Page 7 of Forget Me Twice

Tilting my phone screen towards me, I flick bleary eyes down to check the time.Fuck.I barely manage to conceal a pained groan as my vision blurs and the back-lit numbers begin to swim lazily. I blink dumbly at the display until they slowly start to make sense.

Twenty five minutes to go.

As a ranking member of the Junior Council, I am required to physically attend all levels and nature of Gray Men meetings. As our organization’s Librarian, I’m also expected to make observations and read and commit to memory the complete minutes of each and every one.

Right now? Just thethoughtof reading words is making my scalp contract painfully. Everything above my neck is currently throbbing with the steady beat of my post-bender headache, and there is a very real possibility I might just straight up perish from this hangover.

In fact, I amthisfucking close to diving across the conference table and liberating that ballpoint pen from Foster’s white-knuckled grip. I’m imagining with a clean shot straight past the orbital bone, I could silence the thumping baseline that’s made itself at home in my skull ever since I woke up this morning.

I squeeze my lids tightly shut, leaning my head back against the wall whose valiant effort is solely responsible for my current vertical position. It’s a vague hope that a moment without the bright lights of the conference room might grant me some reprieve.

A low scoff sounds from my left. I crack my eyes slowly, sliding my red-rimmed gaze away from where our junior crew’s Security Officer still sits rigidly, and over to where I find Rhett standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jax like an unbroken wall of delicious muscle and bad ideas.

Bastard.

My intention is to shoot my drinking partner-in-crime a well-deserved scowl, but thanks to the incessant pounding between my temples, I’m almost positive the careful movements of my face resemble more of a wince.

Rhett, our Enforcer, is definitely still wearing last night’s outfit of a black, long-sleeved Henley and black tactical cargo pants. He appears entirely too sober, considering the amount of whiskey Iknowhe was putting away. Did he even go to sleep?

The normally cheeky and easy-going bastard gives me a subdued grin. That’s odd. He never hesitates to heap on the shit when he sees me the morning after a big night and a little worse for wear.

Jax, always the consummate professional, is freshly showered; dark hair wet, beard neatly trimmed, brooding posture in place. He’s dressed and looking devastating in his usual business casual. Today is a white button up shirt, a dark charcoal tailored vest and matching slacks.

After years of practice, my mind is much more proficient at cataloging scenes or documents with a quick but thorough sweep. Theoretically, itshouldbe causing less strain for my overworked brain, but it seems I’m not that lucky. I guess the issue is the sheer size of the sprawling cerebral storage system my mind adds to whenever it sees something,notthe processing speed.

Both men have their arms crossed now as they watch me, a matching tension across their chest and shoulders. Judging by the muscle jumping along Rhett’s jawline, and the pulse hammering away on Jax’s corded neck, I’d almost say they seem…worried?

I don’t have a chance to study that further however, because Sebastian’s eternally cold voice cuts straight through my distracted musings.Shit.I haven’t been payingnearlyenough attention to this meeting, and if his tone as he addresses Faceless Henchman #86 is anything to go by, our Boss is in amood.

The Low Man in question is actually a middle-aged Accountant named George Higgins, 41. He’s kneeling in his eponymous attire, trembling like a leaf at The Gray Man’s feet. Sebastian’s Second-in-command, Dominic, looms from behind, his handgun trained casually at the back of the unfortunate man’s head.

From where I’m standing, I can only see the side of the Suit’s gaunt face and the back of a pock-marked neck, but I’m close enough to see that his skin is flushed a deep red. He’s also covered with an unbroken sheen of flop sweat.

A clear sign of guilt.

This will be one for the Cleaners.

With Dominic’s broad back still blocking most of my view, and the Tequila drummer in my head knocking out a brand new solo, I completely miss what the man stammers out next. But from the sudden hush that falls over the gathering, it’s clearlynotthe answer Bossman was looking for.

A sharp gunshot follows—andyep—that’s a fine spray of backspatter across my left forearm. The ringing that starts up in my ears just serves to amplify the near-deafening noise in my head.

I sigh internally.This fucking morning.

Although the room is packed to the brim with Gray Men of all ranks, the nervous silence continues. All eyes are firmly fixed anywhere but on Sebastian. Nobody dares breathe, just in case he’s still on the warpath and looking for more patsies. Today is definitely not the day to find yourself on The Gray Man’s shit-list. Or any day, if we’re being honest.

Glancing back at the Anxiety Twins, I’m suddenly struck with the impression that maybe Ishouldalsobe feeling some level of concern here. Instead, I check the time again. Only a few minutes have elapsed and there is still a whole slew of mindless bullshit that’s left on today’s agenda.

Yippee.

So imagine my surprise when Sebastian grinds out a glacial, “Adjourned.”There is no mistaking the venom in his voice and for Gray Men, keeping one’s ass intact firmly wins over morbid curiosity any day of the week. Two jittery lackeys, eager to please, scurry over to remove the body of their fallen fellow. The rest of the lower rank members scatter like cockroaches after the lights come on.

The meeting has almost completely emptied out when I hear his angry hiss.

“Librarian.”

The hair on my nape prickles and now I really do wince. Not that my guardian is the kind of man who regularly bestows me with great displays of affection—butfuck—that particular sobriquet was delivered devoid of any warmth.

I turn my head slowly, hoping my wide-eyed expression is guileless as I prepare to face one of only three people on the planet who possess the ability to set me on edge. “Boss?”

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