Chapter Twenty-Five #2
either side of his head, his fingers occasionally flexing, like all that empathy at his literal fingertips was being held
back from reaching for Grayson.
Grayson tried to push all those thoughts out of his head, but it was so much harder to ignore how much his body still wanted
Reece when he had him right fucking here. “Front or back?”
“That seems like a very forward question.”
“Pockets,” Grayson drawled, even though Reece had known damn well what he was asking. He hooked his finger through the belt
loop on Reece’s hip and tugged. “Unless you’re really counting on a layer of denim to protect you from my touch?”
“It will,” Reece said. “And guess what? That’s not a lie.”
“Just means you believe it.”
“Mmm, maybe. But if you’ll cast your memory back to our little interlude in the truck, you’ll remember we locked lips for
a few seconds before I passed out.”
“I’m not exactly gonna forget,” Grayson said, his whisper low and gravelly. “But what’s that got to do with your jeans?”
Reece took a breath through his nose. His cheeks had a flush that seemed out of place in the freezing, unheated air of the old EI facility.
“Do the math, Evan. If we can kiss, I don’t think you can knock me out through denim.
In fact, I bet the next time we touch, I’ll last even longer. So to speak.”
Grayson slid his hand around Reece’s hip to run it over his back pocket, feeling for the outline of a flash drive. Reece inhaled
sharply, his head falling back against the wall and exposing his throat.
“You go right ahead and test that theory,” Grayson said, letting his palm come to rest over Reece’s back pocket. “Put your
hand on me and see what happens.”
Reece’s throat moved as he swallowed. “As if you’re not being handsy enough for both of us. Is this how polite Southern boys behave?”
His sarcasm was belied by the breaths that hadn’t slowed, but then, Grayson was breathing more shallowly himself. Every nerve
felt hyperaware of Reece, scent and sight and sound overwhelming his own good sense.
His hand was still on that back pocket, right on Reece’s ass. Grayson flexed his arm, using his grip to nudge Reece just that
tiny bit closer. “You could just give me Nichols’s research.”
“What makes you think I have it?”
Grayson squeezed his ass pointedly. “If you don’t have it, you could just tell me instead of making me grope you to find out.”
“We’re not on the same side, asshole. I’m not here to draw you maps.” Except Reece was pressing into his touch, not away from it, a small arch of his back, stretching up just one more inch. “Why did you leave those office
maps in Traynor’s office anyway?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Reece wasn’t making a lick of sense—or maybe finally having his hand on Reece, even through jeans, had wreaked havoc on Grayson’s
ability to form thoughts.
Reece’s cheeks were even more flushed now, and against the wall, his fingers flexed again. “Do I really have to keep my hands up and off you?”
“Yeah. You do,” Grayson said. “’Cause you’re the one who didn’t want to talk.”
He slid his hand into Reece’s back pocket, drawing another sharp inhale. Reece’s gaze fell to his lips, his tongue darting
out to wet his own lips. “Why should I talk when we could kiss?”
Another pulse of desire went through Grayson. He tried to ignore it. “You do remember what happened last time you tried that?”
Reece shrugged lightly, a small movement with his hands still up by his head. “I bet if we kiss for only a second, it won’t
knock me out.”
That was probably true. And also a damn trap.
“Nice try,” Grayson said, “but I’m not falling for that.”
“Falling for what?” Reece said, too innocent.
“You know what.” It’d be so easy for Grayson to pull him right into his arms and kiss him. And Reece was right; if they kept
it short enough, he should stay conscious. But giving in to the pull was out of the question.
“We’re not gonna keep building your immunity to me. I’m not gonna let you get any more used to my touch than you already are.”
Grayson’s body made a liar of him as he bent his head another inch. “We’re not kissing. Not a chance.”
“You sure?” Reece’s voice was barely louder than his breaths. “Because you look like a man about to make a bad decision.”
“You make me want to,” Grayson heard himself whisper.
He might have been leaning down, or maybe Reece was stretching up on his toes, when Reece suddenly yanked back. “Who the fuck
is that?”
“Who?” Grayson started to ask. But then he heard it: an engine—no, several engines, pulling into the building’s parking lot.
“You brought Stone Solutions with you again?” Reece’s tone was accusing, maybe even hurt.
“No,” Grayson said, pulling his hand off Reece. “I came alone last night; I came alone today. I always work alone; it’s safer.”
“Don’t lie to me, Evan—”
“Reece, I swear,” Grayson said. “I didn’t bring anyone. I didn’t even know you were here.”
Reece took a hard breath. “Fine.” His pupils had dilated, making his eyes glittery black, as his empathy went on high alert,
picking up the emotions around them. “But at least two dozen people just arrived. And they are ready for a fight.”
Grayson stepped back, straining his ears.
“—that’s the Smart car, he must be here somewhere—we have nothing to fear, we’re ready for him this time—”
He knew that voice.
Grayson grabbed Reece by the hoodie sleeve. “This way,” he said, as he yanked him out of the stairwell.
Reece stumbled on his shorter legs as Grayson tugged him down the hall. “Where are we going?”
“You have to get out of here.” Grayson pulled Reece into the closest office. “Right now.”
He jammed the Magnum into its holster. He could hear the footsteps spreading out through the parking lot as he stretched up
to the ceiling.
“I can handle twenty people,” Reece started as Grayson popped a ceiling tile loose.
“I still got bruises from the last time you handled people.” Grayson pointed to the hole he’d just made in the ceiling.
“There are industrial-sized air vents above us that feed this office and the building. They can handle your average-sized maintenance man and can definitely handle an empath. Follow them to the end of the building, and you can get into the fire stairs from there.” He held out his pocket-sized flashlight. “Be careful and don’t get caught.”
Reece took the flashlight delicately so their fingers didn’t brush. “And you’ll climb up behind me?”
Grayson shook his head. “I’m too heavy for the vents. But it doesn’t matter if this group finds me. I got every right to be
here.” He held out his hands, cupped together to make a footrest. “Just like old times, right?”
In the distance, he could hear the voices.
“—spread out and search the building—”
They were getting closer, maybe in the lobby already.
“Come on,” Grayson said. “Do you want to be a lab rat? You gotta move, Reece. I’ll buy you time.”
Reece swallowed. He set his foot into Grayson’s hands, gripping his shoulders, just like they’d done a short time and a lifetime
ago. “But why?” He sounded so lost as he looked into Grayson’s eyes, his oversized pupils like twin night skies. “Why are you helping me
escape?”
Because I hear Victor Nichols downstairs. And I can’t let him have you.
And Grayson couldn’t stop himself: He darted in and brushed their lips together. It lasted less than a heartbeat, but he heard
Reece’s breath catch, and the spark their split-second kiss lit across Grayson’s skin should’ve powered the whole building.
“I got my reasons,” Grayson whispered.
And before Reece could speak, Grayson boosted him up. Reece grabbed the ceiling and levered himself inside, disappearing into
the vent. Grayson snatched up the ceiling tile from the floor as Reece looked down from the opening.
“Go,” Grayson urged him in a whisper. “Care Bear, please.”
Reece seemed about to say something. But then he swallowed down whatever it was and disappeared.
Grayson fit the ceiling tile back in place as quickly as he could, hiding all evidence of Reece.
Then he strolled out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him just seconds before a half-dozen armed soldiers in balaclavas and fatigues burst from the stairs.
“Can I help you?” Grayson said, flat as he said everything.
But the soldiers kept coming, pouring out of the stairwell without stopping. Safeties were being disengaged, weapons clicking
in three hundred sixty degrees as they formed a tight circle around Grayson.
“Agent Grayson.” That was Victor Nichols’s voice. The circle around Grayson parted just enough to let Nichols’s familiar figure
through. He stood with his forces ringing them and met Grayson’s eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
—that’s the Smart car, he must be here somewhere—we have nothing to fear, we’re ready for him this time—
The realization hit too late.
Nichols had never known Reece was here.
“Take him down,” Nichols said calmly.
And then the soldiers were on him.