Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CEO Emerson Blackthorne learned long ago that business and feelings can never mix. But when his company becomes the subject of an environmental controversy, there’s only one way to save his reputation: a fake engagement to empath Riley Davids, outspoken pacifist and manager of a struggling conservation start-up.
Riley is willing to be a pretend fiancé in exchange for all the trees Emerson has promised to plant to offset his company’s carbon footprint. But will all bets be off when this fake engagement sparks real emotions?
—EXCERPT FROM THE BACK COVER OF THE ROMANCE NOVEL ENGAGED TO THE EMPATH , currently the subject of an AMI controversy
They ended up heading to a twenty-four-hour diner that flagged the menu items for all kinds of different diets. Or so Reece promised—Grayson had not been allowed to look at the phone and confirm it for himself while driving.
Reece called Detective St. James on the way. “I’m fine,” he said earnestly into the phone, for a third time. “I’m with Agent Grayson and—no, I’m not in handcuffs.”
“But I do have them on me,” Grayson said, which earned him a withering look. “What? I’m not fool enough to lie to your sister.”
Reece rolled his eyes and went back to the phone. “No, I just—yes, okay, the brakes were out, but—yes, but I’m completely safe, so take Liam home and—wait, Jamey, are you driving ? Briony St. James, we are hanging up right now. Get your eyes back on the road.”
Reece ended the call. He hadn’t said a word to St. James about the Hellcat or being followed.
Interesting.
St. James’ mysterious caller had been interesting too. Grayson had been walking out of the airport when she’d called. She hadn’t said much, just that someone had tipped her off about Stensby and the brakes and Grayson needed to make sure Reece was found right that second .
He’d taken her at her word and found Reece himself.
He pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot. Reece opened his own door and jumped down before Grayson could get around the truck to open it for him.
“Are you planning to cut this dinner for another felony?” Grayson said as they fell into step together, heading for the diner.
“Only if you ask real nice,” Reece said wryly.
He’d left the bunny ears in the truck—a crying shame—and apparently hadn’t bothered with a coat or hat that night. He came up to around Grayson’s shoulder, so it was easy to see the flecks of frozen rain that caught in his dark brown hair, the real smile that transformed his face when he looked up at Grayson, the wiry build that was the perfect size for Grayson to lift onto any convenient surface or wall and—
He cut the thought right off, but his body remembered too much: the fun two people of different sizes and strengths could have; the way dry wit used to make him laugh; the care that kind people took with your body and heart.
His body remembered the things and people that had made it happy, even if Grayson never felt happiness anymore. And now that they were in person again, his body couldn’t stop noticing that Reece seemed to be made entirely of things that had once made him happy.
They reached the entrance, and Grayson got the door for Reece, who looked at him suspiciously. “So where do the manners come from if you don’t feel like it’s the polite thing to do?” he asked, as he walked through the doorway.
A memory started to form: Grayson’s dad holding doors for his mom, teaching Grayson and Alex to do the same; the way his mom would tease his dad and smile. He didn’t look closer, and it disappeared. “Reflexes are a funny thing.”
There were a few other diners scattered about, a couple with matching salads at a table, a group of thirtysomethings eating club sandwiches at the counter. He waited as Reece slid into a booth and then took the other padded bench, his knees grazing the underside of the table as he twisted his legs to avoid any contact with Reece’s. He hadn’t ever conducted the testing needed to find the limits of his knockout ability. They might have been okay with two layers of denim between them, but they also might have ended up with Reece face down and out cold on top of the condiments.
The menus were laminated plastic, a mix of traditional diner food like corned beef hash and burgers alongside things like tofu scramble and avocado toast. Good, Reece could actually eat. “And you heard me say this is on me?”
Last thing he wanted was Reece to skimp on food because of his budget. He’d never met an empath who became corrupted because they were hangry, but Reece marched to the beat of his own drum. Drove in the lanes of his own highway, maybe. At exactly the speed limit.
A waitress came by with waters, silverware, and a coffee—for Grayson, obviously; the world wasn’t ready for a caffeinated Reece. He ordered steak and eggs while Reece asked for a stack of the vegan pancake of the day with extra syrup.
As she left, Grayson leaned forward. “I think we ought to finish our conversation.”
Reece winced. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it sounded genuine. “I didn’t mean to project my fear on all those people, but if I’m not safe—”
“Not that part,” Grayson said, which made Reece furrow his brow. “Someone backed you into a corner, pulled a gun on you, and made you relive an empath nightmare. Whatever you did next, I’d never blame you for it.”
“Oh.” Reece looked a little lost. “Then what do we need to talk about?”
“Why didn’t you tell anybody that someone was watching you?”
Reece’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
He had giant brown eyes, a deeper shade than Grayson’s hazel, framed with long black lashes. Very cute. Perfect for wide-eyed innocence, even if it was definitely bullshit.
“You didn’t even tell your sister on the phone just now. She’s a detective; don’t you think she would’ve wanted to know?” Grayson said, and Reece winced again. “This seems like more than an empath’s reluctance to talk to a so-called empath hunter. What’s going on?”
Reece looked down into his water like it held some kind of atonement for a guilty conscience. He didn’t speak for a minute, and then finally, he said tensely, “It wouldn’t have been fair of me to tell Jamey. And it’s not fair of me to tell you either.”
“Reece, I made you vomit with my voice. I can knock you out with my touch,” Grayson said. “What could you possibly tell me that’s less fair than that?”
Reece blew out a long breath. “What your brother and I did to you both when we were all kids.”
Oh.
“Jamey told me about it. How we manipulated you like Cora did her thralls,” said Reece, “so you’d be stronger and faster than humans were ever meant to be. We changed you both, when you were just children, and that is so much more unfair than anything the Dead Man can do.”
Grayson considered him. “Did your sister tell you the theory she believes?”
“That baby empaths do it accidentally, out of love?” Reece scoffed. “Yeah. But Cora didn’t make thralls until she became corrupted and wanted them to protect her or do her bidding. What better way for the corruption to make sure it’s protected when it’s young than creating a permanent thrall?”
Grayson raised his eyebrow. “I’ve watched Detective St. James tell you no without flinching. She’s in love with Mr. Lee, moved in with him, might marry him. She has her own mind, and her own feelings, and her own life. She’s her own person. She is not your thrall. Not even a little.”
Reece bit his lip. “But if some corrupted part of me was trying to turn her into a bodyguard—if that’s what your empath brother did to you too—it’s fucked up, Evan. It’s fucked up what we did to you.”
“Do you have a single memory of consciously doing it?”
“Of course not, but that doesn’t matter,” Reece said impatiently. “We changed your bodies—how do you know we didn’t change your minds? Your instincts?” He swallowed. “So I’m not going to ask either of you for protection. Never again.”
He looked crushed. And he probably was—there wasn’t anyone in the world Reece loved more than his sister, and there probably wasn’t anything that could have hurt him more than believing he’d hurt her.
Grayson leaned forward. “My empath brother was three years younger than me. My earliest memory of him is when he was two and crawled into my bed during a storm.”
Reece winced again. “Was he using you for protection even then—”
“No,” said Grayson. “I was the one who was scared of the thunder. He was trying to make me feel better.”
Reece blinked.
“I got a million stories like that, and I bet Detective St. James does too,” said Grayson. “So it doesn’t matter what you two did to us and it doesn’t matter why you did it. Sure, I’ve got extra strength and speed, and that’s my brother’s fault, but if you want me to be angry at the toddler who caught pneumonia because he wouldn’t stop checking on me when I was sick, it’s never gonna happen.” He met Reece’s eyes. “And I’ve never been a thrall either.”
“But how do you know ?”
“Because if I were an empath thrall, I wouldn’t be able to do my job,” said Grayson. “How many times have I had you in handcuffs?”
“How many times have you saved my life?” Reece countered, wrapping his arms around himself. “You came out of nowhere to save an empath tonight. Why else would you have done that if not for your empath brother making you believe you have to? If it wasn’t our influence, why would both you and Jamey care so much about protecting people?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Grayson said. “Maybe most of this world acts like other people don’t matter. Maybe we got politicians selling human rights to corporations and those billionaires who hoard wealth while children starve. But maybe some of us would rather make the world better instead of worse. Maybe St. James and I see how much stronger and faster we are than everyone else, and it makes us want to be protectors, not bullies.”
Reece bit his lip again. “So you think you came tonight of your own free will?”
“I know I did,” said Grayson. “I came because it’s what I wanted to do.”
Reece’s gaze darted over his face. Most empaths couldn’t stand to look at Grayson at all, his emotionless presence unbearable, and Reece had been the same when they’d first met in November.
Now, though. His gaze didn’t linger in one place too long and he didn’t look too deep into Grayson’s eyes, but he wasn’t cringing or looking away. “So you do still want things?” Reece finally said. “Even without emotions?”
Grayson’s gaze flicked over Reece before he could stop himself. “I told you,” he said. “Reflexes are a funny thing. But they’re still my reflexes, not just the empty motions of some thrall.”
Reece picked up his silverware, rolled tight into a napkin. He toyed with it, turning it around in his hand. “You’re sure? Like, really really really sure?”
Grayson reached out and tapped Reece on the hand. “Yeah, Care Bear. I’m sure.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Reece’s face.
Grayson lingered for just a second, his fingers against the back of Reece’s hand, the glove between them. The only part of Reece he could for sure touch without consequences. His hand was bigger than Reece’s, but then, he was bigger than Reece, full stop, which was just one more reason Reece ought to call him when there was trouble.
The waitress was approaching with a tray loaded with plates. Grayson pulled his hand away. “Next time you’re in danger, call me, all right?”
Reece snorted. “I told you that hey, baby, call me if there’s danger line wasn’t going to work on me,” he said, curling the fingers on the hand Grayson had just touched. “ You’re the danger.”
“Oh, I am,” Grayson agreed. “But I’m not the only danger out there. I was in Burlington because a killer put gloves on a corpse, so we’d think the victim was an empath.”
Reece paled. “I’m so sorry—”
“I know,” Grayson said. “But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I was supposed to be across the country investigating a decoy empath murder while someone tried to kidnap you at gunpoint. And no disrespect, but you got any idea how easy it is for bad folks to target an empath?”
“What easy ? Look what happened tonight. I’m dangerous too—”
“If you hadn’t lost control of your fear, would you have acted with an ounce of self-preservation and run? Or would you have gone with him without a fight?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Reece said, with a dramatic scoff, but he wasn’t quite meeting Grayson’s eyes. “Obviously I wouldn’t just peacefully go with a kidnapper.”
Grayson would’ve seen that flinch from space. “Reece.”
“Well—I mean—maybe it’s a little more complicated than a straight no—”
“Mr. Davies.”
Reece huffed. “Okay, but what if I resisted or didn’t go with him and that guy hurt someone?”
Grayson stared at him until he squirmed. “Call me next time,” Grayson said pointedly.
“Yeah, okay, maybe I should,” Reece muttered.
The waitress set their food in front of them. By the time she’d turned away, Reece had already upended both of the little silver pitchers of maple syrup over his gingerbread pancakes. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” he said, grabbing his fork.
Grayson picked up his own silverware. “I’m about to say something my manners don’t approve of. But how would you feel about a houseguest tonight?”
Reece furrowed his brow. “Who?”
“Me.”
Reece’s eyebrows flew up.
“I wouldn’t normally invite myself over,” Grayson said. “But between you getting followed and Officer Stensby sabotaging your brakes, I think everyone from the people of Seattle to the president would want me to keep an eye on you. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Reece’s voice was a little too high as he said, “You know I’m living in Liam’s old studio now? His one-room studio?”
“I’ve slept in my truck plenty of times. I can sleep on the floor.”
“Wait.” Reece popped a giant forkful of pancake in his mouth. “Why would you sleep in your truck?”
“I’m on the road a lot,” Grayson said. “I don’t need much sleep. Easier to pull over when I do, catch a couple hours, then keep driving.”
“So how often do you go home?”
Grayson took his own bite. “Home where?”
“I don’t know,” said Reece. “You grew up in Texas, right? Do you still live there?”
Grayson swallowed. “No.”
Reece scooped up more syrup-soaked pancake. “So where do you live?”
“When?”
“When you’re taking a break from the Dead Man thing.”
“The Dead Man doesn’t take breaks.”
Reece frowned. “But you have a house or apartment somewhere, don’t you?”
“I own a house. And I have some acres in the Texas Hill Country.”
Reece’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “ A house, singular. As in, you own one house and only one house.”
“Yeah.”
“But I know you don’t live there,” said Reece, “because you bought a house the day we met, and that was a safe house that you bought for me . If that’s the only house you own, where is your home?”
Grayson took another bite. “If I don’t take breaks and don’t have any sentimental attachments, what makes you think I need a home?”
Reece stared at him. “You live out of your truck?”
“You gotta stop thinking about me like a person,” Grayson said. “If your pacifism doesn’t like the weapon analogy, think of me like a robot. An automaton. I got reflexes and memories, like I’ve been programmed. But I’m not a person.”
Reece pursed his lips.
“You gotta remember that while I’m here, all right?” said Grayson. “Because otherwise, the only one who risks getting hurt is you.”
“I don’t gotta do a damn thing,” Reece said testily. “But of course you can stay with me. You can have the bed; I’ll take the couch.”
“You keep the bed. I’m gonna spend half the night working anyway.”
“Bullshit.” Reece pointed at him with his fork. “Between the midnight gym and the flying and the internal clock on East Coast time, I bet you crash the instant you lie down.”
“The Dead Man doesn’t crash .”
“I’m sure Evan Grayson does,” said Reece. “Just like Evan’s the one who has to be a Southern gentleman and give me the bed.”
Grayson picked up his coffee. Reece couldn’t read him, but he wasn’t trying to. All he was doing was making a distracted observation while munching on pancakes that were at least two-thirds syrup. But subconsciously, Reece’s empathy was still at work, trying to solve Grayson like a riddle.
Wasn’t easy for empaths to manage the aversion to Grayson’s presence. Reece, though, seemed to be getting better at it, accustoming himself to Grayson like easing into an icy river one leg at a time because you wanted to swim. Getting to the point his empathy was trying to put together what pieces it had about the Dead Man to form a picture of a person.
The anxiety should have clued Grayson in already, but Reece’s empathy was strong. Real strong.
Of course, Grayson wasn’t a person anymore, not really, and he wasn’t someone an empath of any strength could understand. But under no circumstances could they ever find out if Reece could get used to Grayson’s touch. If Reece did ever go all the way over to the dark side, Grayson would need every weapon he had to stop him.
Because if Grayson couldn’t stop him, Seattle might be fucked.