Then the sound of sirens up ahead had his gaze snapping forward.
Fuck fuckfuck. There were the cops.
Reece made another left, careening back downhill toward the water. Maybe he could lose them all in the traffic and narrow streets near Pike Place—
At the bottom of the hill in front of him, a delivery truck pulled forward even as the light changed, blocking the whole intersection.
A flurry of thoughts went through Reece’s mind in the space of a heartbeat.
The F-150 is big and it’s blocking the Smart car’s view—
Grayson can’t see the delivery truck and he’s barreling downhill with a Hayabusa engine and stock brakes—
You can swerve at the last second but he won’t be ready to match you—
He’ll be fucked—and all you have to do is keep straight.
Reece tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
And then, in the second heartbeat, he yanked the steering wheel right.
The truck’s tires screeched as he turned into a narrow alley, fishtailing dangerously but not flipping. Reece tore down thealley, a local shop’s outside racks of clothes and tourist knickknacks flying up around him as he knocked them down with the wide truck.
At the end of the alley, he shot across the street and into a parking garage entrance, taking off the red-and-white-striped barrier arm like a bowling ball cutting down pins. His tires screeched again as he sliced through the garage, then took out the second barrier arm as he popped out onto the street on the other side.
He turned right again and floored it. A moment later, he was up the ramp and on I-5, with the cops and Grayson and the Smart car nowhere to be seen.
One moment, Grayson was chasing the F-150 downhill.
The next, Reece had suddenly cut right, down an alley meant for pedestrians.
And as the F-150 disappeared, Grayson could see what was at the bottom of the hill: a delivery truck, blocking the intersection.
He slammed on the brakes. The Smart car squealed, and Grayson had just enough time to swerve to the opposite curb right before the base of the hill.
He screeched to a stop, eyes fixed on the delivery truck. He took a breath. Then another.
If he’d hit his brakes only a second or two later, he wouldn’t have stopped in time. His tiny car would have gone straight into the side of the delivery truck.
And he never would’ve seen the truck in time if Reece hadn’t pulled the F-150 out of the way.
Around him, people were honking, the delivery truck only just now inching its way out of the intersection. He could still hear the sirens of the police cars, maybe responding to the APB that had been put out on the F-150.
Grayson ran a hand over his face, his heart beating unusually fast.
“Reece,” he said out loud, a little helplessly. “I don’t understand.”
In the console, his phone began to ring again, Vivian Marist’s name on the caller ID. Grayson picked it up. “Grayson.”
“Evan.” Marist sounded like she’d had a terrible shock. “You have to get to AMI headquarters right away. It’s Beau Macy and his wife, Adele. Reece Davies killed them.”
Chapter Thirteen
Congratulations on your promotion to director, Emily! Stone Solutions leadership has been watching your career for a while now. Your dedication to our vision is appreciated.
—Three-year-old corporate e-card sent to Emily Lowe
With St. James and Liam flying back up to the safe house to check on Diesel and Dr. Easterby, Grayson had sent a message and made his way alone to the high-rise that housed American Minds Intact headquarters. The AMI store on the ground floor still had a Closed for Repairs sign on the door.
