Jamey irritably reached for her phone, planning to call Stensby and get more answers.
Her lips pressed together as she saw she had no signal. Again. Like she’d had no signal at any of the other places she’d gone.
She’d been off-the-grid all day.
This didn’t feel right. Forget the rest of the list; Jamey was going back to Port Angeles. She climbed into Liam’s car and pulled back onto the empty highway. As soon as she had a signal, she was calling Aisha, and Reece didn’t need to know about her calls behind the wheel.
About thirty minutes into the drive, her phone went off like a college band after a touchdown, a flurry of notifications hitting all at once.
Well, shit.
She grabbed her phone to find missed texts from Liam, Aisha, and someone named Kenji.
And one very ominous message from Grayson.
I think we were set up.
CHAPTER TEN
Ten Signs Your Date Might Secretly Be an Empath
1. They wear gloves indoors (although bear in mind that it IS a chilly December).
2. They pass on the hard drinks but can’t get enough sugar.
3. They listen when you talk about your feelings. (Okay, yes, all your dates should be doing this but you know they don’t.)
—EXCERPT FROM AN ONLINE LISTICLE
The steak housein the Leviathan Hotel’s lobby, the Ranch, was all dark woods and glass, more reminiscent of a wine cellar underground than anywhere outside. A tasteful sign had been set up in a glass stand at the front:Welcome to our AMI guests! Join us in the Live Oak Room.
As Gretel and Alex waited for the hostess to return, he pointed up above the sign. “We’re on camera.”
A small black circle with a red dot was set into the ceiling. Gretel grinned. “Should we pose?”
“Great idea,” Alex said, like he thought that was funny. They put their heads together and looked up at the security camera, waving.
A woman cleared her throat. Gretel turned back to see the hostess watching with a very blank expression. Gretel should have been embarrassed, but being around Alex made her want to drop her masks and just be who she was for once: an obsessive oddball who’d quit regular journalism to run one of the country’s biggest empath blogs. Why did she try so hard to seem like a normal person?
“We’re here for the AMI party,” Gretel said.
“Follow me,” the hostess said.
They were led to a side room with a private bar, where about twenty of Beau’s AMI cohorts were already standing in tight knots around the small space. The waiter came by with a tray of champagne. Gretel grabbed one of the flutes and used the distraction to lead Alex over to the wall. “My dad is a huge talker and bragger,” she said in a low voice. “We just need to get him going.”
Alex nodded. “Who’s the cop?” he asked.
Gretel followed his subtle gesture to the bar. The police officer who’d been at the AMI meeting on Friday was here again. “Officer Stensby,” said Gretel. “He’s started coming to all kinds of AMI events. My dad loves it; he’s always bragging about all the cops and military types who join AMI.”
She sipped the champagne, bubbles tickling her lips. Not everyone in America got to feel safer around the police; some people had to worry about the cops even when they were just living their lives and not breaking any laws. Just one more thing she couldn’t help but notice these days.
She watched her dad move through the room, shaking hands. When he reached the closest group, she darted forward. “Dad.”
Beau blinked in surprise. “Gretel? I wasn’t expecting you here.” He eyed Alex with a confused stare. “Or to bring a date.”
“Alex is a journalism major at Rainier, interning at theEmerald City Tribune,” Gretel lied easily. Her dad didn’t have much respect for bloggers, no matter how successfulEyes on Empathswas; he’d be more open if Alex met his standards forrealreporter. “He’s doing a piece on that break-in at Stone Solutions last month.”
“That’s right, sir,” Alex said earnestly, Southern accent in full effect. “How the heck did an empath get in? Stone Solutions must have state-of-the-art security.”
