Reece let out a shaky breath but slowly got to his feet. All around the dry dock, the SWAT team members were on the ground, chests rising and falling.
Alive.
And Whitman and Cora were alive too, Whitman on the boat across the dry dock, Cora on the concrete where she’d fallen off Jamey.
“Phone and wallet on the ground,” Grayson said. “My truck keys too. Kick it all my way.”
Jaw tight, Reece did as he was ordered.
Grayson lifted the phone, the battered wallet and then the keys up into his hands with neat flicks of his boot that let him keep his eyes, and his gun, on Reece.
Reece’s gaze went back to Cora, his chest aching. “What did Cora do to Jamey?”
“You’re well aware I’m not in the answer business.”
“Evan,please.”
Grayson’s gaze went to Reece’s eyes as he tucked Reece’s things away. Finally, he said, “An unstoppable force met an unmovable object.”
“I don’t—”
“A corrupted empath versus your sister’s innate resistance to empathy; they were too evenly matched.”
“You’ve seen it before?”
Grayson nodded once. “Ms. Falcon was knocked out, but it won’t hurt or change her.”
“And Jamey?”
Grayson’s gaze flicked to Reece’s eyes again. “She’ll teeter between sanity and madness until one state of mind wins.”
“Which one?”
Grayson pocketed his own keys. “We’ll find out.”
Reece’s throat tightened. Grayson pointed at the closest boat, a small but pristine skiff with a blue canopy. “I need to deal with Dr. Whitman and Ms. Falcon first.”
Reece clenched his jaw but went where Grayson was pointing.
“What was it you promised me earlier? Your empathy doesn’t work without touch? Not at all, never has, today was the first time?” Grayson had pulled out his handcuffs. “I had it right the first time I cuffed you.”
“At least you bought me dinner this time,” Reece muttered.
“More the fool me, then,” Grayson said. “I needed a reminder that the Dead Man can’t be trusted—or trust anyone else. I’ll remember this. Up against the boat.”
“You don’t have to cuff me. I’ll stay put.”
“You haven’tstayed puteven once today. You think I’m gonna take chances now?”
With a huff, Reece held out his arm, and Grayson snapped a cuff around his wrist, over the hoodie he’d given Reece, without ever making contact with his bare skin.
“You never touch me anywhere but the gloves,” Reece said, before he could help it.
Grayson snapped the other cuff around one of the canopy poles on the skiff. “Should’ve realized you’re so touch-starved you’d notice that.”
That stung. “Yeah, I noticed,” Reece bit out. “You need the protection that blocks my empathy? Is the big, bad Dead Man really that afraid to touch an empath?”
“Maybe,” Grayson said, in his lazy drawl. “Or maybe you should remember my voice made you and Ms. Falcon vomit and ask yourself just what my touch is gonna do.”
