Page 75 of Pulling Strings

“What about my car?” I asked.

The lawyer led the way toward the front of the room, to a small door beside the podium whereMaximus had sat.

“It’s in impound.” Talbot ushered me through the doorway. “You’ll be able to pick it up later. Tonight, your plans have already been made.”

I thought to ask by whom, but I already knew. Talbot and I worked for the same person, after all. “Do those plans include food and a bed?” I asked. “Not to be a buzzkill, but I’m dying here.”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid not.”

I groaned, following him through the darkened judge’s chambers and into the hallway beyond.

“Drive-thru on the way?” I offered. “I’m good for it. Grimm owes me half that bounty.”

“Ah, yes.” Talbot nodded. “Though there might be a bit less of that now.”

“Huh?” I paused, prompting him to look back and wink.

“How do you think he paid me?”

26

Now Hiring

Talbot’s BMW pulled into the parking lot of the Bitters’ End alongside the line of people that stretched from the door. The bar was a bustle, not uncommon for a Friday night. It made me wonder how far and fast news from the Capitol had traveled, and who here tonight would be less than thrilled to see this dead man walking.

Stuffing the last bite of burger into my mouth, I wadded the paper bag, then pushed the car door open. I paused, perched on the edge of my seat with one foot on the gravel outside. I glanced back at Talbot, who watched from behind the wheel with an easy smile.

“Thank you.” I reached to shake his hand. “Whatever Grimm paid you—or I did—it wasn’t enough.”

Talbot clasped my hand firmly. “It was my pleasure. Now, for my final act as your legal counsel, may I give you some advice?”

I nodded.

“Don’t talk to the press,” he said. “And don’t go too public for a while. People run hot around here. I’m sure you can handle yourself, but it’s best not to givepeople a reason to do you harm.”

“Got it,” I replied, and he released me to exit the car.

I didn’t watch it pull away, turning instead to the customers queued outside the Bitters’ End. Peace came in familiar places, and this one was like home to me. The sound of distant waves hitting the bluff mingled with the crowd’s lively chatter. I stood still, looking up at the whitewashed siding and shuttered windows I’d feared I would never see again.

The moment of serenity passed in a blink.

“Holy shit, he’s here!” someone shouted.

“Right there!”“Oh my God, Fitch? Fitch Farrow!”

People broke away from the line to cluster around me. Any coherent words were lost in generalized squealing as they grabbed and pulled at my clothes and hair. Every duck or sidestep bumped me into someone else squeezing in. It was funny at first, then rapidly overwhelming.

When someone snagged the collar of my suit coat and tried to bend me backward, I’d had enough. Thrusting both hands downward with my palms flat, I raised a low wall of force. It swept the innermost circle back a foot or so and knocked one woman down entirely. I stepped over her and moved without stopping through those cluttering the entrance of the Bitters’ End.

Breaking into the open air found the entry hall abuzz. Strangers crowded into every corner and stacked up the spiral staircase.

I found no sign of Grimm, or the gang, or anyone I knew for that matter until Nash burst through the wall of patrons barricading the bar entrance.

“Hey, Trouble!” He beamed a wide grin and threwan arm around my shoulders for a tight squeeze. The ensuing palm thumps on my back drove a laugh out of me, and I pulled away, putting space between us so he could look me up and down.

“Haven’t ever seen you in a suit,” he said. The arch of his ginger brows was not unappreciative.

My outfit remained the same as it had been in court, only the tie was stuffed in my pocket, and I’d left the shirt’s top button undone. Letting my neck air out after bearing the weight of the Capitol’s dog collar all day.

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