“Hathaway’s office.”
Reece winced. “They’re going to be thrilled to see me.”
The government building’s lobby was instantly forgettable, with a worn blue carpet and a modest collection of couches and chairs. Two people were in the waiting area, paging through old issues of magazines, while a single security guard sat behind a desk with a high edge.
Grayson walked straight to the desk. “We’re here to see Pitney Adams.”
“No visitors today,” the guard said in a bored tone, not looking up.
Reece put his hands on the desk’s high edge and stood on his toes to peek over. The edge hid an assortment of security monitors, but it looked like the guard was actually reading a novel back there. Something with magic, judging from the cover.
Grayson folded his arms on the edge and leaned down. “It wasn’t a request.”
The guard finally looked up, first at Grayson, then past Grayson to Reece and Reece’s gloves. His nostrils flared.
Reece refused to be cowed. Hathaway’s bill wasn’t law; the guard couldn’t throw him out. Legally, Reece still had just as much right to be in this building as any other taxpaying citizen.
It just didn’t mean anyone connected with Hathaway was going to welcome him with open arms.
The guard made a show of going back to his book. “Adams is busy.”
“He’s still gonna see us,” said Grayson.
The guard snorted, and finally put the book down and got to his feet. He was tall enough to meet Grayson’s eyes, and in an exaggerated mockery of Grayson’s drawl he said, “I’m mighty sorry, son, but I’m afraid I can’t.”
If the taunt bothered Grayson, it was impossible to tell; his expression didn’t change as he pulled out his phone. But Reece’s hackles were up. “There’s no need to be rude,” he snapped at the guard.
The guard looked down his nose at Reece. “Let me guess: you think your boyfriend’s accent is cute?”
“And you think it’s an insult to call someone gay. If you have a problem with me—and you obviously do—have it with me and leave him out of it.”
The guard’s expression turned even more hostile. “Stay out of my head,” he hissed. “I hear things about your kind, working here, and now the one person trying to put a leash on you is dead. So yes, I have a problem with you and the way you can rape people’s minds.”
Reecehatedthat accusation. He flinched, just as Grayson looked up from his phone and said, “We’re done here.”
Reece couldn’t hear a single change in that flat voice, but the guard froze with his mouth half-open in response, doubt on his face for the first time.
The shrill ring of the phone on the guard’s desk made Reece jump. The guard snatched it up.
“McCarthy.” He listened for a moment, then blanched. His eyes went to Grayson, and he somehow grew even paler. “Yes. Yes, I understand. Yes, sir.”
The guard fumbled to put the phone back on the cradle, missing the first time with his trembling hand. “Adams will see you right away.”
Reece frowned. “You seem scared all of a sudden.”
Grayson met the guard’s eyes. “Tell the empath you’re fine.”
The guard’s eyes dropped to the desk. “I’m fine.”
Lie. Reece opened his mouth—then snapped it shut. He’d promised Jamey he’d be careful about his abilities in front of Grayson, and the guard wasn’t hurt, just scared, for no reason that Reece could guess.
The guard stumbled the ten steps to call down the elevator, and as soon as it opened, he swiped his security card on an inside panel before pressing eight for them. He immediately scurried away, eyes fixed on the floor.
Reece craned his head to look out of the closing elevator doors. It didn’t look like the guard was going back to his desk.
“That was all very chivalrous,” Grayson said dryly, as the elevator doors shut, “but I’m awful far from a damsel in distress.”
“Yeah, yeah, big tough Dead Man. You going to explain how you made this happen?”
