Page 20 of Brother's Keeper

I emptied the tiny cup, then returned it to the tray table. “He said he knew me from prison.” Shrugging prompted a dull stab of pain that sent me reaching forthe button again. “I figured you could put two and two together.”

Her cupped hands muffled her voice as she replied, “Even so, it might have been an important detail to mention. Useful information.” She sat back and swatted at the air. “Why did he attack you?”

“I have something he wants.” I raised my left shoulder in a careful gesture I hoped she understood.

“All that for a status symbol?” Holland rolled her eyes. “He’s already in the gang. Running it if you’re inclined to believe that.” She scoffed, then added in a lower voice, “Which I’m not. And, if he got the mark, he’d be wearing it straight to prison. He must have known we’d arrest him for going at you like that.”

I snorted, remembering the attempted murder in Thorngate’s cafeteria. It had been bold and in broad daylight, with guards looking on. “Yeah, he’s a fucking dim bulb,” I mumbled.

Standing again, Holland opened and refilled the water cup. “You need fluids,” she explained, handing it to me.

I took it but was in less of a hurry to drink this time. Instead, I watched the investigator as she walked slowly across the room. Stopping in front of the window, she stood with her back to me and her hands on her hips.

Her face was reflected in the glass, her expression too faint to decipher. “Are you going to be a liability on this case?”

“What do you mean?”

A breath swelled her chest. “Should I be concerned about my team?” she asked. “Myself? You?”

She’d removed her suit jacket to reveal a white silk blouse with black pin dots. Bright patches of red stained her sleeve cuffs and the hem of the shirt.

“I wasn’t prepared for our first encounter with a Bloody Hex member to end with you in a hospital bed,” she said.

I eyed her for a moment before replying, “You know what they say about gang life: blood in, blood out.”

“More like bleed out.” She shuddered.

Tentatively, I peered at my bandaged arm. Magical healing was speedy and effective, more so the faster treatment was administered. Since I had only needed to cross the building to receive medical attention, I would be put to rights in twenty-four hours or less.

“You never need to worry about me, Investigator.” I offered a sideways smirk. “I’m a scary bad guy, remember? Used to taking care of myself.”

The obvious question went unasked. What would I have done if not for Tobin stopping time and Vesper using my magic when I couldn’t? I was glad Holland didn’t press the issue. If she had, I didn’t know what I would say. Jax got the drop on me. It was surprising, embarrassing, and a little bit frightening.

My reassurance must have been enough to placate her or free her to move on to other topics because she began anew. “About what Vesper said…”

Oh, yes. The power vampire who leeched off my brain and then bragged about it. Called me out in front of everyone. Seemed to be a habit among investigators.

“This is something I need to discuss with her more than you,” Holland continued, “but it’s best we don’tspread that around. Faith in the Capitol remains tenuous. We don’t need the citizens questioning our judicial process, as well.”

It was no revelation to her. She’d seen me in action at Avery’s Wild West bank heist. Even Maximus admitted he knew the defense that had earned my second lease on life was based on mistruths.

Marionette was alive and well. A capable killer turned double agent. It was honestly satisfying to have my reputation restored. I couldn’t help but think being publicly discredited, then pressed into the service of the Capitol, was what gave a peon like Jax the idea to take a shot at me.

With him back behind bars, I felt more at ease, but he had loyal followers in Jette and York. The other Hex lackeys were no fans of mine, but they knew better than to upset the order of things by trying to murder their superiors.

Holland remained, waiting for my response.

I raised my cup-bearing hand to give a mock salute. “Got it. No bragging, no showboating,” I said. “Just call me Average Fitch.”

Her dark brows dipped below the frames of her sunglasses. “Don’t oversell it.”

“Me?” I gasped, feigning offense. “Never.”

With a nod, she left her post by the window and started toward the exit. “Take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow, too.”

“Is that the going rate for PTO?” I nibbled on the straw sticking out of my water cup. “If I died and had to be resurrected, could I get a week?”

Holland glanced back in time to catch my grin. “Gallows humor? From what was almost your deathbed?”

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