Chapter Nineteen #2
disheveled around the base of the bunny ears. His lips had a faint sheen to them, like he’d been drinking a Shirley Temple
of his own. Their stolen moments in the truck had ended when their lips met and his touch had knocked Reece out, but the memory
lingered; Reece’s kiss was one you didn’t forget.
A spark of incredibly ill-timed interest went through Grayson. He’d always wanted Reece when he shouldn’t, and it apparently
didn’t matter to his dick that Reece had traded Care Bear for murder rabbit; his body was in favor of the two of them fucking right there on the bar.
“I want extra cherries in that Shirley Temple,” Grayson said to distract himself from that wildly unhelpful thought.
“Dream on.” Reece turned back to him, gaze flicking over Grayson’s open coat, and visibly twitched. “Why are you wearing that?”
he said sharply.
Guess he did recognize the hoodie. “’Cause it’s winter in Seattle,” Grayson said. “And every time I’ve gotten clothes recently,
they’ve gone missing. The ones I left in your studio. The ones I left in my truck. Course, my truck’s gone missing too.”
“Gosh, that’s a shame,” Reece said, deadpan. “Maybe you should have been more careful with it.”
Grayson shrugged. “It’s all right. I found something else to drive.”
“Now you’re trying to piss me off.” Reece leaned in. “If I were you, I wouldn’t bait an empath’s temper in a crowded club,” he said with a hint
of menace. “Just a tip.”
“That right?” Grayson casually set his hand on the bar, and Reece automatically flinched back to keep distance between them.
Grayson cleared his throat meaningfully. “Pretty sure I can handle you and your temper just fine,” he said, pushing away his
brain’s immediate and unhelpful ideas of ways he could handle Reece.
Reece’s expression darkened. He tapped the bar. “You wanted to meet. We’ve met. What do you want?”
“I’m leaving town tomorrow.”
It wasn’t really an answer, but it also wasn’t something Grayson had necessarily planned to tell Reece. From the looks of
it, Reece hadn’t expected Grayson to be that honest either.
“Okay,” Reece said, drawing it out. “I’ll pencil some extra mayhem in my planner, then.”
“No,” Grayson said firmly. “You won’t.”
“Oh, this should be fun.” Reece rested his chin on his fake-gloved hand again. Care Bear or murder rabbit, he was still way
too cute. “Tell me, big bad Dead Man, why should I be good while you’re gone?”
“Because you can give me hell,” said Grayson. “Not your sister.”
Reece stiffened. “Leave Jamey out of this,” he said warningly. “She has always been off limits, and she always will be. Maybe
you have this obsession with being the Dead Man, but I know Jamey’s mixed up in it too now, and if anything happens to her
and I find out—”
He cut himself off, but Grayson didn’t need the details. No question St. James did still matter to Reece, even in his corrupted
state.
Then Reece pointed at him. “And what about you?”
Grayson wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Me?”
“Has anything happened to— Never mind.” Reece seemed to shake himself. “So is this why you needed to see me?” he said gruffly.
“To lecture me about behaving for Jamey?”
I don’t know why I’m here. But I couldn’t leave town without seeing you. “Did you figure out who’s framing you?” Grayson said instead.
“I wouldn’t tell you if I had.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“You’re trying to lock me up.” Reece’s voice was icy. “Don’t think for a moment that I’ve dropped my guard. One wrong twitch
from you and I will make this entire club attack. How’s that for giving you hell—”
“Hey.” A brunette in a tie, maybe early thirties, suddenly shoved his way up to the bar. “Hey, cutie.” His voice was loud
as he put his elbows on the bar top and snapped his fingers at Reece. “I need a beer.”
“Oh yeah?” Reece turned toward the brunette. “Well, I think you need to fuck off.”
The man drew his head back. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not getting you a fucking beer,” Reece said. “You’ve got your car keys right there in your fist. Only assholes drink
and drive.” He looked at Grayson. “Not a lie.”
“Obviously not,” Grayson muttered.
“What the fuck?” the brunette said.
“You can have something without alcohol,” Reece told him.
The brunette huffed. “Are you fucking kidding?”
Reece folded his arms, the towel dangling from his hand, and waited.
The brunette frowned. “Fine,” he finally said. “Get me a Coke.”
“You don’t need caffeine this late at night,” Reece said.
The brunette threw up his hands. “Ginger ale.”
Reece slowly unfolded his arms. He reached under the bar and then set a clear glass full of ice on the bar top. He put the
soda dispenser over the glass and filled it, then pushed it toward the man.
The man’s gaze flicked to the glass, then back to Reece. “Can I at least have a cherry?”
Reece lifted a maraschino cherry by the stem off the garnish tray and dropped it into the drink. “Yes.”
The man’s gaze flicked over Reece again. “What about your number?”
“No,” Grayson said.
The man whirled around, mouth open, and then seemed to clock Grayson’s size. “My hero,” Reece said sarcastically as the brunette
snatched up the ginger ale and disappeared.
“He was hitting on you right in front of your hot, scary boyfriend,” Grayson said dryly. “And he was rude to you.”
“And if I’d wanted to, I could make that man pull out his own fingernails and love every second of the pain.” Reece folded
his arms on the bar. “Stop forgetting that I’m not that helpless weakling anymore,” he said, voice lower and gravellier. “I’ve
changed, Evan. And the new me doesn’t need a knight in shining armor.”
Grayson leaned forward. “Not even a knight to protect you from me?”
This time he put his hand on the bar only an inch from Reece’s bare arm. Reece jerked back like he’d been stung.
“You talk a big game now,” Grayson said. “But when you were that so-called helpless pacifist, you weren’t scared of me.”
Reece’s jaw tightened. “You mean I was too stupid and naive to be smart around you.”
“You know I’ve never believed that about you.” Grayson met his eyes. “Don’t know why you think talking about yourself like that is gonna fly now.”
“No?” Reece said with bite. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t like being reminded that I’m a different empath
now.” His gaze dropped to Grayson’s chest. “Did you come here believing you’d find old Reece and give him his hoodie back?”
“You know where I’m staying.” Grayson touched the sweatshirt, over his heart. “You want this back, you can come on over and
get it.”
“I know better than to be anywhere alone with the Dead Man.” Reece’s gaze had gone to Grayson’s shoulder. “And I know I’m
right that you wish it was your Care Bear standing here instead of me.”
Grayson’s hand automatically went his shoulder, where the bullet scar was hidden under the fleece. “The Dead Man doesn’t have
wishes.”
“Liar,” Reece shot back. “You wish you could fuck me.”
Grayson stilled.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Reece said, a dark boast. “Your body doesn’t care about some pesky little morality adjustment; it’s still
broadcasting that desire to me loud and clear. Like I said: I’ve changed; you haven’t.”
He wasn’t wrong. This close, Grayson couldn’t ignore the scent of his own shampoo layered on Reece’s hair, the flush to his
cheeks or the flash of familiar dark eyes behind the domino mask. Grayson should be thinking of ways to lock him up, but all
his useless brain was suggesting was ways to pin him down. “You haven’t changed as much as you think you have.”
Reece folded his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Grayson leaned in just a little more. “You can’t take your eyes off me either.”
Reece’s eyes narrowed. And then he was shoving away from the bar and storming off, darting past Ben and the other bartender and heading for the kitchen door.
Grayson jumped over the bar, ignoring Ben’s exclaimed “Whoa!” as he chased after Reece into the kitchen. As he burst through
the door himself, he could see over everyone’s heads that a second door at the back was still swinging. Grayson sprinted toward
that one, dodging the kitchen staff making appetizers as he shouldered it open and found himself in a hall.
“You have got to stop underestimating me.”
That was all the warning Grayson had before three men his own size, all in black T-shirts and trousers, were on him. Rocky
was in front, taking Grayson by surprise with a hard shove that set his back against the wall.
As Grayson’s chin came back up, his gaze landed on Reece in the middle of the hall, still in the bunny ears and fake empath
gloves but now with his hands curled into fists.
Grayson’s gaze darted to Rocky. The man was red with anger, his teeth bared, looking ready to throw a real punch.
“Rocky,” Grayson said loudly. “Stop.”
Rocky paused, his eyes going to Grayson’s.
He’d registered his name. This was projection again, not thralling. Reece was angry and dangerous, but he hadn’t thralled
the bouncers.
One of the other bouncers had seized Grayson’s shoulders, holding him to the wall. Grayson could’ve broken free, but he looked
past them to Reece, locking eyes with him. “You done with your tantrum yet?”
Reece took a step forward, pointing at Grayson. “Listen, dick—”
He cut his own words off, his head snapping to the side toward the end of the hall. He watched the door for a moment. Then
his head whipped back around, the fury clear on his face.
Oh boy.
“You brought Stone Solutions?”
“What?” Grayson said. “Reece, no—”
But Reece had vanished from sight.
The bouncers turned on each other with a roar, even Rocky. Then the door to the kitchen burst open, and three utensil-armed
cooks came tumbling out into the hall, just as the hall door opened and a half-dozen armed men that could only be Stone Solutions’
undercover response were sprinting their way.
“Son of a bitch,” Grayson muttered, and dove into the brawl.