Chapter Four #2
He stared at the words he’d just texted Grayson.
In hindsight, maybe he could have written something that didn’t sound so much like a damn invitation.
When Jamey had gotten home, she’d fallen into bed with Liam for a moment of sleep, waking when his alarm went off only a couple
of hours later. He kissed her temple, then got up, disappearing into the shower as she rolled over to grab her phone and call
Aisha.
“Hey, Detective,” Aisha said fondly as she answered.
Jamey broke into a smile. “You sound better,” she said, happiness warming her chest as she settled against her pillows with
the phone. “How are you doing?”
“It takes three cups of coffee, but then I feel almost like a real person,” Aisha said wryly. “How about you? What’s the latest?”
Jamey sighed. “Evan and I are getting our asses kicked by our little brothers and a therapist.”
Aisha snorted softly. “I can’t speak to your brothers, but I wouldn’t underestimate Cora.”
As Liam’s shower started, Jamey’s gaze went to her bedroom window, speckled with soft raindrops. “You mentioned you talked
to Cora at Polaris, before the break-in.”
“She was drugged and strapped to a table when I found her. Who knows what she’d already been through?” Aisha said, a rare
note of anger in her typically sunny voice. “Yes, she’s dangerous and still responsible for a lot of death. But after what
Stone Solutions did to her and her fiancé, I can’t help but feel some sympathy.”
“Yeah,” Jamey reluctantly admitted. “But you’re sure you’re not extra sympathetic because she’s pretty?”
“Obviously not,” Aisha said just a hair too quickly.
“Obviously,” Jamey said dryly.
“Just because I like girls doesn’t mean I like bad girls.” Aisha paused. “Cora did call me Harley Quinn, though. That was
kind of cute.”
Lord save them from bisexuals inclined to bad decisions. Jamey rubbed her temple. “How’s Diesel?”
“Poor guy mentioned that he really, really wished he could make an appointment with his therapist to process everything. But
since his therapist is—was—Cora . . . well.”
Jamey winced. “Yeah.”
“But he’s getting better,” Aisha said, voice lighter again.
“He told his club that he caught a bad flu in Vancouver and won’t be back to bounce for a few days.
They responded that he should take all the time he needs.
McFeely’s might be a fake empath club but apparently it has very real benefits,” she said.
“Stone Solutions, on the other hand, isn’t somewhere I can keep working, even as a clandestine medical examiner, and I’d rather work with Evan and his undercover support network, the Vanguards, anyway. ”
In the shower, Liam had started humming, the tuneful resonance welcome when everything else in Jamey’s life felt dissonant
and harsh. “You’re not working, though, right? You’re resting?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about what might be on the flash drive the empaths stole from Vivian Marist’s office at Stone Solutions
Canada,” Aisha said. “What if it had the names of other empaths? Evan had theorized empaths might be drawn to seek each other
out. If that’s true, then the corrupted empaths might realize they can target the pacifist empaths.”
“That’s a good point,” Jamey mused. “Maybe we can do something to protect them.”
“I’m reaching out to all of them,” Aisha said. “If I find any who don’t have a safe place to lay low for a few days, we’ll
come up with a plan.”
“A few days,” Jamey repeated.
“Because that’s all it’s going to take to find your brother and get him back,” Aisha said with a firm kindness that had Jamey’s
throat tightening with gratitude.
“Thanks,” she said, swallowing. “Nice to hear that from someone. It’s obvious Evan doesn’t believe we can save the empaths.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Aisha sighed. “For what it’s worth, I know Evan can’t have actual feelings about what happened with your
brother. But I think, in his own way, he’s taking it very hard.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were getting close, wouldn’t you say? Driving up to Canada together? Sharing hotel rooms? You even got a picture when
Evan’s not allowed to take pictures of himself.”
“Not allowed?”
“He’s supposed to be a classified weapon,” Aisha said more quietly. “Stone Solutions, the Empath Initiative—that’s all they see in him, and they want to control the Dead Man as much as they control the empaths.”
Jamey frowned. “We don’t see Evan that way. And Reece especially would never see him like that.”
“No, Reece would have had empathy for even the Dead Man,” Aisha agreed. “But now, very suddenly—he’s corrupted. And none of
us know why. Even without feelings, I don’t think Evan is taking it well. He tried so hard to protect him.”
I’ve gone through the events in Canada so many times, Grayson had said to her over their predawn coffees. I still don’t know what caused corruption to fully steal Reece that night.
“Steal Reece” was the phrase he had used, like Reece had been pulled away from him. But then, Grayson had originally bought the safe
house where Aisha and Diesel were recovering to keep Reece safe.
He’d taken a literal bullet to try to save Reece.
Jamey sighed. “You know, if Reece had sent me that Canadian selfie with anyone else, I’d assume they were hooking up,” she
admitted. “But those two can’t even touch.”
“To be fair,” Aisha said, sounding thoughtful, “an empath is plenty creative to get around that hurdle.”
“Oh my God,” Jamey said. “That is my brother.”
“In fact, if you’re curious—”
“I’m not.”
“—you can check Eyes on Empaths—”
“I won’t.”
“—and read the fan fiction someone posted about them,” Aisha finished. “It’s pretty inventive. There’s this part where Reece—”
Jamey quickly hung up.
The Stone Solutions’ jet had taken off from a small private airport on Vancouver Island, and now landed at another private airport near Seattle.
Dr. Victor Nichols opened his umbrella as he descended the airstairs.
A black Maybach waited alone on the tarmac, the driver, Mr. Huang, standing motionless next to the back seat door.
Nichols strode briskly over to the car. “Dr. Nichols,” Huang said as he got the door.
Instead of the typical bench, the back of the Maybach held twin executive seats flanking a console. Charles was already seated
in the far recliner, the tray table unfolded and a laptop in front of him. He looked up as the door opened. “Ah, Victor! I
trust you had a good flight?”
“Tolerable.” Nichols slid into the recliner behind the driver’s seat as Huang shut the door. “I didn’t expect you to come
yourself.”