He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been planning to say to the reporters if he found them. Or do to Beau Macy.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It was as if his emotions were slipping out of his control along with his empathy, and he was desperately grabbing for that fraying leash.
He pulled the soda close, and pointed to the beer in Grayson’s hand. “If I’m grumpy it’s because you’re drinking on the job,” he said, instead of admitting Grayson was right. “One of many reasons it’s a good thing I’m driving.”
Grayson took an unapologetic swallow. “It doesn’t do anything for me.” Another way he was like Jamey, then. She’d have to drink a liquor store to get a buzz. “And you’re not driving much longer. My truck’s on its way.”
Of course he drove a truck. Reece should have seen that one coming. “You talk on the phone while driving. I’m not going to be your passenger.”
“I can’t give you a choice.”
“But what am I supposed to do with my car?”
“Scrap metal, maybe?” Grayson said.
“My car works fine!”
“Except for the battery. And the passenger window. And the glove box. And—”
“Not my fault no one pays me piles of money to hunt rich dicks who probably jerk off to their own reflection.” Reece immediately winced. “I didn’t mean that.”
An awkward silence hung as Grayson took a slow pull from his beer. “As I said: Grumpy Bear.” He set the bottle down. “Relax, if you can. You’re safe, for the moment.”
Reece looked away, pressing his lips together so they wouldn’t tremble. He hadn’t meant to lash out, and now the smallest kindness was enough to make his eyes damp. “Safe fromyou, you mean?” he said bitterly.
“No one should ever think they’re safe from me,” Grayson said, sounding brutally honest. “But I am trying to make sure you’re safe from the rest of it. Even if your empath ass wouldn’t know danger if it handcuffed you over the hood of your car.”
Reece made a noncommittal sound. He didn’t know what to do with that, the notion he wasn’t safefromGrayson but was safewithhim.
“I’m not gonna lecture you about empaths and stress, I’m sure you know all of it already,” said Grayson. “But if I ask you to breathe for me again, will you?”
Across the table, Grayson’s face was as unreadable as ever, but he didn’t seem to be making fun of Reece. Even without discernable emotions behind it, the request felt genuine, somehow.
Reece took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. He repeated the process, tracing his glove through the condensation on the outside of his glass so that water beaded on his fingertip. “I don’t know why you bother to talk me down. Why would you even care what kind of bear I am?”
“I got my reasons.”
“Don’t you always.”
“They went into a sushi joint.” Nolan adjusted the volume on his headset as he pulled his SUV up to the curb in front of a fire hydrant.
On the other side of the phone, Stone asked, “Yokota’s?”
Nolan’s hackles went up. He wouldn’t put it past Stone to be tracking an FBI agent too. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” Stone sighed. “I’m afraid Agent Grayson is retracing my steps.”
“Yours?”
“I brought Hannah to this very restaurant last night. If I’d had any idea it would be her last meal—well.”
That sounded like real regret in the man’s voice. But Stone was admitting he’d seen the senator only hours before her murder. “Why did you two have dinner?” Nolan asked carefully.
“We spent time together often. It’s difficult to be a champion of a controversial cause,” Stone said grandly. “You stand alone while smaller minds chip away at your faith, unable to understand the bigger picture you serve. I tried to offer Hannah support when I could.”
Oh please. Nolan didn’t like empaths, but pretending anti-empathy was acontroversial causewas a ridiculous attempt at martyrdom. People were always eager to hate. Stone had shamelessly exploited fear and resentment to amass a personal fortune, and Senator Hathaway had done the same to keep herself in power.
Nolan could just make out the empath’s little Smart car beater up ahead. Stone and Hathaway were not the underdogs.
