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GRAYSON

Eve had someone staking out the Grayson family. No matter how many times Grayson went over the facts, that was the conclusion he reached. And no matter how many times he came to that conclusion, as he drove back to the hotel, he couldn’t banish the memory that wanted to come.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Yes. You did.” Grayson pulls himself out of the pool. The night air hits his skin like ice—or maybe that’s a side effect of talking to a ghost.

The girl in front of him looks so much like Emily that he can barely breathe.

“My existence disturbs people.” Her voice is like Em’s, too, but with a different kind of sharpness, a more subtle blade. “Side effect of being an affair baby.”

That statement reminds Grayson of who this girl really is—not a Hawthorne by name or blood but twisted in the branches of the family tree nonetheless, theirs to protect.

“What?” Eve demands, probably because of the way he’s looking at her. She pushes her hair back from her face, and Grayson’s gaze catches on the bruise on her temple—ugly, mottled edges pushing beyond the confines of a bandage. Someone hurt her.

And that someone will pay.

“Does it pain you?” He takes a step toward her, drawn like a moth to the flame.

“My existence?”

“Your wound.”

Grayson finally wrenched himself from the memory and focused on what mattered: Eve had someone—a very dangerous someone—watching the Grayson family. Stalking them from afar. Given that Eve was one of the only people on the planet who knew that Sheffield Grayson wasn’tmissing, that was an utterly unacceptable risk.

She’s got someone watching my father’s family—and now that I’m here, watching me.Grayson was on high alert as he slipped the black key card into the door of his hotel room. He didn’t so much as turn on the lights until he’d verified that the place was clean. No listening devices. No cameras.

No Nash.

When Grayson did finally turn on a lamp, the first thing he saw was the 3D printer he’d requested. He woke up his computer and was greeted by a circular red icon telling him the number of direct messages he’d missed from Gigi.Seventeen.

She wanted the picture he’d taken of Trowbridge’s passwords, and she’d resorted to hairless cat pictures and all caps in her attempt to get it.

I WILL BUY YOU THIS TINY HAIRLESS KITTEN IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME WHAT I WANT.

Grayson felt a tug of affection. It was remarkable, really, how quickly she’d gotten under his defenses.Don’t get attached. You know what you have to do.

Grayson transferred the photograph from his phone to his computer, then set about altering it. A 9 in one password became an 8, a 7 in another was changed into a 2. AVcould be easily morphed to aW, anLto aD, aZto a 7. Any digit could be deleted from the end of a sequence.

With every change Grayson made, he pictured Gigi’s beaming smile, her bright, dancing eyes. He finished and sent her the photo, along with a message:If you don’t get anywhere tonight, I’ll need a copy of the files tomorrow.

He tried not to feel guilty about the fact that she wouldn’t get anywhere—by design.

Set on his course, Grayson printed a copy of each of the keys he’d designed: one an exact duplicate of Gigi’s and the other a decoy. Then he shot a message off to Zabrowski, with three directives.

The keys are ready for pickup.

You’ll want to update me on your progress.

Attached you’ll find a photograph of a car, complete with license plate. The driver was six foot two, approximately one-hundred-sixty-five pounds, blond hair, dark eyes, scar through his left eyebrow. Approximate age somewhere between sixteen and twenty, tattoos on upper arms and neck. I want identification and full background on him. Now.

Grayson made another transfer into Zabrowski’s account as soon as the message was sent. Then he shut a door in his mind on everything related to Eve and her spy. His focus came to rest instead on the two items he’d brought home the day before: the not-a-USB-drive and the index card.

His earlier attempts at revealing invisible ink had gone nowhere, so this time, his gaze was drawn to the notches in the card: two on the top edge of the card, one on the right. The other two edges were unblemished. The notches were small.Less than a centimeter, smooth, no distortion to the card.If the card had been taped to the inside of the computer, could pulling it off—repeatedly—have caused the notches?

Am I seeing meaning where there is none?

Grayson picked up the fake USB and tested its resistance when he pressed it down on the card.Nothing.He thought of the altered photograph he’d sent Gigi, about the way he was setting her up to fail—and then he thought about Savannah and the way people talked about her, even as they fawned over him.