—online review of McFeely’s
They were pulling up to a curb in Pioneer Square an appallingly short time after Reece had vomited onto the shoulder of I-5, far sooner than they would have been if Grayson had an ounce of respect for traffic laws.
As Grayson stopped the truck and shifted gears into park, Reece glanced down automatically. He narrowed his eyes. “Move the truck.”
“We’re just—”
“Now.”
“But—”
“You know what you did.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, eyes fixed forward, Grayson put the truck in reverse and backed up until his front bumper no longer infringed three inches into the yellow curb in front of the fire hydrant.
Next moment, Grayson had opened his own door and elegantly slid down from the truck. He’d already pulled his winter coat back on by the time Reece had leaped down and met him at the front of the truck.
Reece gestured at the coat. “Why do you need that? We’re only walking half a block.”
“Half a block in half-frozen rain. Maybe I wouldn’t need the coat if I still had ahat.”
Oh. Right. Oops.
Grayson didn’t ring the bell this time, just opened the door himself. Diesel was just inside, chatting with a pair of women.
“You’re back,” Diesel said to Reece, as they passed on their way toward the stairs. “Change your mind about the job?”
“Not likely,” Reece said.
“Shame,” said Diesel. “I like your sister too.”
Reece lit up. “Jamey’s here?”
He darted around Grayson and tore up the stairs, and as he cleared the top he saw Jamey heading their way.
Reece reached for her, but she was faster, her arms already closing around him. He buried his forehead against her shoulder and hugged her back. “Grayson wants—” he started.
“I know.”
Her grip was so tight he could barely breathe. “I have to go,” he said, knowing she’d hear him even over the music. “I have to let them take me; I’m dangerous.”
She put her cheek to the top of his head, her body tense as a bowstring. “They told me it’s not a prison, it’s a safe house,” she said. “If that’s a lie, I’ll come for you.”
“You will, I know you will,” he said. “Andthatis the truth. You can take it from me.”
With one last, desperate-edged squeeze, she let him go. As he lifted his head, for a split second he caught Grayson’s gaze lingering on them, unreadable as ever.
But then the moment was gone as Jamey said, “Where are your gloves?”
Reece winced. “Tacoma?”
She opened her mouth, then shook her head. “I don’t want to know.” Her gaze lingered on him, or at least on the University of Texas logo emblazoned across his chest. Her lips quirked up. “Nice hoodie.”
Reece folded his arms, the sleeves covering his hands.
“Status?” asked Grayson, as he shed his heavy coat in the warm club.
“Egner’s an incompetent jack-off. Fake empaths are mesmerizing Seattle’s bankers. Most of this club wants the bouncer. I assume that’s business as usual for everyone.”
