“Tell me everything,” she said, and turned away, crossing the street back to the SVMC parking lot and her car.
Chapter Fourteen
What do I know about the Dead Man? Rumors, and that’s it. I don’t even know the full story of how he became the Dead Man; I’m not sure there’s anyone left alive who does.
—internal note from FBI Assistant Director Jacobs
Reece was immensely grateful to be back in his own car and see Stone Solutions’ gaudy office tower get smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror. He didn’t even have a destination in mind as he drove, happy just to put some distance between him and that awful box.
“Pull into the first drive-thru or gas station you see.”
Oh. Apparently, Grayson had a destination planned. “You eat? Something besides brains and the flesh of the living, I mean.”
“I’m getting coffee.” Grayson had pulled off his hat—and immediately checked his hair in the visor mirror, Reece hadn’t missed that—but he still had his scarf around his neck.
Reece reached over and turned the heat up to full blast. “I knew it couldn’t be real food. That would make you seem almost human.”
Grayson’s gaze flicked to the heater, then to the road. “So what happens when you run out of zombie jokes?”
“I will never run out of zombie jokes.”
From its safely secured spot in the console, Reece’s phone rang. Grayson cleared his throat. “Should I—”
“No, you shouldnotanswer my phone,” Reece said. “Whoever it is will get my auto-response.”
“Igot your auto-response. I’m offering to spare them. To show them someempathy.”
“Nice try,” said Reece. “But no.”
The car was silent for a moment, the city rolling past.
“I gotta ask,” said Grayson, “do you even let the folks you’re dating get that auto-response?”
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but I’m a bit high-strung,” Reece said. “Just a touch of anxiety. A dash of nerves. I can see how you missed it, I’m subtle, I know. So you may also be surprised to hear that people are not lining up to date a wildly annoying pacifist with biweekly breakdowns.”
Reece’s phone rang again. Grayson made an aborted move toward the console; Reece held up a finger in warning. “Don’t you dare.”
Grayson put his own hand back in his lap with something almost like reluctance. “Did someone call you that?”
“What?”
Grayson made air quotes. “Wildly annoying.”
“Whohasn’tcalled me that?” said Reece.
“I haven’t.”
Reece opened his mouth, then closed it.
“If someone’s ever bothering you, you should tell me about it,” Grayson said casually.
“Why? You’re theDead Man. What are you going to do about someone bullying an empath?”
“You just let me know if it happens,” Grayson said, like that was any kind of answer.
A few minutes later, Reece pulled into a coffeehouse drive-thru. Grayson held up a credit card without looking up from his phone. “Your hands are still shaking. Get yourself some kind of sugar bomb too.”
Wait. Had Grayson requested the stop for Reece’s benefit, not his own? “But—”
