Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

“Nope.” He looked after Misha with a kind smile. “I do like his style, though. I had a pretty nice black leather jacket back in the day.”

I could picture it. The man had to be eighty, but he looked fifty-five. Tall like Will, with amazing hair.

“Thank you for looking out for him, Senator Grayson,” I said. “When I couldn’t, I mean.” I looked behind me, seeing Will shaking hands and smiling, surrounded by his friends and his town and all the possibilities to come. “At least he had his friends all those years, though. I used to pick on them in high school, but they really did start something incredible, didn’t they? The first Horsemen will be a tough act to follow for future generations.”

Lord help our kids, filling in those shoes, right?

But when he didn’t say anything, I looked back to him, seeing a coy smile on his lips as he stared at me.

“They weren’t the first,” he said. “And please, call me A.P.”

A.P.?

What?

Before I could react, he kissed my cheek again and turned around, walking back to the tavern. I stood there, frozen as I pieced together where I’d heard that name before.

A.P., A.P….

Someone took my hand, and I walked over to Will, all of us setting up for a picture as my feet moved of their own volition.

And then it hit me. Reverie Cross. Edward McClanahan’s best friend and Reverie Cross’s boyfriend. The rumor that Reverie might not have jumped. The rumor that Edward or his friend or both of them…

Oh, my God.

I shot my eyes over to A.P., seeing him chat with Banks, both of them deep in discussion, and I turned to Will, wide-eyed. “A.P.?” I blurted out, gesturing to his grandfather.

William Aaron Paine Grayson, Sr.

The corner of Will’s lips turned up. “Well, you’ll never be bored with me, at least, right?”

I gaped at him, but then…a laugh escaped, not sure how to react to anything anymore, especially after the events of tonight.

Jesus Christ. After helping Damon bury a body, getting kidnapped, making the great train escape, and everything that went down tonight, I supposed a sixty-year-old murder mystery could sit for another evening or two more.

Bored, he’d said.

No, Will Grayson. That was one problem you and I would never have.

Emory

Pr

esent

“So, you want a honeymoon?” Will asked, caressing my arm as he held me in his arms.

“If you want.”

His body shook under me with a laugh. “That sounds enthusiastic.”

I grinned, slipping my hand up his shirt as we laid on a pile of canvas cloth on the floor behind the stage. The catwalk loomed above us, wires, ropes, and cords dangling every which way, and I couldn’t even remember what the movie was about last night, because both times we tried to watch it, we just wanted to watch each other instead. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

“I’m not in a hurry to leave again if you want to wait.” I nestled into his warm body. “I just want you right now. The Eiffel Tower or the Mayan ruins or whatever you have planned would just go to waste on me when I only want this.”

We’d been apart too long, and I was in need.

Sliding my leg over his body, my jeans somewhere on the floor and my bra who-knew-where, I climbed up his body as his hands slipped up my thighs and gripped my ass.