Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cute but Concerning: An examination of the legal potentialities of the common law doctrine of attractive nuisance as the substantive basis of tort liability in matters of empathy.
— RAINIER UNIVERSITY LAW REVIEW , VOLUME 24, ISSUE 2
Diesel frowned as he replayed the previous night’s security footage for a third time. Reece had burst out of the building and gone straight up to the guy leaning on the Hellcat. The man wore a balaclava, but from his height and breadth, it could have been Keith, showing up for—what, exactly?
The camera didn’t have sound, but Reece was clearly pissed. Not afraid, though, even when the man—twice Reece’s size—shoved him back around the side of the warehouse.
Diesel switched cameras, frown deepening as he again watched the asshole in the balaclava pull a gun on Reece. Then the fear on Reece’s face was clear, but it was the man in the balaclava who hit the ground a moment later, trembling. At that same time, all of the staff outside had broken into screams too and gone sprinting off into the freezing night. They’d come back maybe twenty minutes later, confused at their own terror and paranoia, no ideas beyond maybe it was the weed .
Diesel wasn’t so sure. He paused the video on Reece, who was staring down at the man in shock. “What happened to you last night, kiddo?” he muttered out loud.
There was a knock on the open door. Diesel turned to see Ben, balancing a box half his size. “You’re supposed to be on your way to Vancouver and that cool car show,” he chided, as he wedged his foot on the door frame and got his knee up under the box to support its weight.
“I’m still going.” Diesel closed the video and stood. “Show doesn’t start until tomorrow—I’ll leave early in the morning.”
“Your hotel package starts tonight—”
“But it’ll keep. And give me that.” Diesel reached out for the box swamping Ben.
“You deserve a break more than anyone I know,” Ben protested, letting him take it out of his hands. “There’s at least a dozen of us here right now to get this place ready for tonight. Frodo is scrubbing down the bar himself. We were all so excited that you won this trip—why aren’t you taking it?”
“I will,” Diesel promised again. “But just wanted to check on this place or I’d be all distracted up there anyway. We still don’t know what spooked you last night.” And someone had held Reece at gunpoint. Diesel wanted to show that to Frodo, the owner of McFeely’s, before they told the staff, who’d probably be equal parts freaked and furious. Ben especially; he was sweet but also loyal, and he didn’t tolerate people messing with his friends. Something clinked in the box as Diesel hefted it up. “What’s in here?”
“Bottles for recycling.” Ben rolled his shoulders, head tilted back to look up at Diesel. “I’m cleaning up the bar.”
“Go get Rocky,” Diesel said. “He’s going to be so mad if he finds out your tiny ass moved a bunch of heavy stuff and he didn’t get to help.”
Ben snorted, but he had started to smile. “Where is he?”
“Cleaning out the Wellness Room.” Those two had been eyeing each other since Rocky had started at McFeely’s three weeks ago. Diesel would be staying out of the Wellness Room for at least another hour.
Ben disappeared into the Wellness Room and Diesel went the opposite way, down the hall and out the side door, the same one he’d watched Reece storm out of on the security footage. He carried the box past the picnic table, light droplets falling on his hair and sweatshirt as he headed for the back of the warehouse, to their staff parking area and the dumpsters.
As he lifted the lid of one of the recycling bins and tossed the box of bottles in, somewhere behind him, a car door opened. He glanced over his shoulder to see four men approaching, an average-sized man in front in a long dark coat and three larger men in puffy camouflage coats that didn’t quite conceal the outline of their firearms.
Shit. Diesel let the lid fall as he straightened. “Can I help you?” he said, as the men approached.
“Mr. Lane,” said the man in front. He didn’t have a hat, his brown hair in disarray and his glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes were pale blue and narrowed. “You were supposed to be on your way to Vancouver by now.”
Diesel’s gaze darted over the group. He’d seen his share of rough folks over the years. People with bad intentions, people itching for a fight. But this man and his group made Diesel’s stomach twist in a new way.
Keith had mentioned powerful contacts—the kind who paid well enough that he’d bought the Hellcat. Diesel’s good fortune at winning a trip out of the blue suddenly seemed like a lot less of a lucky shot.
“Plans change,” Diesel finally said.
“Indeed they do. Sometimes people shirk their duties and vanish into the night, and other people don’t take their scheduled trips, and you’re forced to make moves sooner than expected.” The man looked over to the warehouse. “We’ve learned a lot about you, Mr. Lane. You like empaths—not just the pretend ones you work with, but the real ones. You like their compassion and their pacifism, and they like you right back. Your empath therapist at the veterans’ hospital wrote glowingly about you in her notes, and I’m sure Reece Davies would love to count you as a friend.”
The recycling bins were at his back, but broken bottles wouldn’t do Diesel much good against guns. “What is this about?”
“Your warm relationships with real empaths. It’s a hard quality to find in an ex-marine, you know.” The man nodded toward the warehouse. “Lots of people inside right now, aren’t there?” he said, too lightly.
Diesel took a breath through his nose. That hadn’t been subtle.
“Why don’t we go for a drive together?” said the man. “Unless you’d rather introduce us to your friends?”
Most people didn’t find their way to a place like McFeely’s unless life had given them a reason to crave kindness. Everyone inside had a past of their own that could be dug back up and used against them.
Diesel let out his breath. “Let’s go, then,” he said tightly.
The man with the pale eyes smiled. “I knew you were the right recruit for the job.”
Reece didn’t look back as he sprinted into the airsoft gear shop and then across the parking lot. He had found Waller’s file on him in that cabinet, and it was one thing if some wannabe kidnapper was watching Reece.
But that creep had taken pictures of Jamey and Liam .
Fury threatened to choke him; Reece shoved it down. Last night, he’d been so scared that he’d projected his emotions onto others. Fear had been bad enough, but he could not risk projecting anger, not with all these people around, not with air guns and maybe real weapons nearby.
He crossed the gravel lot, an uncomfortable combination of hot from exertion and cold from the icy wind hitting his sweaty skin. But Grayson’s truck was right in front of him and it looked like a fortress. Reece practically ran the last few steps to the truck, using the dented bumper to climb over the tailgate and into the bed. He sat on the ridged floor, bringing his knees to his chest in a tight ball, his back against the wheel well.
He breathed the cold, wet December air and willed it to cool his temper before he lit up the entire airsoft course with rage. What was he doing, pretending he could be out among normal people? Acting like a sheep when he was turning into a wolf?
He stuck his hands out in front of him, staring unseeing at the black gloves.
Waller thought he was some kind of badass. He had no idea how dangerous Jamey was—and even less idea how dangerous Reece really was. No idea the risks he was taking by messing with Reece’s family.
He reached for his right glove and tugged it off. The air was icy against his fingers, but it felt good.
Waller had thought his airsoft gloves could protect him against Reece. What a fucking idiot. The only protection anyone in Seattle had against Reece was his own willingness to stifle his abilities with the empath gloves.
What would happen to creeps like Waller if Reece decided he was done wearing them?
His phone was ringing in his pocket. Reece shook his head, thoughts slipping away. By the time he’d dug it out of his jeans pocket, it had stopped ringing. Missed call Evan Grayson it said on-screen.
A text came in.
Grayson: You better feel guilty enough about taking off that you’re gonna tell me exactly where you are.
Reece winced.
Reece: Truck.
His gaze lingered on his phone, his new background with the hot gym picture Grayson had sent from Vermont; the flush to Grayson’s skin, the sweat-dampened hair, the warm hazel shade of his eyes.
Footsteps were already approaching, big feet moving rapidly. And here he was, making giant metaphorical heart-eyes over Grayson’s selfie.
Reece quickly stuck his phone in his hoodie pocket just as Grayson appeared on the other side of the tailgate. “What is it with you and running off behind my back?” He folded his arms on the top of the tailgate. “You couldn’t wait thirty seconds to tell me you’re going?”
Grayson’s eyes were so much harder to look at in person, with their missing emotions, but Reece could meet them for longer now, could take in the shades of gold and warm brown against the winter day’s endless steel.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant. “I opened that drawer, and Waller had pictures of me, but not just me—Jamey and Liam too.”
“Oh.” Grayson leaned forward on his folded arms on the top of the tailgate. “That pissed you off.”
It wasn’t really a question, more of an understanding. Reece nodded anyway. “I was— really mad,” he admitted. And after last night, I just—rage and weapons didn’t seem like a great combination, and I thought I better get some distance from other people. Fast.”
“So you came here?”
“Yeah.” Reece hunched his shoulders. “I wasn’t really wandering off. I was just coming to wait for you.”
Grayson nodded slowly. “You still feeling on edge?”
Reece took a slow breath, in and out, trying to parse out his feelings. Grayson’s arrival had helped him calm down, but anger was still simmering, ready to rise up. “Probably safest if I’m not around anyone else for a while,” he finally admitted. “Except you, obviously. I still want to be around you, you’re the only one that makes me feel—the only one I want to—maybe it can be just the two of us for a bit?”
He winced. “Wow. I can’t believe I topped your terrible pickup line, but hey, baby, call me if there’s danger isn’t half as bad as hey, baby, let’s be alone so I don’t accidentally send strangers into fits of rage .”
“Hey now,” said Grayson. “You don’t know what kind of lines work on me. Maybe I’m into it.”
Reece huffed a surprised laugh that eased the anger even more, a small smile on his lips as he looked up at Grayson.
Grayson stepped back, and then the tailgate was coming down. “Come on.” He extended a hand. “We can bicker over who has worse lines in the truck. It’s freezing out.”
Reece started to move his hand, then felt something cold in his pocket— felt the cold, because that was the edge of his phone against his bare skin.
Shit. “Are we going somewhere?” Reece said, stalling as his mind raced. Why had he taken off his glove ?
“Those gloves we found gave me an idea,” Grayson said. “Not sure what you’re gonna think, though.”
There was a chime. Grayson dropped his hand, turning slightly to the side as he checked his watch. Reece took advantage of the moment and hurriedly slid down the bed until he was perched on the edge of the open tailgate, his legs hanging off the end, tucking his hands out of sight under his thighs just as Grayson turned back to him.
“What idea?” Reece said, in the most normal tone he could manage.
“I happen to know that the president of Stone Solutions Canada, Vivian Marist, is here in Seattle at least through tomorrow, giving a keynote speech at an AMI conference in place of Cedrick Stone,” Grayson said. “That box in Mr. Waller’s office held real empath gloves and they were shipped from BC. I think I need to do some undercover searching at Stone Solutions Canada. You want to come to Vancouver?”
Reece blinked.
“Drive’s only a few hours,” Grayson said. “We can stop by your place, grab my stuff and anything you need.”
“You want to run away to Canada with me?” Reece’s heart didn’t skip a beat. Definitely no beat-skipping, heart-fluttering here.
“It’s a lot closer than Texas,” Grayson said. “And the safe house is in BC. If we need to get you there, it’ll be closer still.”
Reece was panicking outside clubs and losing his temper in airsoft courses. Had to worry he might accidentally project those emotions onto other people. Had taken off his glove. In public .
It would be better for everyone if he went somewhere that kept other people safe.
He took another breath through his nose, then blew it out. “When this is done,” he said quietly, “I’ll go to the safe house.”
If you come with me , he wanted to say.
But he didn’t. Grayson was the Dead Man. He had responsibilities to the entire country, not just to a single empath. By rights Grayson should just send Reece up wherever the Stone Solutions facility was in Canada and leave him there, and every minute he hadn’t was a minute Reece didn’t deserve.
But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Grayson had to be so alone, that he wasn’t supposed to share pictures of himself, that he didn’t have a home. He’d given up his entire life, given up his heart , so that he could do the dirty work that governments and corporations couldn’t be trusted to do.
Come with me.
Let’s really run away.
Maybe your emotions aren’t completely gone.
Maybe I can find out.
Reece bit it all back. “Vancouver first, though. I’ll go undercover into Stone Solutions with you—”
“Reece.” Grayson put his hands on the tailgate, on either side of Reece. And Reece’s breath caught in his throat as he was suddenly boxed in between Grayson’s arms, their faces level with only inches between them.
They weren’t touching. But they were so close, close enough he could feel Grayson’s warmth, smell that faint cologne, hear his breathing.
“You paying attention to me?” Grayson said.
Reece swallowed thickly. “Undivided,” he promised, his voice too high.
“If you think you’re coming with me anywhere but the hotel, you’re gonna have to convince me I can trust you,” Grayson said, and he was so damn close . “You understand? We came here to investigate someone who literally tried to empath-nap you last night and we still don’t know why. I can name a lot of moments you should’ve stayed put, but today had a big neon sign saying sit your lemming ass down and talk to Evan .”
Grayson’s arms were almost touching his on either side. Reece could have easily closed the inches between them and kissed him.
“I am trying to keep you out of trouble, but you are making sure I got my work cut out for me,” Grayson said. “So tell me you’re gonna at least try to make a good decision now and then, okay, Care Bear?”
“Okay,” Reece agreed dazedly.
“Good.”
Grayson suddenly seemed to realize how close he’d come. He stilled, and with so little space between them, Reece could sense the way his arms and shoulders had tensed and flexed.
Reece ran his tongue over his dry lips, and Grayson’s gaze darted straight to them.
Want to make a bad decision with me?
Reece didn’t say it. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Should we start our great Canadian adventure?”
Reece watched Grayson’s chest rise and fall, his breath a vibration between them. “Yeah.” Grayson straightened up. “Come on.”
The picture of perfect manners as always, he held out his hand to help Reece down from the tailgate.
And Reece took it.
Their fingers interlaced as their palms pressed together. Grayson’s hand was big and warm, calloused at the bases of his fingers, and at the touch of bare skin every part of Reece, from his suddenly alight nerves to his empathy, was automatically reaching, searching, desperately wanting—
Oh shit , he remembered, just as Grayson said, “Where’s your glove—”
And then everything was black.