“He doesn’t deserve to be buried next to Mom. That’s fucking obscene and you know it.”
“It was paid for,” he snapped, throwing my anger back at me. “I’m not exactly made of money, okay? And you weren’t there. I had to handle everything on my own, and pretend to be the grieving son when I would have been fine tossing his evil ass in a burlap sack and dumping it in the trash. You weren’t there.”
His shoulders sagged as his fury drained away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t deserve—”
“Yes. I did. You’re not wrong.”
“Geez.” He kicked his toe against the curb. “Still brothers, huh? Peas in a pod.”
“Still brothers.”
“So, the stuff they said about you.” He hedged, slow, working his way to the question. “I mean, when you were in prison, the things they said you did. So you’re some kind of…”
“You can say it,” I told him.
Our eyes met. “Gangster?”
“That’s a word for it. Let me put it this way: remember back in the day, when we’d boost food from that 7-Eleven down the street? You’d distract the clerk while I loaded up the backpack?”
Teddy looked to the sky and let out a sound somewhere between an empty laugh and a sigh. He put his hands on his hips.
“Of course,” he said. “That was the only way we got any food at all, some nights.”
“Turns out I’ve got a talent for taking things that don’t belong to me. And I believe a person should play to their natural strengths.”
He laughed again, this time with some affection behind it. “Do I even want to know why you were in Mayor Seabrook’s office?”
“Believe it or not, doing my civic duty. Sometimes it takes a bad guy to catch a bad guy.”
“That I don’t believe.”
“Oh, it’s true,” I said. “Let’s just say I have access to avenues of information that the cops don’t.”
“No. Not that part. I don’t believe that you’re a bad guy.”
Sweet, innocent Teddy. I could have shown him where the literal bodies were buried. I could have led him to a river of blood, my arms washed elbows deep in it. After all that, he’d probably still say the same. It was nice to have someone who believed in your better nature, even when you knew they were wrong.
“So,” I said. “Security, huh?”
“Playing to my natural strengths, I guess. Ex-military and all that. It pays the bills, and it beats being stuck in an office all day.”
“I hear that.”
The conversation faded as we both worked toward the same question. He asked it first.
“So what now?”
“Now? Well, I’ve got to get back to work. I assume you’ve got to get back to work. And we shouldn’t be seen talking in public because officially you don’t know me—”
“But after?” He studied me, head tilted, pensive. He looked like a kid trying to find the confidence to ask a girl to prom. “Still brothers?”
“I’d like that,” I told him.
“Would you…want to come around sometime? Dinner or something? You’ve got a sister-in-law and a niece you haven’t met yet.”
I hadn’t been expecting the invitation. I figured we’d end this with a polite exchange of phone numbers before slipping out of each other’s lives again.
“Is that okay?” I asked him. “Teddy, you know what I do for a living.”
“Well, don’t tell them that. Just…make something up. You used to be good at that.”
“I’m still pretty good at it.”
He reached out and took hold of my arm.
“I want you in my life,” he said. “We can’t make up for lost time, but we can start fresh, maybe.”
We exchanged numbers. We went our separate ways. I cracked the car door to let the heat out and stood there and marveled at life for a little while. As I got behind the wheel, reality sawed through the wonder like a serrated knife.
I had a list of enemies as long as my arm, and any one of them would love to get their hands on my long-lost brother. They’d snatch him for leverage or just hurt him to hurt me. My recent promotion and induction into the courts of hell, where a stab in the back was how most people said hello, added a fresh layer of trouble to the mix. The best, smartest thing I could do—for Teddy and for myself—was to keep my brother as far away from me as humanly possible. Cut him off, change my phone number, disappear.
But I wasn’t going to.
I was only human, and a chance to reconnect with Teddy—after my father and the world had torn us apart—was a treasure I couldn’t forsake. So I’d find a way to make this work.
The undercarriage of the Elantra rattled again as I pulled out onto the street. I set the dashboard GPS for the rental place, and then I called Pixie.
“You found another Network safe house?” she said. “Already?”
“No, just wondering if my car’s popped up anywhere.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re calling me about?”
“I miss my car,” I said.
“So go buy another one.”
“It’s a painstakingly rebuilt 1970 Hemi Cuda,” I said. “It’s not a Honda Civic. You can’t just ‘buy another one.’”
“I’ve got feelers out, okay? I’m doing my best.”
“That’s all I ask—” I paused as the phone beeped. “Hold on, I’ve got another call coming in.”
I tapped the screen, and an unwelcome voice growled in my ear.
“You shouldn’t have made fun of me,” Grimm said.
“How did you get this number?”
“When a man is challenged to a fight, he stands up and answers.”
“I did answer,” I told him, “and my answer is ‘you’re ridiculous.’ That answer still stands, by the way.”
“I’m going to expose you for the craven weakling you really are.”
I sighed. “Look, what did you call yourself? Huffington Goofyman?”
“Hunter. MacGregor. Grimm.”
“That’s what I said. Bottom line is, I just don’t have time to deal with you right now. I’m supposed to be getting ready for a fight with a guy who is A, actually dangerous, and B, actually has a reason to want to kill me. It’s a lousy reason, but that’s more than you’ve got.”
“Too bad he’ll never get the chance,” Grimm replied. “Bang. You’re dead.”
I stepped on the gas and wove through the midmorning traffic. I took Grimm seriously enough to cast an eye toward the rooftops on either side of the street, watching for the telltale glint of a riflescope catching the sunlight. If he was good enough to get my number, he was good enough to track my movements. All the same, there were a dozen directions I could have left city hall from, and the possibilities exploded with every intersection I passed.
I shouldn’t have been nervous. And yet.
“I’m driving forty miles an hour,” I said, keeping my tone light even as my nerves trilled like warning bells. “You’d have to be one hell of a sniper to hit me through the windshield, assuming you even know what street I’m going to take and have time to set up a perch before I get there.”
Grimm chuckled. It was a long, slow, raspy sound, and entirely too confident for my liking.
“People always make that mistake,” he said.
“Which one?”
“Thinking the word ‘bang’ implies a bullet.”
The undercarriage of the sedan rattled again. Louder this time.
29.
Horns screamed as I spun the wheel hard. The Elantra lurched, swerving between lanes. I slammed against the seatbelt as my front wheel hit the curb, the car jumping, screeching to a stop halfway onto the sidewalk. Grimm’s laughter burst over the phone, giddy and mad, the sound like electric claws raking down my spine. I snapped the belt open, threw open the door, and jumped out with the engine still running.
The sidewalk behind me was clear. A few people were walking up from the other direction, curious now, and I flailed my hands as I broke into an all-out sprint. “Stay back!” I shouted. “Don’t come any—”