Page 65 of Capitol Matters

“If I may ask,” he began, “what have you been doing with the bodies?”

He turned toward me, so he missed the sudden rise of Sleeping Beauty’s barreled chest. I felt the blood leave my face, adding to the cold that consumed me.

I gripped the tailgate, ready to shove it closed. “I have… contacts.”

Maximus placed a hand on the lowered gate and leaned heavily against it. “Do you?” he asked. “Still?”

No.

Yes?

Sweat dampened my brow, and I used the hem of my shirt to wipe it away.

“A few,” I replied.

Sleeping Beauty’s arm began to twitch. Minor at first, then a full-blown shift that dragged it from where it had been draped across her belly on a slide toward the floor of the Bronco’s hatch.

I caught her wrist with a mental tether and pinned it in place, then bound up the rest of her body like a mummy for burial.

Meanwhile, Maximus stroked his stubbled chin and gazed into the distance.

“Well, I am impressed with what you’ve accomplished thus far,” he said. “Do you think you’ll be able to make the deadline? Time is short.”

Time was up. For Sleeping Beauty, for me, for this cockamamie plan that had started off bad and only gotten worse.

“No problem,” I replied. “But I do have a question for you.”

And an excuse to keep his attention on me and away from the woman trying to rise from the dead scant feet away.

“By all means,” Maximus said.

“Eight people disappearing is bound to raise suspicion. Influential people, at that. The investigators will get involved—”

“You fear those suspicions may be turned on you?”

“I’m a pretty easy target.”

Any one of Holland’s underlings would jump at the chance to slap a pair of handcuffs on me and drag me back to Thorngate or straight to the guillotine to save time.

Maximus nodded. “Mister Farrow, I’m not sure how your former employer handled such things, but I do for those who do for me. As long as you are operating under my orders, you are also under my protection.”

It sounded good. Better than the Bloody Hex’s cover-your-ass mantra. Still, I would have had more faith in him if his first and only use for me hadn’t been a washed, rinsed, and repeated version of Grimm’s endless murder plot. Maximus clearly thought himself superior to my “former employer” and gang leader, but the differences I’d seen so far were minute.

I’d successfully distracted the older man and myself by proxy. I’d also put too much faith in the grip I retained on Sleeping Beauty. A glance into the Bronco’s back end found the woman staring at me. False lashes ringed her wide eyes. She strained against my control, which was already failing to compete with emotional neutrality and coherent conversation.

She drew a breath that pulled at my telekinetic restraints. It was a deep, lung-swelling gasp that would set off a siren scream. I wanted to shake my head at her or issue some kind of warning. If she only knew I was trying to spare her life.

Maximus moved his hand enough for me to grip the tailgate once more.

But the sight of me closing the door stoked Sleeping Beauty’s panic. She raised her head, her hair pressed flat on one side from lying prone for so long. And, with her belly full of air, even her sealed lips couldn’t silence the beginning of a desperate shriek.

I slammed the gate shut at the same moment Isnapped her neck.

Her body fell limp. I didn’t need to see to know what it looked like. I set my jaw and turned away from the car and its contents, swallowing curse words and the sickness that surged up from my gut. Seafood was disgusting the second time around.

Maximus faced away from me, so he didn’t see me squeezing my eyes shut, clinging to scraps of composure to not betray my feelings.

I pulled the glass hatch down and latched it manually because I didn’t have the mental bandwidth for anything else.

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