Except he’d already picked his phone back up.
Reece:No more Mr. Nice Dead Man, is that what you’re trying to say? Please.
Reece:If you’re so sure you can handle bad empaths, come and get me then.
He stared at the words he’d just texted Grayson.
In hindsight, maybe he could have written something that didn’t sound so much like a damn invitation.
When Jamey had gotten home, she’d fallen into bed with Liam for a moment of sleep, waking when his alarm went off only a couple of hours later. He kissed her temple, then got up, disappearing into the shower as she rolled over to grab her phone and call Aisha.
“Hey, Detective,” Aisha said fondly as she answered.
Jamey broke into a smile. “You sound better,” she said, happiness warming her chest as she settled against her pillows with the phone. “How are you doing?”
“It takes three cups of coffee, but then I feel almost like a real person,” Aisha said wryly. “How about you? What’s the latest?”
Jamey sighed. “Evan and I are getting our asses kicked by our little brothers and a therapist.”
Aisha snorted softly. “I can’t speak to your brothers, but I wouldn’t underestimate Cora.”
As Liam’s shower started, Jamey’s gaze went to her bedroom window, speckled with soft raindrops. “You mentioned you talked to Cora at Polaris, before the break-in.”
“She was drugged and strapped to a table when I found her. Who knows what she’d already been through?” Aisha said, a rare note of anger in her typically sunny voice. “Yes, she’s dangerous and still responsible for a lot of death. But after what Stone Solutions did to her and her fiancé, I can’t help but feel some sympathy.”
“Yeah,” Jamey reluctantly admitted. “But you’re sure you’re not extra sympathetic because she’s pretty?”
“Obviously not,” Aisha said just a hair too quickly.
“Obviously,” Jamey said dryly.
“Just because I like girls doesn’t mean I like bad girls.” Aisha paused. “Cora did call me Harley Quinn, though. That was kind of cute.”
Lord save them from bisexuals inclined to bad decisions. Jamey rubbed her temple. “How’s Diesel?”
“Poor guy mentioned that he really, really wished he could make an appointment with his therapist to process everything. But since his therapist is—was—Cora... well.”
Jamey winced. “Yeah.”
“But he’s getting better,” Aisha said, voice lighter again. “He told his club that he caught a bad flu in Vancouver and won’t be back to bounce for a few days. They responded that he should take all the time he needs. McFeely’s might be a fake empath club but apparently it has very real benefits,” she said. “Stone Solutions, on the other hand, isn’t somewhere I can keep working, even as a clandestine medical examiner, and I’drather work with Evan and his undercover support network, the Vanguards, anyway.”
In the shower, Liam had started humming, the tuneful resonance welcome when everything else in Jamey’s life felt dissonant and harsh. “You’re not working, though, right? You’re resting?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about what might be on the flash drive the empaths stole from Vivian Marist’s office at Stone Solutions Canada,” Aisha said. “What if it had the names of other empaths? Evan had theorized empaths might be drawn to seek each other out. If that’s true, then the corrupted empaths might realize they can target the pacifist empaths.”
“That’s a good point,” Jamey mused. “Maybe we can do something to protect them.”
“I’m reaching out to all of them,” Aisha said. “If I find any who don’t have a safe place to lay low for a few days, we’ll come up with a plan.”
“A few days,” Jamey repeated.
“Because that’s all it’s going to take to find your brother and get him back,” Aisha said with a firm kindness that had Jamey’s throat tightening with gratitude.
“Thanks,” she said, swallowing. “Nice to hear that from someone. It’s obvious Evan doesn’t believe we can save the empaths.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Aisha sighed. “For what it’s worth, I know Evan can’t have actual feelings about what happened with your brother. But I think, in his own way, he’s taking it very hard.”
“What do you mean?”
