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Grayson cocks his eyebrow, gaze narrowing as he watches the road ahead.
“It’s my job.”
“Yes, but I guess you think everything I do is pretty silly, with the whole influencer thing.”
“I never said that.”
I purse my lips and carefully consider my next words.
“You’ve never really seen any of my content, have you?”
“Only the stuff the Order posted.”
Grayson gives me a glance.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be rude.”
“You don't have to be sorry. It’s actually kind of nice that you don’t watch my videos. I find it gets old when people think they know everything about you because they follow your content online.”
I sigh, and run a finger over the lap of my dress to smooth out a tiny wrinkle.
“I like being able to actually get to know someone the old fashioned way, for a change.”
He grunts, and then gives me the side eye.
“You ever wonder if it’s maybe not such a good idea to post your entire life online? Does anyone really need to know what you had for breakfast, or what brand of insoles you prefer?”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. I don’t think Grayson is trying to be mean, but he basically just shit all over my entire profession.
“Well, it beats working retail. Not all of us can save the world by working for the CIA you know. It’s not like what I do hurts anyone.”
“Except for you, if the Order gets its way.”
“Well,” I reply stiffly, “That’s why I hired you, isn’t it?”
He growls low in the back of his throat.
“This isn’t a god damned game, Sunshine. The Aegis Order aren’t fucking around. They’ve already killed people, and it sounds like they want to kill more. You’d better wake up. This isn’t the online world. This is reality.”
Any goodwill I had toward him vanishes like tears in the rain. I fall into silence, and can’t even look at him as we approach our exit.
I was looking forward to tonight, but now it can’t be over fast enough.
8
GRAYSON
Stepping onto thin ice. Forgetting to put the safety on a gun. There have been a lot of times in my life when I realized that I made a mistake a second too late.
Add to that grocery list this particular occasion, where I managed to not only insult Charlotte but her entire career. She hasn’t said a word since we arrived at the Villa. I struggle to find the right words to fix things while I take in Wyatt’s home.
The eccentric former actor has chosen a desolate place for his digs. The villa sits on a rocky cliffside, overlooking a foreboding drop to the ocean below. At this height, it would be like hitting concrete, so if you were unlucky enough not to be knocked unconscious, you would still drown. The lone road leading to his home winds back and forth over itself in a series of hairpin turns.
Yet, it’s obvious that his friends have no compunctions about making the journey. There must be two hundred cars parked on a flat expanse a stone’s throw from the front gate. BMWs, Rolls, and Lambos are in evidence, so there’s a ton of money floating around these parts.
And that means a ton of suspects who might be the financial backers Malloy’s conspiracy minded contact mentioned. Literally anyone here might be working for the Order. Or, possibly, none of them.
Gravel pops under the tires as I pull into an unoccupied spot. Charlotte continues to give me the cold shoulder.
