Surrender A Section 8 Novel - By Stephanie Tyler Page 0,81

make those decisions. We can’t trust you.”

She needed to prove she could be trusted, but how? All these men—and Avery—their lives were on the line like hers . . . because of her. “I’m not. I haven’t had contact with Rip in six years.”

“Then how did you know his plan?” Dare asked finally, and she told him the truth she’d been holding back from him, from Darius and Adele.

“Because I’m psychic—I know things before they happen. At least that’s what I was able to do at one point in time,” she admitted.

There was dead silence for a long minute as Dare stared at her, brow furrowed. Key was expressionless as Jem pulled up a chair and said, “I think we’re in for a long explanation.”

Dare came up behind him, grabbed him before he could sit. “I’ll talk to Grace alone. You and Key take shifts at the door, just in case.”

“Sweetheart, if you can predict the future, why didn’t you know about Powell coming for you before this?” Jem continued as if he hadn’t heard a word Dare said. “Or maybe you did and decided to play both sides of the fence.”

“I haven’t been able to predict anything for a long time.” And that was the truth. It had all started with that sudden, unexpected burst of knowledge that Dare was coming for her, and continued into the situation with Marnie . . . then predicting the fire.

But was that first a premonition or wishful thinking? She’d been thinking of S8 and Darius and Adele during recent months, surprised she’d heard nothing from them.

“You’ve had one before—at the house, right before Marnie called and we went to her house.”

She wanted to deny it but knew they were past that point, both on her end and because of the trust they’d built between them.

Would he believe her? Or would he believe her and decide she was too much of a liability to him . . . or worse, an asset to Rip?

None of the options were very good. She hated this moment, because once again, her whole life hung in the balance. She twisted her hands together hard as she answered, “Yes. It’s my third this week. Before that . . . it’s been a while.”

“How long?”

“They’re not like they were before, when I was much younger. Now they all seem to come when there’s danger near—they only come to me when there’s trouble. In truth, that’s the way it is for most predictions—the stronger the danger or the joy or the sadness that’s coming, the easier it is to feel them.”

When she said that, Dare moved away from her, and she got up to follow him. Touched his shoulder. Spoke his name.

Fell right into his trap. He turned to her, said, “If you’re really psychic, you’d know we were coming for you.” He pressed her against the wall. Her breath came in quick gasps. “Did you know? Can you predict the future . . . or did Rip predict it for you?”

“I’m not lying about Rip. I’m not,” she swore. “I haven’t been able to predict the future for a long time. That’s the truth.”

“Why now?”

Because I’m healing . . . falling in love. Trusting someone. “I don’t know,” she lied.

“Did you set me up?” he demanded.

“I didn’t know who was coming first, the white knight or the black one,” she whispered. “I didn’t know until you touched me.”

* * *

Dare ground his jaw so hard he was surprised nothing cracked. His head throbbed as he ran back all the intel he’d memorized about Richard Powell over the past weeks—it all amounted to shit.

Grace could be pulling the greatest ruse ever. He had to be the one to pick apart the truth from the lies.

How was he supposed to build on a foundation that had never been solid or stable to start with? And yet, everything about Grace Powell begged him to.

Darius took her in.

Then again, his father had done a lot of questionable things in his time. And as much as he hated to admit it, Jem had a point about everything. Trusting a woman after kissing her in this kind of situation bordered on something close to suicide.

Like any man in his situation, asking for help was out of the question. He would figure it out himself and would make sure it didn’t come back to bite Avery in the ass.

He needed to hear more. Apparently, so did Jem and Key—and he couldn’t blame them—but they’d moved off