Lunch was awkward, but not nearly as bad as it could have been, considering the company. Felix and Gray brought enough food that I didn’t even need to share mine with Ambrose.
Dad joined us shortly after we sat down, and I think he helped defuse some of the tension in the room. He’s met Ambrose a time or two, so I don’t have another introduction to muddle through. We spend most of the time getting Ambrose caught up on what we know about the victim and talking about how to move forward with LaPointe. It’s clear he’s involved with William Bursa, but from Belinda’s own confession, we know he didn’t have anything to do with the other man’s death.
“At this point, the only thing we have on him is the evasion and traffic violations.” Dad pushes his chair back to give himself some leg room under the round table we’re seated at. “I’m going to push for a high bail just because the guy’s an asshole. The judge might agree with him being a flight risk, but with Carter for a lawyer, I doubt it will matter. She’s not cheap, so somebody who likes that psycho has a big bankroll.”
“SSA Lewis is taking point on Bursa. Maybe you could get LaPointe to flip on his boss,” Ambrose suggests after wiping off his hands with a rough paper napkin.
“If Bursa has the kind of control over LaPointe we suspect he does, it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to roll on him if he wanted to,” I reply. Felix is toying with the ends of my hair behind my chair. It’s distracting, but not enough for me to move or ask him to stop. “I’ll let Lewis know he’s probably going to get sprung. She might have an idea on how to deal with him.”
“Chief, we’ve got some more agents from the MBI out front.” Scotty pokes his head into the breakroom.
“That will be the seer.” Ambrose stands up from the table, grabbing his burger wrapper as he does to toss it in the trash. “Is there somewhere I should have them set up?” He looks between me and Dad.
“We’re going to need some space, boys,” Dad announces. It’s funny that he still calls them boys, but I guess that’s part of watching them grow up.
“When should we come back to pick you up?” Grayson asks, already standing.
“I’m not sure. I can give you a call later.” I push in my chair and glance at the door. Ambrose and Dad already left, but the guys are standing around as if they are waiting for something. “If everything goes okay, it shouldn’t be more than a few hours,” I add when they seem reluctant to leave.
“Come on, we’ve managed the last few years. We don’t need to have eyes on her at all times.” Felix brushes past me, making sure our hands touch as he does.
“Speak for yourself.” Remy pouts, but then he makes like he’s going to follow after Felix. When he reaches my side, instead of the inconspicuous hand brush, he wraps his arms around my waist and back, then shifts me to the side as if he’s dipping me. I’m left staring up at his roguishly handsome face before he slams his lips down on mine in a hot, but too quick kiss.
When he rights me, I’m breathing heavily. “A little something to remember me by,” he murmurs, then saunters out of the room with a swagger that would look forced on anyone else but Remy.
Grayson is still standing in front of me when I look away from Remy’s backside. “I’m not going to pretend I think I could get away with that, but be safe and call us if you need anything. I’ll see you tonight.” His approach is slow, measured. I take in his distinct scent and the nearness of his body, and my skin actually prickles with anticipation while I wait for him to touch me.
Grayson finally wraps his arm around me in a half hug and kisses my temple, lingering just long enough so I feel the cushion of his full lips and I think about tipping my face up to offer my lips instead.
Once he releases me, he rushes from the room, leaving me to stare after him. That man is giving me a serious case of whiplash, but I think it might be worth it.
As he clears the hall, a man I’ve only seen in pictures fills his void. He’s dressed in a crisp fitted suit. I brush my side to straighten my shirt, but my fingers meet with soft cotton, not my white dress shirt.Crap. Just my luck I would meet the head of the seers when I’m in a T-shirt and jeans. When he tilts his head to the left, I catch the slight graying of his dark hair near his temples. If I had to describe him using only one word, it would be somber. His dark eyes are deep set, and his mouth rests in a flat line, neither frowning nor smiling.
I step forward to meet him when he reaches the door. “Agent Bishop.” I extend my hand.
“Assistant Director Wuornos,” he replies. He takes it in a firm grip, giving me one solid pump in return, then drops my fingers to look around. Belatedly, I feel for my protection ring, wondering if my shields are strong enough to block him.
There’s a woman behind him with a satchel over her shoulder. She must have the probe. “Where’s the subject?” AD Wuornos asks, getting right to business.
“She’s in the office. I’ll go collect her.” I sidestep him, finding Dad in the hall.
“I had Scotty take LaPointe back to his cell. We can use the interrogation room,” Dad offers. “Decker is setting up.”
“If you could show me where that is, I can get the probe ready,” the woman says, speaking up for the first time, looking at Dad.
“Sure thing,” Dad says, but I can hear the tension in his voice.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Wuornos says after Dad and the woman disappear down the hall. I pivot to face him. I’m sure he can read the surprise on my face. I didn’t even know he knew I existed. “Interesting magic you wield. It’s certainly lightened my caseload.”
I don’t know if I should apologize or tell him he’s welcome by his tone, so I decide to keep quiet.
“What’s it like always knowing why people do the things they do?” He tilts his head to the side as if he’s studying me.
The fact that I feel emotions when I read signatures isn’t something I really advertised at the academy, so the question catches me a little off guard.
“I only ask because always knowing everyone’s deepest secrets can be…as exhausting as it is exhilarating. I wonder if it’s the same for you?”
The fact that he divulged something personal makes his question less intrusive. “It’s like watching a movie as opposed to someone telling you about it,” I tell him, and tuck my hair back behind my ears. “The full picture is clearer, if that makes sense, but I don’t experience the feeling the same way a caster or even an empath does, because I don’t have a connection to the magic I’m reading.”
