Page 90 of Pulling Strings

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. It wasn’t funny, just predictable and unfortunately familiar.

“There it is,” I said. “That’s what you really wanted to talk about, right? I’ll get to Holland Lyle when I’m damn good and ready, but this can’t wait another minute. I bet you slept shitty, too. Up all night writing me a fucking speech. So, let’s hear it.”

His illusioned disguise wavered, allowing a brief flash of reality to cross his visage. A beard sprouted from his rosy, church boy cheeks, and the slicked back style of his hair tumbled into long, loose waves. It corrected just as quickly and, when his brows drew down, they were slim as though tweezed, and the expression of scorn created the only wrinkles on his much younger face.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, young man,” he hissed, “but I don’t like it one bit.”

I shrugged. “It’s not a bad start, but I’m here for the part where you remind me what a disappointment I am. Maybe we could revisit the idea of me losing your trust or my own ambition. Or what was it?” My eyes rolled skyward as I searched for the words. “Not a disappointment. An embarrassment.”

Grimm caught me by the chin and tilted my head roughly backward. I braced on one leg, barely avoiding a stumble into the holly bushes lining the sidewalk.

Standing with his back to arriving traffic, Grimm didn’t see the attention we were attracting. A pigtailed girl raced by, holding her mother’s hand while staring. Igave her a wave and a strained smile while Grimm pressed into me.

“You lack the barest sense of responsibility,” he said in a gruff whisper. “You have not an inkling of the expectation that comes with your reputation. With your social standing.” His other hand stabbed a finger into my chest. “You represent a proud tradition—”

“Of coercion and murder?” I jerked my head free of his grasp. “We’re thugs. We victimize people. I think I represent that pretty damn well.”

My step forward drove Grimm back. When he tried to set his feet, I pushed with magic until he teetered on the curb, bent over the hood of a parked pickup truck.

“And you’re done putting hands on me,” I said. “I’m not a kid you get to knock around for fun anymore. Hit me again, and I’ll hit you back. And I think we both know who has the better left hook.”

I pinned him there until it seemed he’d relented. But no sooner had I given a few inches of breathing room than did he rage at me again.

“Need I remind you what you were when I found you?” he asked. “A frightened, useless child. A bug I could have crushed under my heel.”

The illusion faltered again, struggling to track his emotions as they took a darker turn. “I made Marionette. He belongs to me.Youbelong to me, and you will behave accordingly or suffer the consequences.”

Behave. I hated that word.

I cracked my neck.

“Try me,” I told him.

Grimm shook his head. “Not you, Fitch. I prefer to deal with more reasonable men. Like your brother.”

Icy fingers dragged down my spine. Old fears lurked too near the surface, reminders of how long I’d spentafraid of this man. How willing and able he’d been to steal every good thing from my life. Any sense of security or safety was yanked away. He’d seemed all-powerful then. Somehow, now, he still did.

“You’re right,” Grimm continued. “I was awake much of last night. After I reimbursed Nicholas for the damage you caused to his bar, Donovan and I had a lengthy chat about his future. He shared with me his aspirations, his hopes and dreams, and we made plans. While you’re busy at the Capitol, there will finally be room for your brother to flourish. It seems he’s been a bit… trapped in your shadow all these years.”

Safein my shadow. Sheltered and protected while I took the brunt of the abuse. Donovan didn’t make it to twenty with clean hands and a clear conscience by accident. I fought for that. Part of me died for it. I did for him what I wished someone had done for me.

Grimm closed in again, but not with violence this time, with an impassioned appeal. “I’m prepared to give Donnie what he wants,” he said. “Or what you want for him. Anonymity and safety, am I right?”

He paused for my response, but I gave none.

“That wouldn’t suit him much at all,” Grimm said, “but he is reasonable. Surely, you can be, too.”

The window behind us allowed a view into the back room of the restaurant. Peeking between the blinds, I saw the men and Maggie at the table, casually chatting as though they hadn’t just been informed of a mass-scale murder plot. Even Donovan had overcome hisnerves and was finishing his meal, plague and all.

Was I the odd man out?

Of course, I was. I knew that already. Not enough of a team player to fall neatly in line, but not rebellious enough to risk the consequences of turning my back on the band of killers who raised me.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You want me to go make nice with the investigator and trust you with Donnie? Believe you’ll keep him safe as long as I—”

“As long as you continue to be reasonable.” Grimm smiled. “It’s not such a difficult request.”

I worked my jaw.

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