“Nope,” Reece said firmly. “I heard too many stories from Jamey about criminals caught because of a busted taillight or other minor traffic violation. I will be driving safe and legal, thank you very much.”
“Suit yourself.” Alex’s amused drawl was less pronounced than Grayson’s, his voice more of a tenor to his brother’s bass, but still familiar enough to make more memories threaten to rise.
Hey, Care Bear—
Reece shook himself. Hard.Get it together, he snapped internally.You don’t have enough control over your emotional projection to think about Evan.
It was galling but true. Before corruption, Reece’s empathy had already felt like a bear on a fraying leash. Now trying to control his empathy was like trying to tame a whole damn sleuth of bears hell-bent on a rampage. Reece was blaming it on the newness of corruption, but Alex and Cora were starting to give each other knowing looks anytime Reece’s emotions rose. The absolute last thing Reece should do in an enclosed truck with the two of them was let his thoughts stray to a few stolen moments hidden in the trees off a Vancouver highway.
You want Alex to catch on?he berated himself.To realize that his accent is enough to remind you of his brother—the one you jerked off in the back seat of this very truck? How well isthatgoing to go over?
That sobering thought was finally enough to clear Reece’s head. He let Alex and Cora’s conversation become background noise as he followed residential streets south, eventually pulling into the drive of the mansion formerly belonging to Dr. Jason Owens, the now-dead director of R & D at Stone Solutions who had been partially responsible for the murder of Cora’s fiancé. It was an oversized house on an oversized lot at the end of its street, facing the water, with only the four-car garage and driveway visible from the road. It had privacy, plenty of space, and most of all, the three empaths had concluded it was the last place anyone would look for them.
As Reece idled for a moment, waiting on the slow rise of one of the garage doors, Alex said, “So what happened back there with Mr. Smith? I thought you were gonna add him to our collection with Misters Eton and Pelham. You said he’d be useful.”
His tone was curious, innocent even, and not at all accusing. Reece felt his defenses go up anyway.
“I was. But I choked.” There was no point in pretending. Alex and Cora could hear lies as well as he could.
“He might’ve recognized you,” Alex said, still mild. “Might tell folks he thinks you were there.”
“I know,” Reece said, through gritted teeth. “But I can’t get the damn projections under control.”
Cora made a sympathetic noise, one that almost could have belonged back in her therapist’s office. “Your empathy is just strong,” she said. “You’re working on it.”
“But when will I get there?” Reece muttered as he inched the truck into the garage.
He put the truck in Park, and the others jumped out. Reece stared for a moment at the back of the garage, his mind returning to Stone Solutions and his encounter with Smith.
They’d been in the hall on the first floor. Reece had lit the place up with rage—so easy when the corruption meant anger always simmering on the surface—then recognized Smith lurking in the security room. We should take this one, Reece had said to Alex and Cora. He’s head of security. He could be really useful.
But as Reece had started to step into the security room, his gaze had darted down the hall, back to the storage closet Smith had once stuffed him in. And suddenly he was remembering the fear the guards had had of him, the shame that he’d made them afraid, the guilt that he’d gotten Jamey sacked from her job.
And remembering Evan: how he’d come to Reece’s rescue, pulled him out of the clutches of Stone Solutions, bundled him into the safety of the truck, given him the hoodie.
Reece had stood there, lost in memories—
And run out of time.
Now he tightened his jaw. Hewouldhave thralled Smith if they hadn’t had to flee. He’d just been distracted by memories. Wouldn’t happen again.
He was certain of that. The altered empathy vibrating in his blood wanted more violence, more chaos, to see blood on Reece’s own hands. Corruption wasn’t satisfied being a bystander to Alexand Cora committing murders and enslaving thralls any more than famine could be satiated by a simple snack.
Next time, Reece would be ready.
As he jumped down from the truck, there was a chime from his phone—or, more accurately, the phone he had stolen from Evan Grayson. He pulled it out.
Grayson:Y’all might’ve gotten away tonight, but you can’t hide from me forever.
Grayson:And if you’re using my truck as a getaway vehicle, you better be planning to buff every scratch out of my hood.
Reece stared at the screen, his irritation with himself happily seizing on a new target. Who the fuck did Grayson think he was?
Reece was texting back before he’d even thought it through.
Reece:What kind of amateur do you take me for? You think I’d scratch MY truck?
He started to shove the phone back into his pocket, but it chimed again.
