Page 13 of Pulling Strings

“Fitch!”

Pippa’s green eyes widened when she saw me coming, or maybe it was Grimm closing quickly behind me that prompted her to shake her head and try to walk away.

I mentally pinned her feet in place, and she pitched forward, off-balance. She had more than a few things to say about my overstep, obvious from the way her cheeks flushed and her lips puckered in protest.

“Just a moment, little lady.” I smiled, wolfish, andreached for the nearest glass on her tray—something green and fizzy. These drinks weren’t alcohol. They were alchemy, and their effects were anyone’s guess.

I’d almost grabbed it when Grimm latched onto my wrist, gripping it with white-knuckled rage.

“Outside,” Grimm said, his voice a dull roar. “Now.”

He shoved my arm away then turned toward the nearest exit, trusting I would follow.

I blew a breath through clenched teeth and released Pippa’s feet. She steadied herself and flipped me her middle finger before dipping back into the crowd.

Grimm moved swiftly out of the bar. I had half a mind to let him go outside alone and see how long he’d wait before blowing back in here like a tornado, ready to tear the place to the studs. But a glance back at Donovan, still sitting on the barstool, swayed me to obedience. It wasn’t worth making more of a scene and ruining his night. Better to get this over with.

As I followed Grimm’s path, Avery’s mocking tone chased me. “Yes, Daddy. Right behind you, Daddy!”

5

Time Out

The Bitters’ End perched on a cliff near a lighthouse. Gulls squawked where they hung in the breeze, and the ocean crashed against unseen boulders below, raising a mist of salty air. The lighthouse’s beam spun in steady circles, casting into the deep over and again. When I was a child, I’d imagined pirate ships on that dark horizon, their white sails stark in the blanket of night.

Tonight, there was only blackness and stars, with a waning moon reflected in cresting waves.

I shivered, less dressed for the cold night than Grimm, who stood apart from me. He cut a stoic silhouette with his hands in the pockets of his brown leather bomber jacket while the wind whipped hair around his face. I joined him in silence, anxiously waiting for the words that would first come out of his mouth.

“I’m a prideful man, Fitch,” he said at last. “I care a great deal about the work we do and the way we’re perceived by the public. We have a reputation to protect, I think you’ll agree. So, you can imagine my surprise when I turned on the evening news and saw your pretty face captured by every security camera inthe East Side Tower. The scene of a rather high-profile murder.”

Another chill shook me, and I hugged my arms around my chest. “Looked more like a suicide to me.”

Grimm rounded on me, his eyes sharp and piercing as a crow’s. “Don’t test me, boy.” He spat the words. “I’ve had more than enough of you today, and I’ve only just arrived.” He took a breath and held it, settling back into cool composure. When he spoke again, he did so deliberately. “Did you happen to watch the report?”

I shook my head. My afternoon had passed in Isha’s bed, dozing, kissing, and cuddling until she was called away to deal with business matters. If she’d stayed, I might have never left.

“It was quite detailed,” he continued. “Besides the security footage, there were several eyewitnesses who claimed to have seen and even spoken to you.” He counted them off, rage building audibly with every word. “Reeves’s secretary, a maid and, my personal favorite, Timothy Lawrence.” He eyed me, waiting for a reaction that might give something away. “Do you know who that is?”

“No clue,” I replied.

Grimm inhaled deeply as if practicing some doctor-prescribed breathing exercise. “Timothy Lawrence was the young man parking cars for the valet service.”

I huffed a laugh just as the back of Grimm’s fist struck my cheek with a hard knock. My head snapped to the side, and the tang of blood leaked into my mouth.

“You used the fucking valet?” he shouted.

I stifled the urge to retaliate, clenching my hands so tightly that my bitten-down fingernails dug into my palms.

Gulls cawed.

Grimm sighed long and loud.

“I entrust you with these tasks, Fitch,” he said. “Important tasks. But I’m beginning to fear that my trust may be misplaced.”

Because of one botched job?I wanted to snap back. Not even botched since Warren Reeves was definitely dead. So I’d been seen. I was hardly anonymous before today. No one watched me telekinetically throw the man off the tenth floor of the East Side Tower and, while the news thought it wildly salacious to speculate on the extent of my abilities, forced suicide was a hard sell in any court of law.

“Your brother is very eager,” Grimm continued. “And compliant. He believes he will succeed you.” The older man glanced back at me. “I admire his ambition at the same time I wonder what happened to yours.”

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