Page 91 of The Tower

“Out,” Grimm says, his voice full of cold, contained fury.

Her brows rise. “Kicking me out of my own home?”

“It’s not your home. Not anymore. And I assure you that if you don’t leave, you’ll regret it.” He tilts his head, his eyes locked on her. “Are we understanding each other?”

I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head, then she nods. “Of course, darling. I’d rather have room service and access to a spa, anyway. I just popped by so I could meet your new little toy.”

She turns her attention fully to me. “You’re such a sheltered little creature, so in case you didn’t read the subtext, our dear Liam is saying that he has information on me that I would prefer not be disseminated throughout town. I leave, and he keeps my secrets tucked away. I stay, and he makes sure that things I would prefer to remain private go public. I believe the colloquial term is blackmail. And he’s so very, very good at it.”

“I’m familiar with the term,” I say, then flash my most camera-ready smile. “I’ve only known you for a few minutes, but it’s easy to believe he has a treasure trove of information you’d rather keep hidden.”

Her eyes widen, and she turns to Liam. “Well, look at that. Victor’s little doll has a backbone. Isn’t that intriguing?”

She returns her attention to me. “You don’t like me, and that’s just fine. But you should listen to me. Liam Grimm trades in information. Secrets he can use as currency. That, my innocent new friend, is something you should think about. Because whatever secrets you have, Miss Reed, the odds are good he already knows them.”

“Thank you for the warning,” I say in my most polished and polite voice. “But just so we’re clear, Ms. Lane, while I admire your taste in sweaters, you and I aren’t friends.” I offer her an overly-friendly smile that matches the one she’s been flashing. “I’ll leave you two to wrap up,” I add, then turn my back on her, my heart pounding so hard she can probably hear it as I stride down the hall to the yellow room.

Only a few moments pass before there’s a light tap at the door. I stop pacing, frozen in place until Liam says, “Can we come in? Maya wants to grab a few of her things.”

I’m tempted to tell him that I’ll just dump all her stuff out the window, and she can grab it off the street. But since that’s probably not the best plan, I open the door, trying hard not to glare as she heads to the closet. She pulls a small suitcase from the back, opens it, then tosses in a few garments from the closet and the dresser. The Neruda book she leaves behind. A little reminder for me as to whom he gave the erotic poetry.

“You’ve rearranged my things,” she says, looking over her shoulder at Grimm.

“I cleared some space for Sasha.”

Her brows rise. “How considerate.” She turns to me, her smile razor-sharp. “He never cleared space for me.”

“Well,” I say, “perhaps that’s because you had a dresser.”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and I catch the hint of a smile tugging at Grimm’s mouth. Maya, I think, is used to getting the last word.

“He’s going to find you,” she says. “Victor’s already hired private investigators to work alongside the police. It’s only a matter of time before he finds this place.”

“How do you know who he’s hired?” I ask.

“Darling, my business is information, and I’m good at my job.” She shoots a sideways look at Grimm. “I learned from the best.” She flashes a wide smile, as if we’ve just had a lovely afternoon tea.

“I’ll be off now,” she says, then turns to me. “He’s one hell of a good fuck, but don’t ever trust him. Remember, he’s both a bastard and a Grimm.”

Thirty

Antihero

“I really don’t like your girlfriend.”

Liam turned away from the coffee maker to face Sasha. She stood in the kitchen doorway, bare feet, leggings clinging to those endless legs, an oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. Her fabulous hair hanging loose around her face. His chest tightened just looking at her. And why not? She was temptation incarnate—and he was a man rapidly running out of reasons not to give in.

“You’re not the only one,” he said. “At the moment, I’m not liking her much myself. And for the record, she’s not my girlfriend.”

The trouble with Maya, of course, was that she gathered information like currency. And she had a predator’s instincts — holding that currency tight until just the right moment when its value was assured.

And while he didn’t know of any specific secrets of his she might be privy to, he was certain she had some tucked away in her arsenal. She was too good for there not to be.

He should know. He’d trained her.

Hopefully, out of respect for what they’d once had—and for the retribution he could so easily dole out—she wouldn’t toss any of that currency Sasha’s way. There were secrets he ought to tell her, yes. But he needed to be the one to open the door.

“Are we still going to Alex’s party?”