Chapter Thirty-Three
We could have labored for years and never engineered an empathy defense as effective as the Dead Man. A man without a heart,
yes, but even more valuably, a man with no wants or desires of his own.
He has become a weapon who can never wish to be anything but a weapon.
—Two-year-old confidential memo from Stone Solutions to the Empath Initiative
Grayson sprinted down staircases and back to the main doors, darting out onto the sidewalk and the street where police cruisers
and unmarked SUVs lined the curb. He hurried past them, rounding the corner, and ducked beyond a barrier, into a narrower
street that looped around and under the raised expressway between the football and baseball stadiums. Here the street was
blocked off, empty save for a grouping of vehicles by the loading door: three black SUVs, a black Maybach, and an unmarked
van like the ones used by Stone Solutions’ Kirkland hospital. Around the vehicles stood eight or nine men in black gear from
head to toe, their firearms in their hands, not their holsters.
As Grayson came up on the group, the backdoor of the Maybach opened.
“Ah, Evan!” Charles Stone stepped from the car. “I was just about to send a team to find you.”
But Grayson’s ears were picking up another voice from farther away.
“Let me go.”
His gaze went toward the parking garage and the street-level door. A moment later, four men emerged, dressed in the same head-to-toe
gear as the other Stone Solutions responders, and between them they were frog-marching Reece out of the building and toward
the vehicles.
“I think the three of us are long overdue for a conversation, don’t you?” Charles said, his tone conversational but with an
unmistakable hint of menace underneath.
Grayson’s gaze stayed on Reece. He was a head shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter than any of the men dragging him
down the sidewalk, still wearing the oversized fleece pullover from the truck, his face flushed with anger and his sweaty
hair sticking to his forehead.
“What I think,” Grayson said, eyes still on Reece, “is that your men should get their hands off Mr. Davies.”
Reece looked up at that moment, his gaze going to Grayson. Several emotions flashed over his face, too fast for Grayson to
parse through. “Well, isn’t this cozy,” he bit out through gritted teeth as the men yanked him forward. “Stone Solutions and
the Dead Man, the dream team, waiting for me together.”
Grayson opened his mouth, but Charles spoke first. “Oh, please,” he said derisively.
“Evan is a liar and our enemy. He’s been on the empaths’ team since the start.
You know that better than most, Mr. Davies.
” He gestured around them as more men closed ranks.
“And you can stop your useless efforts to project emotions on this group. My men wear the same material we make our gloves from. It’s extremely expensive to create these suits, but worth it. And as for me . . .”
His eyes fixed on Reece. “I have been dealing with your kind since long before your birth. The only thing your projected anger
will achieve is making me more irritated with you. I know you can hear the truth in my voice.”
Reece’s expression darkened even further. The man holding his arms behind his back was as big as Grayson, and his grip was
hard. “Have your man let go of him, Mr. Stone,” Grayson said evenly.
“I don’t think we will, Evan,” Charles said. “I told you: The three of us have business together. And I’d hate for Mr. Davies
to be holding out hope that his sister will come for him: Ms. St. James is currently looking for you on the other side of
the stadium. I’ve requested Vivian call and try to convince her to support your imprisonment. Useless, of course, as an empath
sibling would never agree to such a thing, but it will keep them both distracted.”
Reece’s expression grew even more dangerous. Grayson did another head count: thirteen armed men, possibly more in the vehicles,
and guns very close to Reece.
Stone will be ready to run, will probably have both his car and his helicopter waiting, Alex had said. Find him and stall him. We’re taking care of the rest.
Grayson was gonna have to put his trust in Alex. “You still haven’t said what we’re doing here,” he said to Charles.
“It will be easier if I show you.” Charles made a beckoning motion with his finger and began to walk toward the unmarked van.
Grayson met Reece’s eyes, the big black pupils glittery with anger now. “That means move it,” said the man holding Reece,
shoving him toward the waiting van.
“Hey.” Grayson’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise.
The man looked over, his face hidden by a balaclava-style mask, his eyes level with Grayson’s. “What?”
Grayson nodded pointedly at his death grip on Reece’s arms. “You’re handling him too rough.”
“It’s because he’s terrified of me,” Reece muttered. “Twice my size and armored like a tank, but I’m the scary one.”
The balaclava man’s hands tightened enough that Reece winced. “If you don’t watch your mouth—”
“If you don’t watch your grip,” Grayson interrupted, “and you leave any bruises on him, I’m gonna pay them back, with interest.
Understand?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. But his grip loosened ever so slightly as he forced Reece forward, toward the van.
Grayson followed. As they came up on the van, two men opened the back door to reveal what looked like the inside of an ambulance.
An array of medical equipment surrounded a bed, and on the bed, lying partially propped up and staring blankly forward, was
Cedrick Stone.
Reece’s eyes went very wide. His gaze darted between Charles and Cedrick, father and son. “What the fuck is this?” he spat.
Charles made another beckoning motion.
And suddenly, four of the men grabbed for Grayson. But as he raised his arms to fight, Charles moved quickly, and from his
coat pocket, drew a gun.
“What this is, Mr. Davies,” he said as he pressed the gun against Grayson’s temple, “is a hostage situation.”
Jamey stood at the overlook at the Summit Level, gaze sweeping across the field and to downtown beyond. Cleanup had started
on the field far below. In the stands, she could just make out Aisha on a stretcher, being moved to safety.
Her phone began to ring. She fished it out of her coat pocket to see a number she didn’t recognize on-screen. She put it to her ear. “This is Jamey.”
“Ms. St. James.” The woman on the other end had a very posh and feminine voice. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of
being introduced. My name is Vivian Marist, and I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Jamey said testily. “Why are you on my phone and not here at Lumen Field helping clean up the mess?”
“Not that I owe you an explanation, but I’m nearly there,” Marist said, her voice with a new testy edge of its own. “I called
because Charles Stone has made a request of me, that I try to convince you to agree that your empath brother should be taken
into Stone Solutions’ custody.”
“Oh, really?” Jamey said. “The same Stone Solutions that once threw me in chains on its rooftop and threatened to torture
me to see what it would do to Reece?”
Marist made a strangled sound. “I wasn’t—”
“Hard pass.” Jamey went to hang up.
“Wait! Please. I need to speak with you about Gretel Macy.”
Jamey immediately put the phone back to her ear. “Is Gretel okay?”
“As far as I know,” Marist said. “She called me this morning. You see, I mentioned to you that Charles requested we have a
conversation about your brother. But Gretel thought you and I should have a different conversation, about shell companies
and diverted funds and why Charles Stone has been pushing so hard to get S.B. 1437 passed and fresh money in our hands. And
I’m inclined to agree with her.”
She cleared her throat. “Ms. St. James, do you still have anyone you trust on the force?”
Reece stared at the gun against Grayson’s temple, a new wave of fury flooding him. “Get away from him—”
Grayson made a noise of surprised pain as one of the soldiers jammed a needle into the side of Grayson’s neck and depressed the oversized syringe.
Reece saw red. “What the fuck is that?” he barked at Charles, yanking uselessly against the grip of the gloved soldiers who
held him. “How fucking dare you—”
“Calm yourself,” Charles snarled, far too loud. “Or else—no.” He clamped his mouth shut and took a breath through his nose. “Congratulations, Mr. Davies,” he said, calm again. “Your
ability to project emotion is stronger than even I realized. But ask yourself if it really is your smartest course of action
to enrage me while I hold a gun at Evan’s head.”
Grayson’s eyelashes were fluttering, his body going lax in his captors’ hold. “What did you just give Evan?” Reece demanded.
“He’s simply received a large enough dose of ketamine to keep even an enhanced empath sibling docile. He’ll be fine—assuming
you cooperate.”
Reece could barely hear Charles over the ringing in his ears. “Cooperate with what?”
“A very simple negotiation.” Keeping the gun only an inch from Grayson’s skin, Charles gestured with his other hand to Cedrick’s
unconscious body in the back of the ambulance. “You took Cedrick from me. Bring him back, or I take Agent Grayson from you.”
Reece sucked in a breath, cold rage and sick understanding rushing through him.
“It’s a fascinating data point you’ve provided us,” Charles said. “No matter how deep your corruption goes, there are still
people you can’t bear to hurt—or to let anyone else hurt. And Evan here is one of yours.”
“That’s not—”
“Don’t bother lying to me, Mr. Davies,” said Charles.
“I’ve received the report from Olympia. The building was destroyed from the inside out.
An alarming number of bodies were found in the rubble, including Dr. Nichols.
We’ll be locking the empaths up somewhere even less hospitable now, thanks to you. ”
“The hell you will,” Grayson started, speech slurred, but one of the men elbowed him in the gut, hard.
“Don’t touch him,” Reece snapped out before he could stop himself.