“You have to get out of there,” I said again, but the next thing I knew, Jameson was sticking his head over my shoulder, yelling to his brother. “You’re looking for a man named Jackson Currie. He’s a recluse, living near an abandoned lighthouse. Talk to him. See what he knows.” Grayson smiled, and that smile cut into me, every bit as much as his kiss. “Got it.”
its giving "im gonna beat him up, no ur not ur on warning probation contract, who r we fighting gussie??"
