Page 10 of Looking Grimm (Marionette #4)

After insisting on curbside service, Ripley told me to park the Porsche a few blocks away and walk.

I was finishing off my second cigarette by the time I wandered up to the unmanned side entrance of the Elite Inn I couldn’t be the cause of any more trouble for Nash and his business.

I also couldn’t ignore him while he stared at me with those soft brown eyes or put aside the loneliness that had kept me up every night since I’d left him.

“Fuck off, Rip,” I muttered.

Ripley stepped back and bent in a dramatic bow. “I’ll leave you to it, then. ”

I waited until he disappeared through the door that allowed keycard access into the hotel to heave a sigh. I might have waited longer if Nash hadn’t stepped forward and slid his arms around me.

He pulled me in, and my body relaxed at his touch. My eyes fluttered closed as I laid my head on his chest.

“Hey, Trouble,” Nash cooed into my ear, prickling my skin with pleasant goosebumps.

A snuffle at the hollow of his throat flooded my nose with the herbal scent of his cologne. “Rip’s your wingman now?” I mumbled. “Not sure how I feel about you talking to other men.”

“About you?” Nash asked.

“At all.”

His chuckle rumbled against my cheek. “Jealous? That’s new.”

I exhaled again. Every breath ferried away more of the stress that had been burying me for days. “I missed you,” I said.

His grip tightened. It was the kind of viselike squeeze I craved, as though the right amount of pressure could somehow hold me together.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” When he kissed the top of my head, tears welled in my eyes.

I swore and pulled away from him, but he reached after me.

“Fitch? What’s wrong?”

Tugging up the hem of my shirt, I wiped it over my face. As I smoothed it slowly down, I got a good look at him. His beard was longer than usual and getting scraggly at the ends, and sleepless shadows circled his eyes. The wrinkles of concern lining his features seemed entrenched, far too comfortable on his face.

I remembered the calm-down concoction he’d prepared for himself the day I ran from the bar. It wasn’t like him to drink his own product, and I’d never known him to consume anything potentially mood-altering. He hadn’t ever needed it before.

Looking at the side of the hotel building, I spotted a raised flowerbed framed by a low brick wall. I gestured toward it.

“Can we sit? I’m fucking wiped.”

Nash nodded. “Sure.”

He took my hand and held it as we sat side by side on the garden ledge. I leaned against him, laying my head on his shoulder while he brushed his thumb across my knuckles.

“Ripley said you had a rough night,” he murmured.

I worried for a moment that my partner in crime had shared the details of our exploits, but Ripley was more secretive than me and likely less proud of what we’d accomplished in the past few days. So, I breathed a little easier and kept my answer succinct.

“We cleaned out the trunk.”

Nash hummed acknowledgment. “That’s good.”

Our joined hands rested on my thigh. I looked down at them, studying my fingers lined with tattoos like battle scars. They had been trophies, symbols of victory in a shitty, one-sided game. But I didn’t want to play anymore.

“Fitch, I want you to come home.” Nash’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

I might have guessed that was the crux of this because I wanted it, too. Sleeping balled up on the loveseat in Ripley’s hotel suite meant not sleeping at all. I’d grown accustomed to having a warm body sidled up next to mine and found that I enjoyed little more than being woken by nuzzling kisses on the back of my neck.

But that was all selfish, and dangerous, and…

“I can’t—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the investigator,” Nash continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain, but you didn’t have to leave. I want you with me.” He turned and took my other hand, holding both between us. His expression was sincere as he said, “You’re safe with me.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What, then?” he asked, and I wondered how he couldn’t know.

“You!” I exclaimed. “Your home. Your job. Your life…”

He looked ready to cut in again, but I barreled on.

“Pippa was right,” I said. “I made myself your problem, and I shouldn’t have.”

Nash’s brow furrowed in a scowl. “I wish you hadn’t heard that.”

I released one of his hands to cup my palm to his cheek. The scruff of his beard tickling my skin caused a smile to tease my lips, but it quickly vanished.

“The investigator wasn’t the end of it,” I told him. “There’s more coming. More danger, and I won’t put you through that. I can’t risk it because if I lose you, too…” The confession petered out, already more than I meant to say.

Nash slid his arm around my waist and drew me into a strong embrace. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” he said. “You, either, as long as I’m around. ”

“You can’t know that. It’s not safe—”

“If it’s not safe here, then we’ll go somewhere else.”

Aggravation made me bristle, and I shoved away from him to sit upright. “Where, Nash?” I swung an arm through the air around us. “We live in a fucking fishbowl. There’s nowhere to run.” And I was rapidly exhausting my options of places to hide.

His features were stony, determined. “Outside the city, then. There must be a way.”

I retreated farther, flushing with angry heat that drove me to stand. “Don’t even get me started on that. That’s all I wanted for Donnie, and I…”

Ripley’s words from the carwash resounded in my brain: “I gave up everything. But nothing changed.”

Except this time, everything had changed, and all for the worse.

“Nash, I can’t talk about this,” I said. “And you really shouldn’t be here.”

He stood, too, and took hold of my arms. “Please, come back with me. Let me take care of you.”

He tugged on me, but I jerked loose of his grip. “Because you feel guilty?”

Of all the things his sister had said about me, that one stung the most. Probably because it felt undeniably accurate.

“What?” His face washed pale in the moonlight.

I gestured to the hotel building and its unseen occupants. “Rip feels guilty. He told me as much. Do you?”

His cheeks puffed as he rushed to reply, “That’s not why—”

I shook my head. “Go home, Nash. And tell Pippa she can come back. I got the message.” Turning, I reached for my wallet and the hotel keycard tucked inside. I needed to make a clean break before my emotions got involved and made everything messy.

Again, Nash caught my elbow. This time, he stepped into me, and we stood almost chest to chest. His body was so warm and welcoming that it took all my resolve not to melt into him.

“Forget what Pippa said,” Nash replied. “This is between you and me. It’s our relationship, and she has no place in it.”

I ducked my head, desperate to avoid his gaze. “This isn’t a relationship,” I muttered.

“What if I want it to be?” He sounded so certain that it shook me.

Nash wasn’t my lover or my boyfriend, but he wanted to be. Why? And was it fair to agree to such a thing knowing that the Capitol and the Bloody Hex were currently competing for my head?

“You’re saying that now ?” I shoved him back.

His forehead scrunched down and made his eyes hard. “I wanted to say it weeks ago but, after everything with Donnie, it didn’t feel like the right time.”

“Still isn’t,” I said.

Behind me, the hotel door beckoned, promising another night of lonely, fitful rest. I turned away, reluctant but resigned.

“I’ll wait!” Nash called after me, then added in a lower voice, “If that’s what you need.”

It was more than I deserved, but I had to wonder, “For how long?”

Nash stepped in front of me and slid a hand around to rest in the small of my back .

“As long as it takes,” he said.

With his face only inches away, I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him. I pushed up into him, pressing my lips to his. He met me there, equally needy, perhaps even desperate. I wanted the feeling to last all night, to stay locked together and never come up for air.

Eventually, we broke apart, but Nash kept his hand low on my spine, a steady presence.

“You’re sure you won’t come with me?” he asked.

My mouth opened before I was ready to answer, and I floundered through saying, “When this is over—”

“When you’re ready,” he corrected.

Tears threatened again, and I stole a brief, parting kiss.

As I stepped back, his hand slid away. The separation was almost painful. I felt pulled apart—torn between the life I wanted and the one I was trapped in. I thought I could have a future with Grimm gone, but the hope of any happy ending was slowly slipping out of reach.

I returned to Ripley’s room and found him nursing a mug of tea while standing beside a window with the curtains tugged aside. By some stroke of shit luck, the flowerbed where Nash and I had sat then stood was well within view.

Maggie was buried in a pile of blankets and stuffed toys, sound asleep. At least she hadn’t waited up worrying.

I crossed my arms and glowered at Ripley, who sniffed the steam from his drink.

“Enjoy the show?” I asked.

He sipped from the cup, seeming to savor it the way I did a good hit of nicotine.

Swallowing, he asked, “Do you love him?”

The tip of his head toward the parking lot and the man I’d left there provided unnecessary clarification.

“I care about him,” I replied.

“He loves you .”

I’d barely walked in the door and wasn’t up for being asked to define or explain things I didn’t understand. I walked past Ripley and yanked the drapes closed.

“No, he doesn’t,” I replied. “People don’t love me, Rip. They just…”

People used me. To fight, to kill, to fuck… But things with Nash had never been like that.

Ripley watched me, doubtless waiting for me to finish what I’d started to say before my thoughts were lost in a mental clamor.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll avoid the big, scary L-word and phrase it differently. He wants you and all the bullshit and baggage that comes with you. So, let him have you. You’ll both be happier for it.”

“Nash doesn’t deserve that,” I replied. Not when my “bullshit and baggage” was a status as the Capitol’s most wanted, and the Bloody Hex was making a bid to pin me to the wall.

Ripley grunted and dumped the last of his tea in his mouth. “You’re a stubborn ass.”

“You just want me outta your room.” I wandered over and dropped onto the loveseat where Maggie had sat earlier, trying to ignore the bloody steak plate and takeout boxes left on the table.

Tugging off his hoodie, Ripley headed for the bathroom and called back as he passed, “The sooner the better!”

I kicked up on the couch and let my head loll against the cushioned backrest. The idea of love didn’t frighten me as much as it confused me. It was a nonsensical thought, as absurd as Nash’s promise to wait for me as long as it took. I had a sinking feeling that his patience would be rewarded with noncontact visitation in Thorngate. There, he could profess his feelings through a Plexiglas wall while heckling guards looked on.

That was assuming Maximus Lyle didn’t have me put me down like the dog I was. If that happened, the next time I saw Nash would be from the execution stage.

I sighed and shifted, struggling to find a comfortable position. By the time the shower turned on, I’d given up trying and stood to make my way to the barricaded adjoining door. Sliding the lamp and table aside, I flipped the lock and tiptoed into the room where our new neighbors were waiting for me.