Page 1 of Brother's Keeper

Tears burned my eyesas I stomped the gas pedal all the way to the floor. My view through the windshield was a watery blur, but I didn’t need to see to know the way. It was bright out, the wrong time of day for murder, but delaying would only give time for these feelings to fester. Already they ate at me, fear and desperation consuming a hope I should never have had.

Failing at the job I’d been assigned was not my first mistake. Despite being typecast as a killer and burdened with Maximus Lyle’s dirty work, I’d believed there was a future for me. That the court’s innocent verdict was more than an excuse to keep me around long enough to clear the way for politics. For progress.

After leaving Grimm and the others at the warehouse, I dropped Donovan off with Nash. My circle of trust was shrinking by the moment, perhaps down to only those two. I didn’t have enough faith in myself to tell Nash where I was going or why. Couldn’t get throughit without losing my composure, and I didn’t want him to see me weak again.

Leaving my brother had consisted of shoving him out into the Bitters’ End gravel lot and ignoring the comment he made about Nash not being a babysitter, and him not being a baby.

But Donovan had no place in this. It was my job and letting him meddle in gang business had caused nothing but trouble for both of us.

Wiping the hem of my tee shirt across my face cleared the watery line from my vision. I looked like a mess with sweatpants stuffed into my boots and my just-got-fucked hair reflected in the rearview mirror. Frowning, I dragged my fingers through the mussed blond locks. If I’d known how today was going to go, I would have insisted on a shower.

Rolling into Maximus’s neighborhood changed the landscape to staggering homes on sprawling lots. The grass was perfectly green and bushes in full bloom. Landscaping was a lucrative profession in a magical society—one of a few talents that could be used with reckless abandon. Humans didn’t fear flowers and fertilizer, and we capitalized on that.

I tested my hands on the steering wheel, stiff from holding on too tightly for the past twenty-minutes. The Bronco bumped down the Lyles’ private drive, flanked by pillars topped by marble statues. Angels or some shit I didn’t bother looking closely enough at to discern.

The Lyle estate perched on a low hill, blindingly white and beautiful. Strange to think I’d been here two weeks ago, sitting at Maximus’s dining room table daysafter he’d ordered my death.

The image of the kill order flashed across my mind, sparking rage anew. I’d been manipulated—used—and was set to be disposed of, which left me with no choice. Maximus Lyle had to die before he killed me first.

Stopping in the guest lot, I shifted into park and plucked the keys from the ignition. On a typical Friday, Maximus would have been at the Capitol building, but I had it on good authority that he’d taken the day to languish at home. He was likely monitoring the outcome of the vote. Judging from his recently failing public opinion and the votes cast by five of the people he’d hired me to assassinate, I didn’t have high hopes for his success.

I stepped out and started up the walk toward the front porch before pausing to consider my strategy. Jacoby Thatcher’s house had been outfitted with security cameras and a silent alarm. Maximus would have the same and more. That meant my attack needed to be swift and decisive. I could cut him down the moment he opened the door or let myself in and slink through the house, eliminating him before he had a chance to call for help.

Either of those options would have been wiser than what I chose to do instead when I stopped on the welcome mat and rang the doorbell.

Several seconds after the last chime, I saw a figure through the beveled glass panes. With a click, the deadbolt unlocked, and the door swung inward. Maximus stood wearing casual clothes. He looked haggard and somehow older.

Surprise filtered over his wrinkled features. As an empath, Maximus was a master of emotion, which put him leaps and bounds ahead of me. I’d seen the camera fixed in the corner of the porch covering and didn’t discount the video doorbell filming me at this very moment. But those things were less important than the question nagging at my mind.

“Is it true?” I asked.

He blinked as though he hadn’t heard me, then looked past me to survey the front lawn. “Mister Farrow, this is highly irregular. I didn’t expect you to make a habit of these house calls.”

A twitch of my index finger turned his head over and down, directing his eyes to meet my narrow ones. “I asked you a question.”

The subtle use of magic failed to ruffle him or clear the look of disdain from his face. “Yes, I heard, but I don’t know what you mean or what you’re doing here. You must know your consultancy position was terminated.”

“I didn’t, actually,” I replied. “I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Hence the termination,” Maximus quipped. “I expect a certain level of professionalism from my employees. Namely that they do their jobs well and show up for work when they’re scheduled. It helps if they return important phone calls, as well.”

My cell had been abandoned on Nash’s bedside table with a dead battery and a backlog of voicemails I would never listen to. As for the jab about doing my job, I was prepared for that and had a barb of my own.

“I gave you the plague cure,” I said. “Brought you a dead woman’s body, saved your stupid gala from a vat of poisoned champagne, and I stopped Avery Hale from putting a bullet in your daughter’s brain. What did I need to do to prove myself to you? Did I ever have a chance?” My muscles tensed to trembling.

Maximus remained in the doorway, unmoved physically or emotionally by my tirade. His salt and pepper brows knit together as he replied, “None of that matters if you can’t be relied upon. Yes, you gave more than I expected, including more spectacle than the Capitol has seen in some years. You know how to cause a stir.”

“It’s a talent.” I gestured with a flourish that would usually accompany a bow.

“And,” the older man continued, “I cannot endorse you if it risks my reputation or shakes the faith of the citizens.”

Endorse me? He would do far less than that by sending out an all-call for my head. The death warrant Grimm had showed me gave a license to kill to every investigator in the department. It made me a wanted man again, a status I had only barely shaken.

“So, you’re going to win them over by executing me? Is that it?” I asked. “Pacify the masses with a bit of bloodshed? Always a crowd pleaser.” I huffed a laugh.

“What are you talking about?”

“I did everything you asked!” I shouted.

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