Page 87 of Capitol Matters

Grimm waited another tense moment before calling across the bar. “Pack it up, boys! We can go somewhere we’re wanted.”

Groans of complaint answered him as the rabble reluctantly formed a single-file line moving toward the exit.

Pippa froze in place behind the taps. She must havebeen as unaware as the others until Grimm’s declaration. Nash tipped his chin toward the front door, a cue she took to exit the back counter area and supervise the gang members shuffling out.

As the stools emptied, Grimm walked down the length of the bar, knocking over every glass in his path. Booze spilled onto the floor in splattering streams. When he reached the end, he scooped up the last half-empty drink and hurled it into the wall. The stemmed glass shattered with a pop, and liquid streaked the wood paneling.

“Grow the fuck up!” I shouted after him.

Grimm chuckled. “Enjoy your whore, Nicholas. When the novelty wears off, and you’re ready to resume business, I’ll be waiting.”

The insult struck like a gut punch. I didn’t mind the criticism as much as his choice to say it in front of Nash. And I couldn’t decide if the bartender’s persistent silence was a good response or a bad one.

“As for you, Mister Farrow.” Loose waves framed Grimm’s bearded face as he glowered at me. “You are walking a thin line. Interfere with my plans again, and you may find your usefulness coming to an end. I have no place in my ranks for traitors, saboteurs, or self-important shits who forget thatmyrole is to lead andtheirsis to follow.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Nerves and rage had me strung tight and trembling as Grimm left. The front door closed with a resounding thunk, and the lock clicked over. Nash bent behind the bar, then stood holding a gray plastic dish tub that he seton the copper bar top.

Pippa reentered the room with a wide smile splitting her features. “What was that?” she asked. “Did we rid ourselves of the Bloody Hex for good?”

I wouldn’t interpret anything that had just happened as good. Nash didn’t answer as he started down the bar, picking up glasses and stacking them in the tub.

“Let me help with that,” I offered.

He plucked a dishtowel from the pocket of his apron and tossed it to me.

“I’ll get the mop,” Pippa said as she turned toward the back room.

I struggled to match Nash’s pace as he collected toppled cups. The towel was soaked and dripping after wiping only a few puddles, so I left it in a soggy pile and rushed to walk along the counter opposite him.

“I don’t need you to come to my rescue, you know,” I told him. “I can handle myself.”

He replied without pausing his task. “A simple thank you would suffice.”

Dodging stools, I chased him to the end of the bar. “I mean it. You don’t want to be at odds with Grimm. He’ll make your life hell.”

“You say that from experience.” The final glass plinked into the tub, and Nash turned to pin me with a meaningful look. “And no. I stood by for enough of his shit when you were a teenager. I allowed it, and I’ve always regretted that.”

Of all the people who should have felt badly about the dumpster fire of my younger years, Nash was not one of them. Vinton and Avery thought me an annoyance,like a fly to be swatted. Grimm felt the same way then as he did now, that with enough forceful correction he could hold me in line. Even Isha treated me like a novelty or a blank canvas she could design to suit her whims—and not only with the ink she put on my skin.

I coughed at a sudden clog in my throat. “I don’t blame you, Nash—”

“I was young, too, you know,” he said. “And a coward. Working for the Hex gave me everything I wanted. Success, wealth… and a hell of a burden on my conscience.” Sighing, he hefted the loaded dish tub onto the counter. “I’ve decided I can do without anything they have to offer.”

There was certainly nothing cowardly about him now. I shook my head. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“Not sureyou’reworth it, you mean?”

The warmth that had earlier singed my cheeks returned, but not from embarrassment this time.

I looked him over. His copper hair glowed gold in the downlights and his eyes had begun to develop crow’s feet from an ever-ready smile. I was deceiving myself to think I only came to the bar to get away from Grimm. I craved a closeness currently prevented by the counter between Nash and I.

Nash’s hand rested on the bar top. I thought to reach for it, but his next statement stopped me.

“There are people who want better for you, Fitch. Not just me.”

I huffed a laugh. “You really have been talking to Ripley.”

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