No. Absolutely not, it’s still not safe. What if something happens to set Traynor off the way Eton and Pelham were set off? How can we be certain he can’t be triggered to attack—
Reece clenched his jaw, taking more deep breaths. What did it even matter? Grayson had just shown him tonight that he was on EI’s side, on Stone Solutions’ side, that he would lock Reece up without a second thought.
They needed Traynor to follow him: If Nichols had research on how to enhance the corruption, then the three ofthem needed it. Not EI. Not Stone Solutions. And definitely not Grayson.
Grayson was the enemy too.
Reece mumbled something about needing a drink—which wasn’t a lie, so he could probably adddehydratedto his list of shortcomings—and went from the study into the kitchen. The big windows were dark, so he saw not the water of the lake but his own reflection. He looked away from himself, instead pulling out his phone, only to discover Grayson had texted.
Grayson:They weren’t with me.
Grayson:I know how it looked, but I didn’t bring Stone Solutions and I didn’t know they were coming. You probably don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.
Reece tightened his jaw.
Call him, the voice in his head said.Warn him about Traynor.
No, Reece would not be doing that.
You can’t let Traynor follow him.
Yes, Reece certainly could.
There was silence in his head for a moment.
Okay, fine, the voice said.But if Traynor is going to be on Evan’s tail tomorrow, then you’re going to be on Traynor’s. Enjoy waking up at dawn for a stakeout, asshole.
Reece raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dear Mr. Davies:
The Department of Transportation for the City of Seattle thanks you for this letter suggesting additional locations for breakers. Your concern that these speed bumps be “large enough they make drivers slow down” but “not so big that they unpleasantly jostle anyone” has been noted.
We will add this to your ongoing file of requests.
—Excerpt from an eight-month-old letter
Between the bruises from the brawl and the questions turning over his mind, it’d taken Grayson a while to fall asleep after McFeely’s. He woke to his alarm at dawn and glanced at his phone, but it just confirmed what he’d expected. Reece hadn’t responded to his texts. Staring at the messages wasn’t gonna change that. He set the phone back down and got up.
He watered the peace lily and then poured some of Reece’s cashew milk into a mug and stuck it the microwave, scorching it before adding a packet of instant coffee. He drank it while standing at the kitchen island, gaze on the big windows. Outside, the lightening sky was thick with clouds, and the rainhad become a scattering of small wet snowflakes that melted as soon as they touched the windows.
The street four stories below was less full than usual, smarter souls deciding not to chance the snow, perhaps. There were just a handful of cars parked in front of the open coffee shop across the street: two midsize sedans, a black Tahoe and a convertible—top up, of course, but still an optimistic purchase for Seattle.
His gaze went from the window back across the studio, to his phone by the bed. But Reece wasn’t gonna be awake this early and likely wasn’t gonna text even when he did wake. There was no point in waiting; better to head out now, while the snow was still light and wasn’t sticking to the roads.
Grayson got dressed, grabbed the phone and two protein bars, and took the elevator down to the parking garage to squeeze himself into the Smart car. His head brushed the roof as he turned the key and the engine came to life, not with the deep rumble of his truck but with a motorcycle’s urgent tenor.
He was tearing open a protein bar and mostly on autopilot as he put it in Reverse and hit the gas. The tiny car flew out of the parking space with a screech, so fast he barely managed to turn the wheel in time to save himself from clipping the Mercedes behind him.
He slammed on the brake, idling in the middle of the garage.
You’re supposed to watch that engine, said a little voice in his head. This time it didn’t sound like Grayson’s own voice. Probably better not to think too hard on whose voice it did sound like.
He looked out the windshield. Outside the garage, the gentle snow was still coming down. Not hard enough to stop the ferries, but he was on his own schedule, and driving the whole way would give him time to think.
Assuming you stay off your phone and drive responsibly and don’tsend the damn car flying straight off the road into the ocean, said the suspiciously familiar voice in his head.
