Page 70 of Brother's Keeper

Slipping the cell out of my pocket, I squinted at the screen. An address populated the incoming text field along with a time.

tomorrow 10pm both come or he dies

I wasn’t sure who they thought they were fooling. Ripley was slated for death whether we showed up for the meet and greet or not. As far as what I had to negotiate, I was glad they hadn’t asked because the only thing they wanted from me was my life, and I wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

Despite his attempt to appear disinterested, I caught Donovan watching me over his shoulder. I flashed the cell at him.

“I’m keeping your damn phone.”

He huffed loudly, then stalked off toward the houseboat’s cabin. He went inside and slammed the door.

The cell screen’s blue-white light was glaringly bright as I looked at the message thread once more. I had agreed to another meeting with the bunch of jokers who thrashed then nearly drowned me, and who would doubtless attempt the same again. Saving Ripley from a similar end and sparing Donovan the Capitol’s scrutiny—it was too much to hope Grimm’s ceasefire would be enough to put the bloodhounds off the trail—was a monumental task for me alone.

My brother was right about one thing: I needed help. But not his.

Holland Lyle’s investigative teamwas not the support I wanted. It might not have been the support I would get either but, after pacing the houseboat deck for nearly an hour, smoking, swearing, and wracking my brain for better alternatives, I conceded defeat.

I still had her business card crowded into my wallet. Good thing since I hadn’t bothered to add her number to my contacts or commit it to memory. The text I sent was short, the message simple.

Meet me at the docks ASAP. We need to talk.

At nearly nine o’clock on a Monday night, I didn’t know what Holland’s social calendar held or how long it would take her to respond to my summons. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wonder long.

I’d moved my base of operations to the parking lot devoid of Donovan’s Bronco after I sent him and Maggie on a spontaneous joyride. To the suburbs, I specified, where Holland informed me thecity’s camera system didn’t reach. I’d call him when he could come back. Or not. I was banking on a lot of uncertainties. Namely that the investigator who had once been my friend could see me as that again.

I sat on the hood of the Porsche, having changed out of my suit into a hoodie and jeans. The chain of cigarettes I’d started when texting Jax’s crew remained unbroken, and I’d taken to entertaining myself by flicking spent butts into the open sunroof of a neighboring car.

When headlights beamed into the lot, I squinted into the beams to make out the shape of Holland’s patrol car. I stayed perched on the red coupe until the investigator pulled her unmarked sedan in behind me, then killed the engine before stepping out.

Her white hair glowed like a beacon in the moonlight as she rounded the vehicle. She, too, had gone for a more casual look—a sweater and khaki pants—which I took as a good sign. No duty belt meant no gun and no antimagic collar within reach, but I wasn’t completely out of danger. Holland’s magic thrived in darkness and shadows, both of which were immune to my powers.

She approached with her head swiveling side to side and a suspicious look on her face. I pinched the lit end of my cigarette to drop the ash, then snuffed it out. I may have appeared composed as I slid off the hood and walked forward to meet her, but my heart was already racing.

“Fitch?” Holland glanced around. With no one else in the lot, we had all the privacy we could hope for. “Why are we here?”

I could have asked if she’d talked to Maximus, but itdidn’t matter. What I was about to tell her would undo any good Grimm’s redirection might have done. It was time for this consultant to make himself useful.

“I have information,” I said. “About the case.”

She crossed her arms, defensive and definitely confused.

I coughed a nervous laugh. “Hell, I have information about everything, and it’s all gonna make me look pretty shitty. But, if you’ll hear me out, I think we can come to terms.”

She maintained a guarded posture and cocked her head. “I’m listening.”

“When I came to work for the Capitol, your dad gave me an assignment to help with the upcoming vote. There were eight people he wanted out of the way, and he figured someone with my… colorful history was best used to kill them.” The words tumbled out, bringing more relief than I’d felt in weeks. Something this dangerous didn’t have any business feeling so damn good.

Holland’s exposed eyes narrowed as I continued.

“I didn’t want to. I don’t enjoy the whole Marionette schtick. Never have. It was just necessary.”

“My dad asked you to murder eight people?” Holland asked. She wasn’t as shocked as I’d expected.

I nodded. “In four weeks, yeah.”

“So, the people we’re looking for…?”

“All dead.”

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