Lynell’s not sure how long they’ve been on the road. There is a lot of traffic, but Zimmer never gets closer than ten feet to the cars in front of him.

It’s as if they’re carrying the president.

She turns back to Price. “Who are you?” she asks.

He laughs. “The question is, who are you?”

The car pulls to a stop. Price blows out a large breath, rubs his hands together and through his hair, and looks at Lynell. “Ready?”

“For what?” But he doesn’t answer.

The house is so grand Lynell feels like a speck on its sparkly clean surface.

There are four large, cream-white pillars in the front, framing the porch where two more large and muscular men stand. Each man holds three guns, two in holsters and one grasped in hand. Price leads her out of the car and holds her sweaty hand with his own as they walk, and if she wasn’t too preoccupied with what lies ahead, she’d find the mixture of sweat gross.

Zimmer walks in front of them and the bodyguard behind.

The house is a blend of white, cream, and gold. The window rails and weatherstripping are gold, giving them an untouchable look. The corners of the house are round and there’s a chimney on the far-left side.

Neither guard looks at them as they walk to the front door. Lynell attempts to ignore her surroundings, watching her feet as they climb the steps, to keep her anxiety at bay. The door is flung open before Zimmer even reaches it.

Lynell looks up and sees a man standing on the threshold, smiling. He’s wearing a blue suit with golden vertical lines, a gold pocket square, and a dark yellow tie. His hair is dark brown with flecks of gray and slicked back. Lynell notices the lack of guns and the way his clothes seem to pull tight around his midsection, as if struggling to hold in a gut that wasn’t always that round.

Lynell knows this man. She’s seen him before. The eerie familiarity makes her body feel cold but she can’t place him. It’s as if his name is right in front of her eyes but blurred just enough so she can’t read it.

“Zachary, my boy!” he says, holding his arms out. He sounds happy, despite the deep frown. “That took a while.”

Price lets go of Lynell’s hand and steps in front of the man. Price is probably four inches taller but still dips his head in a near bow. “I know, sir. I would say I was sorry, but it was quite an impossible job.”

The man—how does she know him?—scowls before grabbing his belly and leaning forward with a deep laugh. “Trained for twenty-eight years and you find Registering and bringing Lynell home an impossible job? One you weren’t even hired to do, mind you.”

Lynell perks up at that bit of news. Price wasn’t supposed to Register her.