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he said, and gave me a half grin.
    “Uh huh,” I said, and stepped away. I took in a lot of air, forced myself to breathe normally, then said, “Except we both aren’t getting hits. What does it mean?”
    “Hard to say. Maybe the information is vague—”
    “Or not accurate.”
    “What are you getting at, Ky?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “But something is...off.”
    “Are you suggesting we were given false information?”
    “No. Maybe.”
    “Why would Grant give us false information?”
    “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe his information is wrong.” But even as I said the words, they didn’t feel right. All PSI agents have a specialty, yes, but most of us have highly attuned secondary senses, too. My intuition, for instance, was often very, very accurate, and I’d learn to trust it. And my intuition was telling me now that we weren’t getting the full story.
    Something suddenly became very obvious to me. We needed an article of clothing from the girl. Not to mention I wanted to talk to her mom.
    “Finish your wine,” I said. “We have a job to do.”
    “But what about our night alone...you know, just me and you?”
    “Perhaps another day.”
    “Really?”
    “No. Get dressed, horn dog. We’ve got work to do.”
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    “Got your piece?” I asked as we made it down into the parking garage.
    “What kind of agent do you think I am, Cain?” He smiled.
    “An aggravating one.” I smiled and unlocked the driver’s side door of a 1979 Chevy truck—color green, I think, or at least was once. It’s now this mixture of rust and bad paint job.
    “What in the hell?” Ayden asked. “Where and why did you get this POS? And I am not aggravating.”
    “Hey now, Bessie has feelings. And, how about irritating?” I laughed.
    “Bessie?” He raised his dark eyebrows. “I am ingratiating.”
    “Get in and I’ll explain. And, I beg to differ some, but okay, maybe you are a tad ingratiating.”
    “Can’t wait. This is certainly not your Audi R8. Glad you see things my way.”
    “You are right about that, about the Audi at least,” I replied, putting the Chevy in reverse. “Seeing things your way…” I shrugged.
    “You gonna give me the story here? The car?”
    “So, you mean to tell me that you don’t have any back up vehicles?” I stopped before putting it into drive and reached my arm into the back, retrieving a couple of ball caps. “One for you and one for me.”
    “Back up vehicles?”
    “What kind of agent are you, Connors? Yeah. Back ups. You know, something so out of the norm from the day to day that you can utilize the back ups to spy on those you’re closest to.”
    “God, you are such a tease. Get to the chase.”
    I put the truck in drive and eased out of the structure, headed to the 10 West. “Simms. He knows where Hope Mitchell’s mother is. He has her in a safe house, and why he’s being so um...vague and really not all that forthcoming regarding the mom, I figured I’d do my own reconnaissance. I may not have gotten anything from Hope yet, but I was able to tap into a conversation with Grant and Hope’s mom, whose name I have learned is not the name in that file. It’s not Katherine. It’s Stephanie.”
    “What?”
    I nodded. “I don’t understand the secrecy at all, but we are going to get to the bottom of it. Thankfully, Grant does not possess any of our gifts and sometimes that means we can work a little bit smarter. Simms is smart, but I think I may have outwitted him.”
    Ayden rubbed his palms together. “Really now? He is a telepath. He also knows how to set up some serious energetic shields.”
    “True. However, I know a secret about him. He can’t read audials like he can others. I also know that you are very adept at your own energetic shielding.”
    “You know this because?”
    I glanced over at him. “No, I have not tried to get into your psychic space if I can help it. But, remember when you were in a bit of trouble