Grayson:And I will be there.
Reece stared at the words on his screen. “Are you fucking kidding?” he said out loud, as if Grayson could hear him.
Of course he wasn’t going tomeetGrayson. That was something old Reece did because he was too helpless and naive to make good decisions. He and Grayson were enemies now. It was bad enough they kept texting and talking, but enemies certainly didn’t meet.
And sure, Reece could pick a public place where he’d have a distinct advantage: The more people around him, the more potential weapons he could turn against Grayson. He could turn their whole meeting into a trap for Grayson if he chose.
But Reece was wanted by the cops. He couldn’t be seen in public places right now, and he wasn’t stupid enough to meet the Dead Man in an isolated location where there would be nothing but the two of them and Grayson’s knockout touch: He might as well put himself in a cell and hand Grayson the keys.
He needs to see you, the little voice in his head said.Don’t you want to know why?
No. Reece did not.
Maybe he needs you.
Then that was too fucking bad for Agent Grayson.
What if he’s in trouble?
Reece jammed his phone back in his pocket with a curse. Even if he was stupid enough to agree to meet—which obviously hewasn’t—it was out of the question.
I need to see you.
Absolutely not.
As he grabbed his hoodie, the traitorous bear hat tumbled off the passenger seat and to the floor, like he’d needed yet another reminder of Grayson. Reece grabbed the hat, but as he opened the glove box to cram it back in, his gaze fell on another item stuffed inside.
A headband with black bunny ears, given to him by Ben Castillo, the McFeely’s bartender, way back on that night Reece had stopped by the club and ended up in a high-speed brakeless chase on I-5.
All the empaths have them, Ben had said when he’d offered Reece the ears.You should too.
Reece reached into the glove box and pulled out the bunny ears, considering them.
On second thought, maybe hewouldmeet Grayson.
Because there was one place in Seattle where Reece would blend in perfectly, wouldn’t draw the slightest bit of extra attention—and could still have a crowd of hostages.
Sean Lennox had been head of Charles Stone’s personal security for more than a decade and was accustomed to his habits. Despite the evening hour, Charles would be at his laptop in his home office. Lennox knocked on the closed door. “Mr. Stone, sir? Do you have a moment?”
“Come in.”
Lennox walked into the expansive space and stood at attention. “I just wanted to be certain you saw the report from the West Coast monitoring team.”
“I’m reading it now,” Charles said. “It seems several empaths will be congregating in Bellingham. And coincidentally, this group appears to be our most isolated empaths, the ones with only small support networks or distant relatives. Isn’t that interesting?” He leaned back in his chair, regarding Lennox. “How would you feel about a trip to Bellingham yourself?”
“I am always at your service, sir,” Lennox said.
“Excellent.” Charles leaned forward. “Let me tell you what I have in mind.”
Chapter Nineteen
Calling all Seattle fans of Dungeon-Free Dragons! This month’s meet-up will be at the empath club. Get great food and join new friends for a peaceful RPG where we hatch baby dragons that safely grow into happy adult dragons.
—Post shared on social media
Reece:McFeely’s. 11pm. Come alone.
Grayson kept the steering wheel steady with his knees as he glanced at his phone. “McFeely’s?”
