Page 25 of Pulling Strings

“Oh, no,” Donovan groaned—I recognized his voice immediately. “I missed it.”

9

Under Arrest

Grimm released me as everyone turned toward where my brother stood on the landing above the sunken room. I was grateful for the shadows obscuring most of his face because I imagined it showed the same betrayal I heard in his voice.

“Where have you been, Donnie?” Grimm asked.

“About ten miles from here,” Donovan answered, stepping gingerly down onto our level. “I got lost.”

“Yeah, and you should’ve stayed that way,” I grumbled, earning a side eye from Grimm. “How’d you get here, anyway?”

“I thought you and Fitch were coming together,” Grimm cut in.

Donovan shook his head. “I was running late. Had to call a cab.”

My brow creased. Why was he covering for me?

“A cab?” Grimm repeated.

I swore under my breath. Of course, he’d called a ride. I’d been so worried about my own phone getting blown up with calls asking where we were that I’d forgotten to take Donovan’s.

Grimm’s head swiveled from my brother to me, then back. He must have known the story was a lie, butthat wasn’t what he questioned when he spoke again.

“You brought a cab? Here? Did you give them the address?”

Donovan’s lips parted, but he gave no reply.

Avery snickered in the background while leaning against the dolly.

Grimm threw up his hands. “The valet yesterday and a cabbie today?” His eyes squeezed shut as though he were physically pained. “You Farrow boys will be the goddamn death of me.”

Still giggling, Avery steered the dolly past us. “Sounds like you fellas need a minute.” He bumped his cargo up the step into the hall. “I’ll see you back at the motel.”

Donovan watched, forlorn, as Avery wheeled Jacoby Thatcher’s limp corpse out of sight.

Vinton moved next, picking himself out of the rubble on the floor to stand and glower at me. If he wanted a third round, I welcomed the challenge, but Grimm put a stop to that before either of us could make a move.

“Go with Avery. Take care of Thatcher,” Grimm told the bald man. “I’ll send the boys along shortly.”

It took a moment to register why we weren’t all leaving: Grimm was replacing Jacoby Thatcher right now. Good news for me because it meant the boss wouldn’t be around to give me hell about the disaster I’d made of tonight.

The bald man aimed another fleeting glare at me but obeyed Grimm’s command. As he stomped past on his way out of the room, he caught the front of my shirt and pulled me nose to nose with him.

“You’d better sleep with both eyes open,” he seethed, his breath hot on my face. “I’m in charge, so you’re my bitch now.”

He shoved me back, then spun away, marching out of the house.

I jerked my thumb in the direction Vinton had gone. “I don’t take orders from him.”

Grimm’s eyes narrowed. “You will,” he replied. “While I’m away, I expect you to treat him with the respect he is due.”

“Only that much?” I snorted. “I may be able to manage, after all.”

“Enough!” Grimm snapped, his voice a low roar. “Enough of your mouth and enough ofyourlies.” He aimed that last bit at Donovan, who looked suddenly stricken. “I don’t want another word out of either of you unless it’s an explanation as to why you decided to leave your brother behind tonight, and why you both tried to keep that fact from me.”

His queries posed were not ones I was willing to answer, so I said nothing.

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