“I have larger concerns, I’m afraid,” Stone said, his voice as smooth and polished as a river rock.
“What’s more concerning than getting dragged before a judge over a murder investigation?”
“I’m in terrible danger.”
Nolan sat up. “We can protect you. The FBI—”
“There is only one person on earth capable of the protection I need, and that would rather be like asking the proverbial fire to protect you from the frying pan.”
Nolan’s hand balled into a fist. “The Dead Man.”
“You’re quick on the uptake, I see.” Stone gave a polite cough. “I’ve just learned that the two of you met.”
Nolan’s lip curled, fresh anger sharpening his voice. “And I’ve just learned Cowboy Batman is apparently too unique for something as petty as an assault charge.”
“He is unique, unfortunately,” Stone agreed. “Agent Nolan, what do you know about empaths?”
Nolan snorted before he could stop himself.
“Yes, I’m often the target of that reaction.” The humor in Stone’s voice had a sharp edge. “The US government doesn’t quite share that sentiment, which of course has been good for business.”
To put it mildly. Stone’s blood-soaked yacht alone cost more than Nolan’s net worth. “I know the Empath Initiative has jurisdiction over all things empath,” said Nolan. “But apparently Grayson somehow supersedes even that.”
“Evan and I are well acquainted, which I’m sure isn’t surprising given our respective lines of work. That doesn’t mean I approve of his methods. Take this morning: asking questions is one thing, but laying hands on an FBI agent was quite another.”
Nolan looked out the window at the bobbing yachts. No reason to mention he’d called Grayson a liar and tried to arrest him for evidence tampering. “I appreciate your understanding.”
“It was no way to treat an exceptional agent with skills like yours.”
“You looked at my record?”
“Naturally,” said Stone, like snooping on people was a trivial matter. “You did some very impressive undercover work two years ago. Are you still so remarkably talented?”
Stone wanted something; was flattering Nolan for a reason. “A US senator was found dead on your yacht. You’re wanted for questioning by both the FBI and the SPD.”
“And a smart agent like you knows I wouldn’t ask you to compromise your investigation! I simply want to offer a trade.”
“I’m listening.” And he was, despite knowing he should be alerting the Bureau and having the call traced.
“I fully intend to come forward when I’m able to do so,” Stone promised, “and I fully intend to cooperate. And at that time, I’m offering to work exclusively with you.”
That had Nolan sitting up even straighter. That kind of access, the attention and leverage it would bring—“And in exchange?”
“You provide me with updates on Evan Grayson.”
“Why?” Nolan said suspiciously. “You knew he and I had a run-in this morning. You must already have a source.”
“I can keep up with the FBI and the police, it’s true. Evan, however, is a different matter. He operates on his own terms, with complete autonomy. I believe that’s dangerous. And I believe you might agree with me.”
Nolan stared at the yachts, white against the gray sky and sea. “You propose this like you think I could get close to Agent Grayson.”
“You can’t,” said Stone. “Nor would it be good for your health to try. But you can get close to Detective St. James.”
Nolan frowned. “St. James? Really?”
“Her brother is an empath. Evan will have a sharp eye on him, and she, in turn, will have a sharp eye on Evan.”
Nolan had already had more than enough of St. James and her whiny brother. “We didn’t exactly get along this morning.”
