He picks it up and glares with a challenge in his eyes.
“I won’t let you do this,” he growls.
His eyes flare like he’s trying to talk me down from jumping off the top of the building. But no, I’m so done with this.
So ready to quit this shit show like yesterday.
Holden, Gramps, museums, cloak and dagger bad guys, everything that wants to prolong this misery until I lose it.
“Stop it, Holden. Let go.” I yank at the briefcase’s handle, pushing my small fingers under his.
“Just listen. You don’t have to roll over and allow Fairfax to show up. You can call Talbot right now and remind him who’s boss. If you want to meet up with him again, let me organize it. We’ll do itafterwe’ve handed it off.”
“It’s my inheritance. You don’t get to organize shit.” I tug again, but he doesn’t let it go.
I know how childish this is. But besides being a massive hurtful pain in the ass, now he’s disrespecting me too.
“This is my job,” he insists.
“And it’s my property, isn’t it?”
A spark leaps into his eyes. “Clee, goddamn.”
That ragged whisper does it.
No more.
“Holden—enough!” I lunge forward, grab it with both hands, andpull. “This ismylife.Mydecision. No one gets to tell me what to do.”
“And it’s my job to keep you and this goddamned treasure safe,” he snarls. His grip has weakened, but he doesn’t let go. He hangs on effortlessly with one hand as I pull with all my might.
Go ahead and laugh.
This would be tragically funny if it wasn’t so hilariously tragic.
Finally, I twist, just hard enough to break it free. Or maybe he just finally lets go because he’s afraid we’ll damage it.
I stumble and back up cautiously, cradling the heavy briefcase to my chest with both hands. I’m so exasperated I want to march over and throw it off the balcony.
He clears his throat and steps forward. I put my free hand up.
“No. Either you’ll come along and be my bodyguard and respect my decisions, or you’ll stay here,” I hiss. “Your decision. The only one you get to make, Holden Verity. Either way, I’m going.”
The volcanic gleam in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what he can do to stop me, but he doesn’t.
He could easily wrestle it away, tie me up with his belt, and deal with the egg himself. But to my relief, he just watches me stuff my feet in my shoes.
A muscle ticks in his throat as he straightens his tie.
I half expect him to stay behind.
To abandon me and leave me alone with my selfish, arrogant decisions.
After a second, he trails behind me, wearing an expression that makes me feel like I’m leading him into an angry sea.
24
BLIND GREED (HOLDEN)
