Page 86 of Pulling Strings

“Sure.”

Jeans slid on over boxers, and I took a handful of steps to the sink counter, retrieving the capless toothpaste and my toothbrush. I left the water running,hoping to drown out whatever the other man might have said.

He waited till I had scrubbed, spit, and rinsed to speak. “You’ve got a lot of anger, mate.”

“Pretty sure it’s just my personality.” I cranked the faucet off.

Why had I let him in? Now he lingered as a dark shadow lurking in the corner of my room, judging me from behind his scene hair swoop and raccoon-ringed eyes.

I was quickly running out of ways to ignore him but, when I turned around ready to ask what brought him here, he beat me to it.

“You know, you could run the Bloody Hex.”

He stared at me, unapologetic. More than that, he was unafraid of me and my ability to out him to Grimm for even suggesting such a thing.

I met his gaze, stunned until the absurdity of his claim made me chuckle. “How do you figure?”

“You’re powerful. Capable.” He shifted in the chair to kick one leg over the other. “People would follow you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to run any gang. Much less this one.”

Ripley gave the room another visual sweep. “Perhaps not.”

The longer he sat, the deeper the idea wiggled into my brain. With Donovan’s allegiance sworn, stepping up my leadership in the gang would enable me to protect him. I could weigh in on jobs assigned—or not—and, if the current goal was to grow our numbers, I had opinions about that, too.

Before my imagination ran away with me, I dug my heels in.

“What do you want?” I snapped at the skinny teen,stirring him from silence. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t stand, though I wished he would so this would feel less like a lecture or a meeting I’d been called into.

“I believe I misjudged you,” Ripley said. “I assumed Grimm and the others got their claws in you when you were too young. Too impressionable. Directable. I thought you were a lost cause, and that all the good your family put into you was for naught.”

My nose wrinkled. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking a lot for someone who’s known me less than a week.”

He pushed forward then, bracing bony elbows on his thighs. “Fitch…” His head tilted to hold my gaze. “May I call you Fitch?”

I shrugged.

“Why did you tell me your brother was dead?”

“That’s the party line,” I muttered. “Always has been.”

“I suppose that’ll be changing now.”

He knew. Which meant everyone else did, too.

That spurred me to break away, remembering the cigarettes left in the slacks that now lay in a soggy pile on the bathroom floor. Curse words tumbled out before I reached into the pocket and found the pack a disintegrated mess of melted paper and shag. In the midst of it, Holland Lyle’s business card remained mostly intact thanks to its heavily-glossed cardstock. I plucked it from the tobacco carnage and set it on the sink counter on my way past.

“We are alike, you and I,” Ripley said.

God, is he still talking?

“And, I dare say, we want the same things. You for your brother, and me for Maggie.” Ripley stood, more fervent than I’d seen him yet. I stopped in my tracks togive him the attention he clearly wanted.

“As long as Grimm is in charge, things will continue as they are,” he explained. “Or they may get worse. Your brother is the only leverage Grimm has over you. Be it to keep you close, force you into line, or to bend a knee at his command. He knows your weakness, and he exploits it. Believe me when I say he will continue to do exactly that as long as you allow it.”

“You’d know, huh?” I scoffed. “That’s why you’re here.”

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