And to not have cameras following me around wherever I go.”

He casts a glance at the reporter sitting at a nearby table who, Connor’s cursory scan informs him, is harboring a tiny video transmitter in her cufflink. She’s sipping from her glass and appears to be paying them no mind, although she tenses considerably when Markus looks her way. “Not any visible ones, at least.”

“Do you think this’ll make it to the tabloids?”

“ ’Course.” A mildly exhausted smile tugs at Markus’s lips. “I can see it now. Jericho leader and ex-deviant hunter head out for a steamy night on the town. Simon will never let me hear the end of it.”

Connor arches an eyebrow. “Steamy?”

“Sure. Who cares for accuracy as long as it’s a good story?” Markus drains the rest of his glass—a standard 40% ABV, according to Connor’s analysis—and stands up, extending a hand. The reporter tries to shift as subtly as possible to catch a better angle.

“What are you doing?”

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