Reece swallowed and led the way out.
Agent Nolan shivered in the cold wind, watching through the café windows from the street outside as St. James put the files back into their accordion folder while a waitress bused their dishes.
He turned one shoulder, covering his mouth with one hand as he spoke into the phone. “I’m telling you, trying to get intel from St. James is like trying to get laid by a nun. It’s a wonder I managed to find out Grayson and the empath were headed your way and in time to send you the text.”
“Colorful analogies aside, I’m grateful for your assistance,” Stone said smoothly. “But they’re leaving our premises. Mr. Davies has destroyed yet another of our trackers—”
“You track the kid’s car?” Nolan said in surprise.
“We track every empath in this country.”
That sounded damn useful, if not exactly legal. “How’d you swing that?”
“My institution protects the American people, Agent Nolan, and we require a certain amount of leeway to do it. More than that, knowing where all of the empaths are helps me sleep at night.”
Nolan snorted. “What are you scared of, that one’s going to turn up in your house and ask how you’re feeling?”
Stone ignored that. “Tracking Davies provides more of a challenge than most. I need to know where he and Evan are heading next, and they’ll keep Detective St. James abreast of their plans.”
Nolan sighed.
“I can offer you leverage,” said Stone. “Mr. Davies had a panic attack while at our facility. Regrettable, but caused entirely by his own stubbornness and an inability to accept that others might know his limitations better than himself. Of course, I’m sure the good detective would prefer you didn’t see it that way.”
So Nolan would have to sugarcoat it for St. James and pretend to be concerned about Davies’ delicate nerves. Why was everything about empaths so damn ridiculous?
“Beyond that,” said Stone, “we’re hearing rumors about a picture that might give you some excellent leverage.”
Oh great. If there were empath selfies or nudes floating around, Nolan was fuckingdone. “What kind of picture?”
“I’ll let you know when I have confirmation. And of course you have my gratitude, agent. I won’t forget your services.”
The call ended. Nolan palmed his phone for a moment. Was Cedrick Stone’s gratitude worth getting mixed up in the empath circus? Then again, Stone Solutions apparently had fewer hoops to jump through than the FBI. Maybe Nolan could swing this into a career upgrade.
He put the phone away just as St. James came out from the café. “Thanks for the loan,” she said, and she passed him the accordion file. “Any word from your agents?”
Nolan put on his best game face. “Sounds like Reece didn’t have a very good time of it in Stone Solutions. Apparently he was looking pretty peaky as he and Agent Grayson left the building.”
“What happened to him?”
Nolan spread his hands innocently. “Panic attack, maybe? Itisan empathy defense facility; I can’t imagine it was much fun for poor Reece to visit, especially with the Dead Man.”
“Can your agents follow them?”
“Of course,” he lied. “But it’d be helpful if I could tell them their next location.”
“I’ll let you know when I do.”
Nolan glued a friendly smile to his lips and held out his card to her. “Call or text. Anytime, day or night.”
St. James took the card just as her own phone rang. Her face brightened as she saw the caller ID and answered. “Liam? What’s—”
Even at a distance, Nolan could hear a torrent of words burst through the phone’s speaker, something aboutReeceandhandcuffsandEyes on Empaths.
“Liam,” St. James said again. “Slow down, you’re not making any sense. What—”
The voice came again in another flood, and Nolan thought he heardtried to callandfucking auto-response.
None of it made any sense to Nolan, but whatever this Liam person was saying was enough to make St. James’ eyes narrow, and for some reason, chills broke out on Nolan’s skin. Which, what the hell, she was just a hot chick with a badge, there was no reason for her to make a man like him nervous.
