Page 66 of Brother's Keeper

“That would be rather difficult to explain, don’t you think?” Grimm asked at length. “Whyshouldn’tthe Capitol look into mysterious disappearances, possible voter fraud, and political sabotage?”

I was prepared for that; armed with the trump card I’d been holding for weeks. And, when it comes to poker, holding is the most boring thing you can do. I was ready to raise the stakes.

“Because it all leads back to you,” I replied. “If you’re Maximus, thenyou’rethe one who ordered eight people dead. If you’re Grimm,you’rethe one who carried out the executions. Either way, it’s your mess, and I’m done cleaning it up.”

The older man’s chest rippled with a laugh. “If you think for a moment anyone in this building—in this city—will take your word over mine, you are sorely mistaken.” For all the amusement in his body language,his voice carried a sharp edge.

My nostrils flared through a hasty breath as Grimm concluded, “Say whatever you like. They’ll never believe you.”

Reaching into my jacket, I pulled out the antimagic collar and sent it flying through the air. It hit the back of Grimm’s neck and swung like a horseshoe around a stake, then snapped closed.

Grimm’s body twitched with an all-over shudder as the illusion melted away. He was no longer an aging, distinguished businessman, now a forty-something bearded man with brown hair to his shoulders and a scowl pulling every muscle in his face.

He stumbled and caught himself on the windowside armchair, then let loose a roar.

“What is the meaning of this?”

With the illusion dispelled, Grimm could no longer hide his identity or his emotions. They ran the gamut from fury to fear, and the sight of his panic brought a smile to my face. I stood with both feet planted, watching him process while reveling in the knowledge that for once he felt as helpless and terrified as I did all the damn time.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll believe me,” I said.

Grimm’s bearded cheeks burned deeply red while he tugged on the clasp of the antimagic collar.

“Another temper fit, Fitch?” he hissed. His eyes darted past me to the closed door, either worried someone might intrude or hopeful they would. “It’s truly unbecoming. Can you think of nothing better to do than flaunt your power when you feel the need to make apoint?”

A wolfish grin spread across my lips. “Let me tell you how I can flaunt my fucking power,” I said. “I can walk you out of here, down the hall, and into a room full of investigators.” I curled a finger toward his left foot, sliding it in a single step toward me. He braced, wincing while trying not to.

“You think I can’t be a hero?” I taunted. “I think I know exactly what it would take to save the damn day.”

I dragged him through another step and into arm’s reach. He resisted, predictably, pitifully. I could have marched him in circles around the room, wore him down like a horse in a round pen, and pushed him till he broke. He’d done the same to me many times.

Foisting him off on the mercy of the Capitol would solve many of my problems… and create new ones. Despite his denial, I could only assume he knew what Jax and his ilk had planned for Ripley. In fact, Grimm’s authority was my only hope for the toxic teen’s survival. If Jax’s scheme was as simple as killing a Hex member and taking their mark, why delay? Yes, I’d heard that York and Jette wanted their own admission tickets, but keeping Ripley on ice created unnecessary risk.

Besides that, if I turned Grimm in, I would have to bring Maximus back. The man who ordered my death once before had been given no reason not to do it again. I could dope him with a mind wipe potion and hope for the best, but I didn’t trust him not to renew his murderous intent.

“No need to be hasty,” Grimm muttered, and I could tell it pained him. “I will… redirect the investigators.”

Was this what it took to put the old man on his back? Not raging at me, spewing hatred and condescension? Not so busy trying to grind me into the dirt that he didn’t hear a word I said? He heard me. Loud and clear.

“Good,” I said.

With a pinch, the collar unlocked and returned to my waiting hand. I tucked it inside my suit jacket without bothering to keep the smile off my face.

Grimm straightened, visibly relieved but slow to reapply the Maximus illusion. He touched his neck, pondering. “In the future, you may consider being a bit more tactful in your negotiations. You’ve heard the expression about catching more flies with honey than vinegar?”

I snorted. “Strange advice, coming from you.”

He glowered at me but said nothing further. I waited for the dress down. The scolding. The reminder that he was still in charge regardless of what he would have called a childish stunt.

When the silence became uncomfortable, I squared my shoulders.

“Good luck with the investigators,” I said. “I’m sure Holland will be thrilled to hear that all her progress is for naught. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

As I turned to go, a thought chased me. Holland would likely be suspicious of her father’s change of heart. What if she didn’t let it go?

I made it to the hall, where I should have been basking in my triumph over Grimm, but instead, I questioned everything. Had I done too little, too late? Had I changed anything at all?

Donovan must have beennervous about the case building against him because, when I dragged up the steps onto the houseboat that evening, he greeted me with a hug. Or maybe he was excited about the drive-thru dinner I’d brought. Burgers and crinkle-cut fries had soaked the brown paper bag with grease, and the cardboard drink tray boasted strawberry shakes for three. I didn’t know how Maggie felt about ice cream, but I figured it was best to arrive prepared.

---