Page 51 of Seeing Grayscale

“Whatever has to happen,” he orders. “Get it taken care of.Discreetly.”

I open the door, pop my head out, and peer over to where he’s standing, cell phone held to his ear. A hand claws through his hair. “Call me when it’s done.”

Just as I enter the space fully, Hunter hangs up, spins, and spots me. “What was that?” I ask, nodding to the phone in his fist.

He stuffs the phone in his pocket and stiffly walks to where he stashed his laptop carrier. “RaymondDavis won’t be a problem anymore,” is all he says.

“How the fuck did you find out his real name?” Because I didn’t even know it before this second.

“He has a record and doesn’t shy away from his street name. It also helps that he has it tattooed on his chest.”

I blink.

Fuck, he works fast.

“I have to get some work done. My company is bringing in a smaller airline, and I have—” He pauses, realizing I’m gaping at him. “What?”

“Did you put a hit out on him?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

“Then what did you do?” I push, needing to know the lengths he’s gone for me.

Sighing, he sets the carrier on the bed and slides his hands into his pockets. “I called in a favor, Gray. That’s all.”

“Because he jacked my shit? That’s hardly a reason to—”

“It is,” he cuts in, crossing the space with speed. “Thievery isillegal. And even if it weren’t, he did it toyou, which is unacceptable.”

My jaw hangs open again. “Why do you even care?” It’s not meant to be rude or abrasive. I’m genuinely curious. “What would your—I mean, what would Brent think about all this? That you’re here with me and calling infavors?”

Well, that shifted gearsfast.I think I want the answer to that question more than any other.

His hazel eyes search my face, jaw ticking slightly. “Brent?”

“Yeah…” I shrug and stuff my thumb in my mouth. My teeth find the microscopic strip of new nail growth and tear at it.

“Do you want to know what hethinksor if I’m still seeing him, Gray?”

I chew on the digit for a few beats, my heart thumping harder the longer he waits for my answer. Steeling myself, I pop my thumb free and ask, “Are you still seeing him?”

“No.” It’s immediate. “I ended things.”

“Why?”

His answer this time isn’t as quick. “Because it was always a temporary arrangement.”

“But this isn’t,” I argue, scanning his features for any signs of deception.

“I don’t want it to be,” he admits, shoulders rising slightly. “I want to see this through 'til the end. However long that needs to be.”

“So, is he…alright, then? Like, did he take the news well?” What the fuck am I on about? This doesn’t concern me whatsoever, but I can’t stop prying for more.

“Well,” he swallows, “there was some disappointment on his end. But I think he’ll get over it.”

Something…darkgnarls at my insides.

A giddy, dangerous sensation makes my pulse skip a beat.

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