Page 48 of Brother's Keeper

My lips pursed. “Looks delightful.”

Grimm bobbed his head. “It promises to be quite the event. I expect to see you there.”

I pocketed the card with a snort and started toward the door, but the older man’s voice chased me.

“You could invite Nicholas. Shall I mark you down for a plus one?”

The words resounded in my brain. Bringing Nash to Holland’s party may have been a novel thought if Grimm hadn’t been the one suggesting it. From his mouth, it sounded like an invitation to lead a sheep to slaughter.

Grimm continued in a contemplative voice. “He needs to get out of that bar more often, don’t you think? And you two make such a lovely couple.”

I spun around, flushed with heat that must have been steaming the air above my head. The finger I stabbed at Grimm had force behind it, enough to rock him back inhis padded desk chair.

“Get fucked,” I spat.

He took the opportunity to recline and cross one leg over the other. “Areyou a couple yet?” he mused. “Or is it premature for that? I suppose it’s not like you to make things official.”

The rage that had simmered on the backburner of my mind since overhearing Pippa’s concerns Friday night began to boil over. This was why I was a menace. This was the reason I shouldn’t come around Bitters’ anymore. Because I was tethered to this asshole who made good on thinly veiled threats. Nash’s name on Grimm’s lips was like a nail in a coffin.

“If you so much as look at him sideways, you’re done,” I hissed. “You’ve taken enough from me. I get to have this.”

Grimm raised his palms in surrender. “By all means. Have it.”

He gave a smile and dismissive wave, pretending he didn’t care at all. Having been yoked with Donovan’s fate for the past twelve years, I knew better than to believe Grimm didn’t know how to direct me. Another person added to my circle was another life resting in my hands.

By the time I made it into the hall, my stomach was roiling.

It was the dumbest thing I could have done—admitting I cared about Nash. And I couldn’t take it back. I couldn’t unsay it or unsee Grimm’s ensuing smirk. If he hadn’t known before, he did now. I was invested, more taken with the red-headed alchemist than was good for either of us. If anything, it proved Pipparight, but I meant what I said, even if I shouldn’t have said it.

I got to have this. I wanted it. And now, more than ever, I was responsible for it.

The week dragged onwith no sign of the Blooming Orchid guestbook pages, no more texts from Jax’s goons, and no further leads on the missing persons case. The most challenging thing in my life became keeping Maggie fed, which made for a lot of late nights spent trolling the highway for roadkill.

By the time Holland’s birthday party rolled around, I was in no mood for festivities and considered skipping it. It aggravated my latent guilt to think about celebrating with Maximus’s daughter while he languished in a dank cellar on the other side of town.

I resigned myself to going because Holland made a point of inviting me, and because Grimm’s mention of Nash had weighed heavily on my mind for days. Not that it had convinced me to bring him along as my date. I didn’t even tell him about the party. He was at the bar, and Donovan was at the houseboat, both of them far away from the firing line that was my life.

Checking my hair in the Porsche’s rearview mirror found it slicked back and gelled in place. It was also a few inches shorter, courtesy of a last-minute barber visit. I rented a suit for the occasion, burgundy with a black shirt and tie. Add polished shoes and a spritz of cologne, and I was as ready as I would ever be.

Stepping out of the car, I joined the line of people funneling toward the front door of Maximus Lyle’s house. It proved impossible not to recall the last time I’d been here, standing on the porch threatening the old man’s life. Now Grimm was in Maximus’s place, welcoming guests with grand gestures and open arms.

I worked my jaw while shuffling along with the party guests. The ladies wore cocktail dresses, and the men sported suits. Only an adventurous few had donned a color other than black. It took a few minutes to reach the entry where Grimm—Maximus to everyone else—clasped my hand and flashed a winning smile.

He had on a tailed coat with a cummerbund and bowtie, stealing Maximus’s clothes like he’d stolen everything else in his life.

“Mister Farrow, aren’t we looking dapper?” He peered past me, searching for the guest I hadn’t brought. “Yet unattached?” he added. “Pity.”

“No pity at all,” I replied and gave his fingers a squeeze. “There’s plenty of fuckable people here. Come with nobody, leave with somebody. Isn’t that how it goes?”

I could tell he was swallowing back a reprimand about watching my language in front of his company. But would Maximus feel at liberty to scold me?

Grimm must have decided not because he concluded with the same tight smile, “Enjoy your evening.”

Nodding, I pulled away from him and made room for the couple in line behind me to approach.

Grimm wasn’t able to suppress all his urges, though, and caught my elbow as I passed. He leaned in close. “Oh, Fitch?” he said in a low voice. “Mind your manners. And no smoking in my house.”

I gave him a grudging thumbs-up, then shrugged off his grip and ventured ahead into the home.

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