Page 76 of Brother's Keeper

“These are my terms,” Holland replied. “Agree to them or solve this problem yourself.”

I slumped. Donovan’s words from the night before had not eluded me. He wanted to work together. Be a team. He would jump at the chance to come along on a Capitol job. To him, anything was better than sitting around the houseboat waiting for my irregular visits. If he wanted a taste of the equality he seemed to crave, this might be his last chance. A shared adventure before he left the city for good.

I didn’t need to respond aloud; my sigh and cutaway glance proved concession enough. It was decided.

After dropping Maggie offat the Bitters’ End, Donovan and I piled into the Porsche and headed across town to the meeting place Holland had designated. It was a vacant lot about a mile from the address given by Jax’s cronies, where she outfitted us with microphones and earpieces straight out of a Hollywood-style bad guy bust.

Donovan was predictably enthused, and I was burning through my second pack of cigarettes in as many days.

“It’s really good to see you, Donnie.” Holland beamed a genuine smile, sans sunglasses in the dark of night as she looked him over. “You’re all grown up.” She wore black with a beanie pulled over her nearly luminescent hair. I’d been given no instructions with regard to dress code, so I hoped jeans and a tee shirt would do.

Holland and Donovan shared an awkward handshake before she pulled himinto a hug. While her head was turned against his chest, I caught her gaze and held it, wondering if my anxiety was as obvious to her as it was to me.

“This had better be fucking worth it,” I grumbled and flicked ash onto the craggy pavement.

Donovan glanced aside as well, looking slightly down at me with a frown. “You said it was your idea.”

So I did. A little white lie for the sake of winning back a bit of the favor I’d lost recently.

The two of them separated, and Holland continued to eye me without speaking.

“Doesn’t mean it was agoodidea,” I said in the same grudging mutter. “I’ve got plenty of shitty ones.”

Holland turned back and forth between us, then said, “I’ll follow you there. Felix, Tobin, and Vesper are already waiting. Felix is handling communications, and Tobin will be on standby to put things on pause, just in case.”

“Fitch said he can stop time,” Donovan cut in. I rarely saw him excited about a witch’s powers, but this one was novel enough to have captured his interest.

Holland’s mouth tipped in a grin. “It’s limited in space and duration, but he’s quite good. You’ll both be perfectly safe.”

“Will we be frozen, too?” Donovan asked, ignoring my noisy sigh. “What does it feel like?”

“Like nothing,” I answered. “Over before you know it.” I spoke from experience, having been trapped in one of the investigator’s time bubbles after they trashed my car. I hadn’t even realized what happened; it had seemed like Tobin and the others simply vanished from sight.

In the momentary pause, I cleared my throat. “Sounds like a plan. Go wait in the car, Donnie.”

His dark eyes creased with confusion as he stepped back. “Oh… okay.”

Once I was certain he was out of earshot, I focused fully on the investigator. “After this, you’re getting him out of town.” I stabbed my cigarette at her. “No more delays.”

The stern slant of her brow made clear she didn’t appreciate me challenging her authority, but her reply was pleasant enough. “I have a safehouse lined up in Canada. Nice, quiet town. He can land there for a few months, then go wherever he wants. The perks of being human.”

I grunted in agreement and glanced over at the parked Porsche and Donovan sitting in the passenger seat. A cold chill gripped me but not from the night air.

As much as I wanted to disparage Jax and his tagalongs, they had gotten the drop on me before. Even if I had the utmost faith in Tobin’s ability to keep us out of danger—and I didn’t—stopping time wasn’t a cure for all ills.

I shivered again and scuffed my shoe against the gritty asphalt. Going off script was an option I left open. People couldn’t fight back if they were dead, and my fate was all but sealed. If I grew my kill count by three, it wouldn’t make things much worse. Let the investigators haul their escaped convicts out in body bags. We villains were wanted alive or dead, after all.

“Have you told him?” Holland asked, breaking the lengthy quiet.

Bracing one arm across my chest, I blew out a stream of smoke. “Nothing to tell until it’s happening,” I replied. Not to mention he’d never been a fan of the idea of leaving town. I expected argument and outright refusal, but where I’d caved before, this time I couldn’t afford to. I would puppet-walk him all the way to Canada if I had to.

With a steeling drag on the cigarette, I plucked my keys from my pocket and gave them a jingle. “Better go. I don’t think these are the kind of people who appreciate fashionable lateness.”

I made my getaway before the investigator could speak again, flinging open the Porsche’s driver door and sliding into my seat. Bracing my elbows on the steering wheel, I buried my face in my hands, being careful to point the lit end of the cig away from my hair as I scrubbed my palms over my cheeks.

I felt the weight of Donovan’s attention before he spoke. “Fitch, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t do anything stupid, all right?” I said through my splayed fingers. “I’ll do the talking, and you just…”

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