I managed to hold my ground only by reminding myself that Georgia Mason—the original—would never show fear in the face of a man who wasn’t holding a gun to her head, and maybe not even then. If I was going to deal with these people, I had to do it the way she would have done it. Nothing else was going to work. “You don’t seem surprised to see me,” I said, tilting my chin up just enough to be sure my sunglasses would entirely block my eyes. I didn’t want him thinking of me as a science project. I wanted him thinking of me as Georgia, and Georgia’s eyes didn’t look like mine. “That’s because I’m not,” he said. He looked tired. None of his Secret Servicemen were familiar—the only familiar face I’d seen among the guards was Steve, and Steve would probably have a job until everyone who’d been on the campaign was dead and gone. There’s something to be said for loyalty like his. Shaun took a step forward, planting himself beside me, and all but glared at President Ryman.
