Reece opened his eyes. He looked over to his left, and stared straight into the eyes of Holt Traynor, the ex–army general turned Empath Initiative director.
“The thing even an empath specialist forgets about empaths,” Reece said, holding up Grayson’s phone, “is that when I need to crack a password that I’ll—” he cleared his throat “—never guess, I don’t actually have to guess that impossible password. I just have to figure out what passwordEvanthinks I would never be able to guess.” He shrugged. “Andthat’seasy: 2273-2327.” He stage-whispered, “It spellsC-A-R-E-B-E-A-R.”
Traynor’s lips tightened into a flat line. “Where’s Agent Grayson?”
“Far away,” Reece said, keeping his eyes on Traynor’s. “Where you can’t hurt him.”
Traynor’s nostrils flared. “What are you—”
“Was it your idea to send Keith Waller those gloves from Vancouver?” Reece said dangerously, feeling the rage bubble up again. “So that if Evan ever found out, he’d think the trail led to Stone Solutions? He was already suspicious of them, after all; he’d be quicker to believe they were the ones trying to recruit big, ex-military test subjects.”
Traynor’s fingers tightened on the door frame.
“How much of it was your idea, and how much do you just sign off on?” Reece said. “Maybe you don’t want to know the gory details, but you approve everything that’s done to us? You think any experiment is worth finding out how to stop us, because we’re predators?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Lie.Traynor averted his gaze, but it was too late. Reece’s empathy was finally running free, connecting puzzle pieces until he could see the entire picture clearly.
“I’m still trying to figure out why you lied to Evan about that predator theory. I mean, why tell him it was new?” Reece shrugged lightly. “The only theory I’vecome up with is pretty sick. Want to hear it?”
Traynor’s eyes narrowed.
“I was thinking that maybe you didn’t want Evan to realize you’d bought into thisempaths are predatorstheory years ago,” said Reece, “because then maybe Evan might start to wonder if you’d ever been motivated to try to create an anti-empathy weapon. Whether, to that end, you might have sanctioned certain experiments to find out what corrupted empaths could do to their siblings.”
“Mr. Davies,” Traynor said warningly.
“Most of you are pretty scared of Evan, after all,” Reece said. “You wouldn’t want Evan wondering if you’d been responsible for what happened to Alex Grayson. You would have hidden how ecstatic you must have been when the Grayson brothers exceeded your wildest hopes.”
He tilted his head. “But it didn’t turn out how you wanted, did it? Evan was supposed to be your Frankenstein’s monster, your perfect weapon, but he’s got a mind of his own. You should have known nothing you tried would work. You can never take our siblings from us.”
“Parasites,” Traynor spat at him. “Changing, entrapping your own siblings—”
“Maybe,” Reece said. “Maybe we’ve molded them into our perfect bodyguards since childhood. Or maybe it’s the love: you could take away Evan’s emotions but not the years of kindness and compassion from his little brother, an adoration so strong it changed Evan. Either way—you can’t have him.”
“Evan is a failed experiment who betrayed us,” Traynor snapped. “We learn from the results and dispose of failure. Happens all the time. What was your big plan here, Davies?” He gestured around them, weapons cocking in the night. “I didn’t come alone: I have an army with me, all their guns pointed at you. They’ll kill you before you can make a move against any of us. And you don’t have the Dead Man here, protecting his precious empaths. You can’t hide behind Evan now.”
“Oh, I know,” Reece agreed.
“So you just decided to hand yourself over?” Traynor said. “Give us the chance to run some experiments on you?”
“No,” Reece said, drawing it out. “I’ve been stalling. My friends needed time to arrive.”
Somewhere at the back of the parking lot, there was a scream.
“You should have left the Dead Man alone, you know.” Reece smiled at Traynor. “Yes, Evan has been protecting us from you. Because it was the only way to protect you. Fromus.”
Grayson had brought the boat back to the dock, but Reece and the truck were gone. He’d walked up to the road, but no Reece, and with the phone still locked he couldn’t call him, or St. James, or Stone Solutions, or even for a damn ride.
Finally, with no other ideas, he’d gotten back in the boat, gone back out to the strait and started heading south, toward Vancouver and the location Marist had given him. He’d been on the water long enough that he’d come up on the edge of downtown, and the dock Marist had picked for their rendezvous was in front of him when Reece’s phone started ringing.
He snatched it up, seeing Jamey on the caller ID with a picture of Detective St. James. Luckily, even locked he was still able to answer.
“Grayson.”
“You’ve gotReece’sphone?” St. James groaned. It was very loud in her background, the whine of a motor. “What the fuck happened?”
“I’m not sure I know,” Grayson admitted. “I got a boat. My brother is—”
“Alive, yes, trust me, we know.”
