Page 11 of Capitol Matters (Marionette #2)

Sidestepping my brother, I ascended the stairs. The upper-level bedrooms lined a hall with wood paneled walls and a damask papered ceiling. Glittering sconces lit the way as I moved quickly toward the ornate door at the end of the corridor. It was painted black and outfitted with a gleaming brass knob and knocker.

Arriving before it, I paused to listen. Male and female voices mingled with rippling laughter. My stomach clenched as tightly as my hands, and I reached up to give the knocker a rap.

The sounds from inside paused, shushed as though the quiet would convince me to go away. No chance. Testing the knob found it locked, but that was hardly a problem.

A focused thought slipped through the keyhole, winding around the internal mechanism and twisting side-to-side. Most telekinetics were limited to line of sight, which would have made even this simple task impossible. My ability to take hold of unseen things like muscles and bones in living bodies was unusual and, as far as I knew, unprecedented.

Another giggle from Isha’s room almost wrecked my concentration. I raised the lock’s last tumbler, then twisted the knob. With a shove, the door opened inward, swinging so wide it hit the wall inside with a thud.

Before me, Isha’s private suite sprawled. The smell of incense flooded my nose as my eyes roamed the space. I was familiar with the Bombay furniture and gilded paintings hung on the walls, so I passed over those quickly. The king bed commanded my notice, lit by candles and curtained with sheers that draped from the overhead canopy. Sheets and pillows unsettled as the bed’s occupants scrambled, tugging up blankets for cover.

Isha emerged with her ebony locks mussed. Her eyes went from wide to narrow the moment she recognized me.

“Fitch!” she hissed. “This is entirely inappropriate. Leave this room right now or I will remove you from the premises myself.”

Grimm rose beside her, equally disheveled but lacking any sense of alarm. He met my gaze, and the fact that he wasn’t angry made me even more so.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” I walked the rest of the way into the room, coming up to the foot of the bed where I could almost feel the heat of Isha’s glare.

In contrast, Grimm blinked coolly and raked a hand through his shoulder length hair.

“Is it intentional?” I asked. “Or is your head so far up your ass that you can’t even see that the gang is falling apart?”

Isha stood from the bed, swathed in a satin sheet. The wad of fabric she clutched against her breasts appeared to be all that held the look together. Her cheeks puffed as she drew a deep breath, ready to rage at me, but Grimm spoke first.

“I take it you have grievances to air?”

So many. Starting with being assigned the Capitol job that surrounded me with people who hated me, destroyed my car, and had no use for me except political sabotage via mass murder. No, it began before that, when Grimm decided attending my trial as Jacoby Thatcher and discrediting me was the best way to secure my innocence. He unmade my entire identity overnight. Before that, he dangled gang membership like a carrot for Donovan to chase. Donovan, who sat downstairs this very minute, regretting his life. I wanted to gloat about it because I’d definitely warned him but, instead, I was pissed.

The finger I stabbed at Grimm was loaded with force that struck him center mass.

“You might be having a blast playing make-believe at the Capitol, but it’s hell down there,” I said. “Ripley and Avery just tried to kill each other for fun. I had to stall a fucking earthquake downtown last week, then got loaned out for community service cleanup. Donnie decided to go all in on pizza for the kidnappees, which sounds like torture for him and them. I’m out my damn car—” I stopped myself, clenching my jaw to halt the flow of words .

“It’s not working,” I concluded, only slightly more composed. “None of this is working.”

Isha stood by with her arms crossed to secure the bed sheet to her chest. She watched me while I stayed locked onto Grimm, who nodded along to my speech until it became his turn to respond.

Swinging his legs off the edge of the mattress, he stood, bare-assed, and retrieved his clothes from a pile on the floor.

As he dressed, he spoke in an obnoxiously even tone. “Growing pains, Mister Farrow, are natural and to be expected. Some of these complications you should have seen coming and prepared for.”

“Nobody saw you putting Avery in charge coming,” I retorted. “I guaran-fucking-tee it. Nobody respects him, and they shouldn’t. He’s nuts.”

Intoxicated as the conjurer had been, he could still whip up a dagger and knew where to put it to win a fight he should have lost. Not to mention his kill count doubled mine. The difference was he’d spread his victims out over a hundred years compared to my ten.

“But screw us, right?” I threw up my hands. “We should just follow along with your master plan because you’ve got everything figured out. Always a step ahead, huh?”

Fully clothed, Grimm squared himself with me. His emotions were masked by the stony front I could only assume was for Isha’s benefit. He certainly wouldn’t have been so controlled if this had been a private conversation.

“You say ‘us,’ but you’re not part of this anymore,” he said slowly. “You’ve been removed from Bloody Hex matters for your own good. These concerns aren’t yours.”

“Of course, they’re my concerns,” I snapped. “The gang is all I have. It’s all Donnie has, too, since you forced him into it.”

Grimm moved forward to close the gap to me. “I didn’t force that boy into anything. Not like you tried to force him out of it.” His voice carried a warning. The facade was slipping.

“Fitch.” Isha cleared her throat.

I glanced over in time to see her aim a pointed look at the door I’d left open.

“You need to go,” she said.

“Fine.” I turned toward the exit. “I was done, anyway.”

Before I could leave, Grimm crossed the room to drape his arm across Isha’s bare shoulders. He looked meaningfully at me.

“You know, we came here tonight to relax, and you seem pretty wound up. Perhaps you should take advantage of Miss Kapoor’s services?” He used his free hand to brush hair away from Isha’s face, then smiled.

The madam’s expression went stricken. She licked her lips, visibly searching for words and coming up speechless. She wouldn’t refuse him, though her “services” weren’t his to offer.

Behind them, the unmade bed might have beckoned, but instead it repulsed me. I shook my head. “No, I’m really done.”

With this place and all the people in it .

I left the room and intended to leave the building, but my journey down the hall was cut short by a woman standing in an open doorway. She wore black patent leather with fishnet stockings and a come-hither smile that stopped me in my tracks. The outfit wasn’t bad, but her balloon boobs and drugstore dye job pushed the look into absurdity.

“I know you,” she cooed. “Puppet boy.”

Not my type. Not usually. But I was here with no car and no interest in calling a taxi for the second time tonight.

The woman approached. One hand grazed my crotch while the other knotted in my hair. She pressed in and used every inch of the height provided by her stiletto heels to whisper in my ear. “I hear you like to be tied up.” Her breath warmed my cheek. “Tight.”

My cock stiffened at her touch.

I glanced back at Isha’s bedroom door. I missed that room. Missed being there with her. But I wasn’t about to make a meal of Grimm’s leftovers when there was fresh meat on the table.

Staying over at the Blooming Orchid came with the unexpected perk of seeing Isha’s face the next morning when she discovered me at the breakfast table. The staff habitually enjoyed lavish meals, and today was no exception. The eight-foot spread boasted French toast, poached eggs, and a mountain of crispy bacon .

I sat apart from the girls as they crowded in, sharing lively retellings of the previous night’s escapades. The reviews were hardly glowing, and hookers putting Hex members on blast was the best entertainment I could have hoped for any time of day.

“Tiny,” a blonde in pink bunny pajamas said between giggles. “This big.” She held up two fingers a couple inches apart. “I hope he got something out of it because I sure didn’t.”

Sympathetic groans circled the group.

I nibbled a strip of bacon, feigning disinterest as Isha meandered down the side of the dining table. A sheer robe was tied over her blue silk minidress, and I could have sworn she put a little more sway in her hips as she made her way toward me.

“Mine wanted me to tickle him,” a brunette in a black teddy chimed. “Just tickling. That was all. Until he pissed the bed.”

A chorus of disgust answered the confession, and I snorted into my orange juice.

Isha closed in, dragging over a chair to sit beside me. Her hand slid down my arm to settle on the ligature marks dug into my wrist. She brushed her thumb across them while eyeing similar indentions ringing my throat.

“Liv said you enjoyed yourself last night.” She smiled coyly. “I’m relieved. I was afraid your time in prison may have ruined you for those sorts of games.”

I pulled out of her grasp, cupping my hand to cover the side of my neck nearest her. “I know the difference between playtime and punishment.”

She took a piece of toast off my plate and bit off the corner. “They aren’t always mutually exclusive,” she murmured.

“And that’s not why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I know.” She sighed, returning the slice of bread to my plate. “But I also know you aren’t being entirely fair. I’m paid to serve my customers, Fitch. Customers like Grimm.”

I never claimed sole ownership of the whore madam’s affections, but I didn’t enjoy sharing them. Or coming second place to Grimm in matters of intimacy and honesty.

“I didn’t realize I needed to tip you out to be a decent person.” I kept my voice low so as not to attract the attention of the women gossiping nearby. “You could’ve warned me about Donnie’s tattoo. We talked about him all day. It was harder for you not to say something.”

Isha must have noticed the other ears in range, as well, because she stood, touched my arm, and waved for me to follow. “Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

Breakfast abandoned, we moved into the tattoo parlor. It was cool and dark with the lights off and the painted windows keeping daylight at bay. Isha led to one of the couches and sat, patting the cushion beside her.

I took the offered seat, and Isha leaned in, checking for other hallmarks of my previous night’s encounter. The smell of her perfume wafted over me, floral and fragrant.

“I have to keep business separate from my personal life,” she said. “It’s crucial.”

“So, is you fucking Grimm business or personal?” I shifted away and fixed her with a cold glare. “Is he just a customer? Am I?”

“Not recently,” she replied, almost bitter.

“What about the ‘games’ you thought I’d lost my taste for?” My eyes narrowed further still. “Business or personal?”

Liv’s knowledge of my preferences came directly from the source. Clearly, the girls here traded secrets, and I didn’t expect to be exempt. But it felt like another betrayal.

“Because, if anything, you use me,” I said, “so maybe I should get paid.”

Isha returned her hand to her lap. “You’ve made your point, but don’t miss mine. I am a professional, and I conduct myself accordingly. As a patron of my establishment, you need to show me respect. Not like last night. That was completely out of line.”

I shifted away from her, crossing my arms. “That wasn’t about you.”

“It felt like it was.”

Tension grew in the silence.

“Grimm tells me you’re doing dirty work for the Capitol,” Isha said at length.

So, they’d talked about me. I wondered if that discussion happened before or after I raided their love nest. Contract killings turned abductions for the government weren’t exactly pillow talk, but Grimm didn’t strike me as the type to whisper sweet nothings.

I let my head loll toward her. “That’s business,” I said. “Gotta keep it separate. You understand.”

Isha’s countenance darkened, and her red-stained lips pursed. “Don’t be an ass.” She sniffed. “I’m trying to help you.”

I slumped on the sofa, looking at everything but her while thinking of my breakfast going cold in the next room.

“Many of the men in this city frequent my establishment.” She tried again to gain my attention. “Powerful men whose names might turn up on a certain list you were given.”

For all the effort I’d put into destroying the evidence of Maximus’s assignment, I hadn’t considered my cover being blown this way. I didn’t want Isha’s help, but it felt unwise to dismiss it out of hand.

I stood and fished into my pocket for my wallet. The madam had made her expectations clear and had established boundaries I thought reserved for those with less history than we had. But if she wanted to define me as a “patron,” I would conduct myself accordingly.

“Thanks for the tip. Here’s one for you.” I tossed a few bills to flutter into her lap. “Call me if one of those ‘powerful men’ shows up.”

She rose, spilling the money on the floor, and didn’t try to stop me from letting myself out the front door.

My dramatic exit had a fatal flaw in that my car was miles away in the Capitol’s parking garage, and the disaster cleanup crew was hard at work down the road. I couldn’t drive away and didn’t want to parade my rumpled clothes and bedhead past the construction crew. They had enough shit to say about me without witnessing my walk of shame.

So, I sat on the curb, called a cab, and waited.