“Emotions aren’t—”
“I thought the gloves keep us safe from empathy!”
Reece bit his lip, then said, “They do.”
He knew it would be a lie before he said it. And sure enough, the sound rang sour in his ears, like hearing himself sing off-key.
The gloves did block his empathy, that part was true, but it would take only a second to yank them off and get bare hands on her bare skin. Only a second for the touch of his hands to shred every mask and expose her true emotions to him, clear as words on a page, whether she wanted to share them or not.
And she was still safe. He’d never read her without consent. No empath would. It was a lie to say thegloveskept people safe because what kept people safe was the empaths themselves.
But he wanted to drive the fear from her eyes, so he chose the lie she and the rest of the public needed to believe.
No one knows the gloves can’t stop you from hearing those lies now—
Reece quickly shoved the thought away. He put half of his meager cash on the counter, enough to cover the juice, tax, tip and extra for the cleanup. “Sorry about the mess.” At least it wasn’t another lie.
He pulled his hood over his dark hair as he pushed out the doors of the diner, the bell jingling too brightly behind him as he darted through the sleet to his car.
It was closing on five a.m. by the time Reece arrived at the marina north of the city, and his clothes were still damp with rain and juice despite blasting the heat the entire drive. He slowed his car as he approached the turn-in, his pulse speeding up. There was a police perimeter set up at the entrance, and what looked like most of the force in the parking lot beyond, whirling red and blue lights bright against the night’s tenacious darkness. Mixed in with the cruisers was an ambulance, a black Explorer—and the unmarked navy blue Charger the Seattle Police Department had given Jamey.
Reece gritted his teeth. He’d wanted Grayson to be wrong.
He pulled up to the barricade and an officer in a puffy coat tapped on the driver’s window, which was luckily the one that still worked. The previous owner had not been kind to the car, but that’s why it had been in Reece’s budget. He managed to roll the window halfway down with only a grunt of effort.
The officer shone his flashlight into the car, making Reece’s eyes water. “This is a crime scene. You should be in bed, kid.”
Cold rain peppered Reece’s face as he held up his consultant ID card, a recent gift from the SPD’s public relations front man, Liam Lee.
Your big mouth might make me less work if the press knows you’re officially part of the team, Liam had said, when he’d created the card for him.
Your big sister is worth putting up with her wreck of a brother, more like, but Reece would grudgingly admit the card came in useful.
“Oh!” The officer glanced at the card, but he was more interested in the gloves. “You’re the detective’s brother. I’ve heard about you. Did she call you in?”
“Why else would I have come?” Reece said, becausenowas the wrong answer.
The officer jerked his head toward the chaos beyond. “Go on in. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Reece drove down to the lot and parked his Smart car next to Jamey’s navy blue Charger. He killed the engine but sat in the car, fingers clenched tight around the steering wheel. The tiny space seemed claustrophobic and overheated as he tried to pretend his rapid breaths weren’t loud enough to drown out the rain dotting his roof.
This Grayson guy had been right about where Jamey was. Based on the slew of officers on scene, he was likely also right about why. And as much as Reece wanted to turn around and drive anywhere else, Grayson might also be right about Jamey needing his help.
He stared at the whirling red and blue lights as he tried to slow his breathing. The police would let him help, even on a case like this.Especiallyon a case like this. No matter how much buzz the empathy bans were getting, they weren’t in place yet, and most law enforcement were still happy to exploit empathy if it got the results they wanted.
A shock of freezing wet air swirled in as the driver’s door of his Smart car was yanked open.
“What are you doing here?”
Jamey had found him, her tall figure bundled in a thick coat and a hat tugged over her dark curls. There were stress lines at the corners of her deep brown eyes, but the sight of her was still steadying enough to slow Reece’s heart to something close to normal.
He tried for a smile and managed a grimace. “Possibly having a panic attack?”
She huffed and moved to shield his open door from the worst of the rain. “You don’t want to be here.”
“I really don’t.”
“How did you find this place?” She wrinkled her nose. “And why do you smell like oranges?”
