27. RESCUE EFFORTS
After dropping Maggie off at 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 him into 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 a good idea,” 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…”
“Stand there and look pretty?”
I peered over to find him smirking. “Yeah.” I snuffled a breath. “That.”
He poked an elbow into my ribs, trying and failing to ease a smile out of me. “You gotta admit, this is kinda exciting.”
Shoving the key in the ignition, I turned the engine over. Themepark rides, all-you-can-eat buffets, driving a car as fast as it would go, those things were exciting.
This wasn’t exciting at all. It was terrifying .
The second meeting place was in the heart of the warehouse district, not far from the building where Grimm had dumped the bodies of the kidnapping victims. I thought about telling Holland as much when I got the chance since I was such an open book these days but decided against it.
I pulled up outside a dilapidated building smaller than those towering nearby. Finding no other cars in sight prompted me to check Donovan’s cell for the address one last time. When everything checked out, I passed the phone to him.
“Does this mean I’m ungrounded?” He took it and stuffed it in his hip pocket before I could change my mind.
I pushed the car door open, then stood and turned toward the metal double doors that comprised the entrance of the place. Donovan followed suit and came around the hood of the Porsche in a rush, colliding with the wall of force I threw out to slow his advance.
“Ow, Fitch!” He staggered back, rubbing his nose.
“Stay behind me,” I snapped. “And keep it down.”
He groaned and dabbed his fingers to his face in a dramatic check for blood. “Don’t they know we’re coming?”
My face twisted in a grimace. They knew, all right.
Another agitated wave shooed him into line behind me. “Anybody out there?” I muttered into the microphone taped across my chest.
“I hear you, Fitch.” Felix’s voice came through the low-profile earbud as a simultaneous irritant and relief. “Can you hear me?”
“You know, I’m wondering why they’re wasting someone with your talents on radio duty because I could use some fucking good luck about now.”
“Because Holland can shadow shape to get herself in the building, and Vesper copied that power to get herself and Tobin in. We talked about this earlier…”
My head started nodding halfway through his statement, and I wished the earbud had a mute button. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered. “So, do we just walk in there, or what?”
“Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
Easy for him to say.
“Are the others here already?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Did they find Ripley?”
Donovan pressed against my back, trying to eavesdrop as though he couldn’t hear just as well on his own earpiece.
“Holland is scouting the building now,” Felix replied. “She’ll let us know when she has him.”
That made for quite the mental image: Ripley breathing fumes on the woman trying to rescue him. She would be poisoned or dead, the rest of the team would think I set them up, and then leave Donovan and me to fight for our lives.
I cleared my throat. “No offense, but I don’t think he’s gonna be happy to see investigators breaking down the doors. You should let me warn him, at least.” If he was even here, and that was a big if.
A pause preceded Felix’s reply. “Not sure how we would do that, but we can try.”
Ours was an imperfect plan. Not how I would have done things, but maybe that was for the best. My schemes rarely worked out the way I intended. It might do me good to give someone else the reins.
Regardless, I had the telekinetic equivalent of an itchy trigger finger, ready to snap Jax in half the moment I saw the white of his one eye.
A few dozen feet away, the building waited. I was stalling. I knew it, and I wondered if Donovan did, too. His idea of a grand adventure was turning into a private viewing of his big brother’s anxiety. What I’d told Holland was proving true already. He was a liability, and he made me weak.
I shook out my hands and spoke over one shoulder to Donovan. “Stay close and quiet. Come on.”
As we walked toward the shambling brick structure, my mind raced. We had come to negotiate, but what did I have to offer the men and woman who wanted me dead? More than that, what was I doing here that was worth endangering my brother’s life?
Rescuing Ripley was secondary to my purpose. Admittedly, I owed him for sticking his neck out for me, and I didn’t want to be stuck with Maggie in the event of his death, but I would never choose him over Donovan. I was risking Donovan’s life for the sake of saving it. Jax had made clear he intended to kill all three of us, and I couldn’t allow someone that dangerous to live .
When we reached the dented metal door, I paused long enough to breathe before opening the one on the right. Light from inside, previously obscured by painted-over windows above, escaped in a wide, yellow beam.
Part of me expected the scene that had greeted me the last time I came to this side of town—Grimm and the other members of the Hex lounging about. Instead, we entered into a vacant room. It was expansive and bare save for wooden crates stacked nearly to the ceiling and lining the back wall. A hallway in the corner led to other parts of the building. Metal ladders provided access to a catwalk that ringed the perimeter of the second level, which was connected by a bridge across the middle of the space.
I looked around, finding ample shadows where Holland or Vesper and Tobin could hide, but I hesitated to search too hard without knowing who might be watching.
Donovan came alongside me to whisper, “Where is everybody?”
I shook my head, glancing at every corner and still somehow missing the black beast that came from above until it sprung into the air. It descended from the metal walkway to land effortlessly, and damn near noiselessly, on four padded paws. The panther approached us, his shoulders and haunches rolling through a sauntering stride.
My hands twitched with the instinct to attack, remembering how that same animal had thrown itself at me several days prior. The big cat’s lone eye glinted, and its lips peeled back from sharp, ivory teeth in what I thought was a snarl until Jax’s voice rumbled up from the beast’s chest.
“Hard to say which of us is dumber, showing up like this.” He reared back on his hind legs in a smooth shift into human form. He looked as greasy as ever with black hair stringing past his shoulders and his clothes perpetually wrinkled. I considered myself lucky he didn’t shapeshift in the nude like werewolves on TV, so I didn’t have to stare at what was bound to be a singularly unimpressive cock.
As he came closer, I fought the urge to backpedal and struggled even harder to keep from barring my arm across Donovan’s chest and telegraphing my obvious weakness. I couldn’t decide what to do because focusing on the man rapidly encroaching stole from my awareness of the rest of the room and the inevitable arrival of the two other villains I suspected to be onsite.
“You said you wanted to negotiate,” Jax began, “and I wanna know what the hell you’ve got to offer that’s more lucrative than your lives. So, let’s chat. What’s your angle, Farrow? I don’t suspect you came here to die. Though, if you did, I’m happy to help you out.”
“Keep him talking.” Felix’s voice slipped into my ear, and I jumped.
It was a timely reminder of the earpiece and microphone capturing everything being said. A note to handle this conversation with care so as not to give the investigators any ideas or information I didn’t want them to have.
“Holland found your friend,” Felix continued. “But no sign of Jette Black and York Tompkins. ”
“Is Rip okay?” Donovan squeaked before I mentally shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked. His question was meant for the man in our ears, but Jax fielded it without so much as a blink.
“Your buddy’s in quite a state, I’m sorry to say.” Jax’s oily face showed anything but sorrow as he stabbed his finger at me. “Our hospitality wore out after you tried to get smart with my associates.” Humor grew into full-blown glee as he continued. “I heard Yorkie got you back good, though. Put a real scare in you.”
Donovan leaned into my peripheral with a puzzled look.
“Yeah.” I muttered. “Neat trick.”
Jax beamed. “Innit, though?”
Another survey of the room found the three of us alone in it. What were the investigators waiting for?
A heavy breath left me before I spoke again. “Here’s the deal, Jax. Not to yuck your yum, but the Bloody Hex isn’t exactly what it used to be. Grimm’s checked out, Vinton’s playing it straight for once, and Avery’s been MIA for weeks. As for the newbies, you can keep them, for all I care. I want away from the whole thing.”
Donovan pitched forward, almost falling over himself in a play for my attention. He couldn’t protest with his lips telekinetically sealed, but his wide eyes spoke volumes. I hadn’t gone over this with him, hadn’t even prepared it for myself, but I was going all in on honesty lately. Telling the truth took less brainpower, and I didn’t have much to spare these days.
“I’m supposed to believe that?” Jax asked. “You’ll just give it up? Wasn’t it you who said people die for that shit?” He gestured to my tattooed hand. “You who said it was worth fighting over? Now, you’re just lying down?” He folded his arms across his chest and scoffed. “I was right about you all along. You’re all talk.”
His taunts in prison resurfaced, egging me into a fight I didn’t want. I swallowed my pride and kept my expression neutral. “I’m done with the Bloody Hex. So’s my brother, and I’d bet money Ripley feels the same. But we can’t leave the gang alive, and you can’t get in unless we’re dead, so let’s work together.”
The shapeshifter crept closer. “I’m listening.”
“You tried to take my hand before.” I flashed the Hex mark tattoo, and he purred at the sight of it. I pretended to marvel, as well, studying the inky black skull laced with thorn vines that nearly touched the first set of strings tattooed on my fingers.
“What say I let you?” I asked at last.
Jax swayed back, snorting. “I say that’s some real dumb shit.”
“I mean it,” I replied. “That’s proof enough for Grimm, don’t you think? And a small price for my freedom.”
Jax stared at me, incredulous. When I said nothing more, he turned to Donovan instead. “You grew up with this guy. Is he always this fucking nuts?” He eyed my brother, waiting for a response I couldn’t silence without raising suspicion.
The moment I released my hold on Donovan’s jaw, he rounded on me.
“Fitch, what are you doing?”
“Negotiating.” I hoped he didn’t miss the warning in my tone.
“Not on my behalf, you aren’t,” he retorted. “I didn’t agree to this.”
My lip curled. “Is it the one hand thing that’s hanging you up? They make some pretty sick prosthetics these days.”
“ You’re pretty sick.” Donovan shook his head. “Jesus. Are you serious?”
Had he forgotten this was a setup? Not to say I wouldn’t have agreed to the deal I was offering. The longer I considered it, the better it sounded. So good that I almost regretted involving the investigators in this at all.
Jax watched with a grin as Donovan and I volleyed the conversation back and forth. When we both fell silent, the shapeshifter put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle.
From the corner hallway, two newcomers emerged. Jette and York strode into the room, and Jax turned to greet them.
Now standing across from me, Donovan’s severe expression broke long enough for him to give me a wink. “The investigator said to keep him talking,” he hissed. “Did I do all right?”
I offered a weak nod then whispered back, “Very convincing.”
Jax’s voice rang out. “The great Marionette has an idea about how we can handle our disagreement without too much bloodshed.” He looked over his shoulder at me to quip, “Kind of a pussy move if you ask me.”
Jette sniggered while York pinned me with a leering glare.
Anytime now, guys, I thought, casting fervent glances around the room in the hopes of seeing movement in the shadows.
“Jette, my dear,” Jax said, and my already racing heart picked up tempo. “Can you find me a knife? Make it a big one.”