She made a face. “No they won’t. The touchy-feely shtick is your thing, just like I don’t call you for a spot at the gym.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Exactly.”
As she pushed the plastic tent flap aside, he jammed his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie and said, “Grayson’s name put fear on your face.”
She hesitated. “It was—”
“Don’t tell me it was my imagination. I’m an empath. It’s never my imagination.” He kept his gaze on her. “Nothing scares you. Why does Grayson?”
He watched subtle emotions dance across her face as she tried to decide what to tell him. Finally, she said, “Because I think this is his kind of crime.”
The hairs on the back of Reece’s neck rose. “You’re afraid Grayson might be behind this?”
“No.” She ducked into the tent, her words barely reaching his ears. “I’m afraid he might show up.”
Chapter Two
...while acknowledging SB 1437 would impose the strictest limits on empathy yet, bill sponsor Senator Hathaway said, “We simply cannot have empaths in government jobs. If one can know another’s emotions, it would be too easy to manipulate them, and we have only the empaths’ word for it that they would never. Our citizens must be able to trust that their elected officials operate with autonomy.”
When asked for her response to critics who point out the bill will impact even nonpolitical agencies, Hathaway replied, “To those who call the act fearmongering or overreach, I say it is only the start of the protections we need.”
—excerpt from theEmerald City Tribune,
“Proposed bill would limit empath involvement in government, politics”
Inside the police tent, a space heater ran on a generator, and while it didn’t make things warm, it was better than outside. More than a dozen officers were packed into the tent, mostly clustered around a folding table set with cardboard carafes of coffee. Two officers were hunched over a second folding table, concentrating on a laptop.
Several heads turned in Reece and Jamey’s direction as they entered, but most saw Jamey and went right back to their business. The few interested looks that persisted were on her, not Reece, and people being interested in Jamey certainly wasn’t new.
She pulled Reece against the plastic wall at the far side of the tent, officers shifting to give them a patch of space. “Stay here and keep a low profile until—”
“Low profile?”Reece matched her whisper. “If you need an empath’s help—”
“We can’t have it.” And before Reece could ask why the hell not, she said, “I’m getting you out of Seattle.”
Reece’s eyes widened. “I think you better tell me who Evan Grayson—”
But she touched a finger to her lips, so he clamped his mouth shut. A moment later, he heard the voice too.
“—of course, of course.” A sleepy-eyed police officer, probably in his early thirties like Jamey, was pushing out from the crowd, a phone glued to the side of his face. His gaze zeroed in on Jamey. “Detective St. James would be happy to go back to the yacht—”
“Little busy here, Taylor,” said Jamey.
“—and I’m sure she can answer your questions,” Officer Taylor said into the phone. “I’m looking for her right now.” Taylor covered the phone with one hand and mouthedplease. “I’ll drive the kid home,” he whispered, jerking his head toward Reece. “How’d he wander into this mess?”
“I’mtwenty-six,” Reece said. “She’s just tall.”
“He’s my brother,” said Jamey.
Taylor’s gaze darted between Jamey’s light brown skin and Reece’s paleness. “Half brother,” Reece clarified, like he usually had to.
Taylor jammed his hand tighter over the phone’s speaker. “Yourempathhalf brother?” he hissed at Jamey. “Here?I am all for it, but if Parson finds out, aren’t you gonna get sacked?”
“What?” Reece said sharply.
“I’m trying to get him out of here,” Jamey said, ignoring Reece. “If it was up to me, I’d hide all the empaths in the Pacific Northwest.”
