He darted around the illegally parked Prius and crouched in front of the hood. “I should have guessed this was you,” he said aloud as he jabbed the tip of the selfie stick through the grill. A moment later, his press-and-push maneuver was rewarded with a quietclick.
Reece tried the unlocked hood, and it lifted easily. He reached for one of the ignition coil bolts, and it loosened under his grip.
“As I said,” Reece muttered as he unscrewed the bolt. “Come and get me.”
“—as we align on this deeper dive, just here, you can see S.B. 1437 will be a true game changer, leading to a predicted share price increase of more than six percent—”
Grayson watched Vivian Marist make emphatic circles on a projected slide with a laser pointer as heads around the conference table considered the figures. The board of directors meeting had been going all of five minutes, and they were already discussing profit. He recognized a few of the folks around the table, including Beau Macy, the AMI president, listening attentively to the promise of even more money.
Grayson didn’t own Stone Solutions’ stock.
His gaze drifted out the floor-to-ceiling windows, which framed a view of the sound and Bainbridge Island. The interior wall was likewise floor-to-ceiling glass, so that the view could be enjoyed by anyone walking past the conference room. The Stone Solutions’ board of directors sat around the solid mahogany conference table in oversized leather chairs every bit as nice as the ones at Stone Solutions itself. AMI liked to claim they were underdogs in the fight against empaths, but they sure weren’t hurting for funds.
“—and if we circle back,” Marist continued, “we see thatleveraging the synergy of S.B. 1437 and our disruptive new media campaigntogethercould move the needle nearly seven percent—”
Three people passed the conference room’s interior windows on their hall patrol again, including head of security, Wayne Smith, and two members of the undercover response team. Grayson edged his way a little deeper into the conference room before he was seen.
“Vivian,” one of the directors said, a white man with prominent eyebrows. “Will you be addressing the recent SEC filing?”
“Well, the specifics around Cedrick’s illness are still sealed,” Marist said apologetically, “so nothing new will be added to our public disclosures—”
“Notthat,” said the director. “The 8-K Cedrick filed in October.”
“Oh.” Marist frowned. “Well—”
The conference door was abruptly flung open. “Ms. Marist! Mr. Macy! There’s a panic happening in the AMI store—they’re destroying property—”
Beau Macy was getting to his feet, but Grayson wasn’t waiting to hear the rest. Panic meant fear, and a crowd suddenly set off by an emotion likely meant they’d let the empaths play them again. They’d targeted the first-floor store while all of security and response were up here guarding the BOD on sixteen.
He pushed off the wall and darted out of the room, dodging the guards as he skipped the elevator and went for the fire stairs. He could hear the screaming by the ninth floor, and the crowd noise was nearly deafening as he burst out the ground-floor door onto the sidewalk. He twisted his way through the thick, panicking crowd and pushed into the AMI store.
Then he paused. The store floor was covered in destroyed stock but empty of people. Had everyone already run out?
As he stood there, ears pricked for sounds, his watch buzzed. He pulled out his phone.
On-screen was a picture of his F-150, parked along a stretch of curb under a bare-branched tree, and two texts.
Reece:You want to use those handcuffs? I’ll be at the Space Needle for the next 10 minutes.
Reece:Better hurry. All these tourists might make me twitchy.
Grayson shoved the phone into his pocket, sprinting back to the front of the store. Several others were shouldering their way in through the sliding doors, not the security guards from upstairs but at least eight of the high-level responders from the Stone Solutions operations team.
“You armed?” Grayson checked.
“Yes, sir,” one of them replied.
Grayson hesitated, but they’d be trained and ready for whatever might be in the store.
They were not ready for Reece.
He slipped out around them and ran for his car, dropping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He pulled away from the curb and into the thick of traffic, cutting to the middle lane so he could turn and head for the Space Needle.
And that was when the engine started sputtering.
“What the hell,” he said out loud, pumping the gas. But the car had slowed to a crawl, and then it came to a stop, right in the middle of the downtown street.
As Grayson pumped the gas again, jamming the Start button, his watch buzzed. He yanked out his phone.
