Hours later, as Marissa sat at her desk at Safe Place, she answered her cell phone and couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “It’s you again.”
Butch’s Boston-accented voice was full of gravel. As usual. “When are you coming home?”
She looked at her watch and thought, Where had the night gone? Then again, it was always this way at work. She came in as soon as the sun was safely below the horizon, and before she knew it, the light was threatening in the east, and driving her back to the compound.
Into the arms of her male.
Hardly a chore, that was.
“About forty-five minutes?”
“You could come now.…”
The way he drawled those words suggested an altogether different meaning to that verb than “return home.” “Butch—”
“I didn’t make it out of bed tonight.”
She bit her lip, picturing him naked in the sheets that had been messy when she left. “No?”
“Mmm, no.” He drew out the syllables—at least until his breath caught. “I’ve been thinking about you. …”
His voice was so deep, so raw, that she knew exactly what he was doing to himself, and for a moment she closed her eyes and indulged in some seriously beautiful mental pictures.
“Marissa… come home.…”
Snapping herself together, she pulled out of the spell he knew damn well he was weaving around her. “I can’t leave quite now. But I’ll start getting ready to check out—how about that?”
“Perfect.” She could hear the grin on his face. “I’ll be here waiting for you—and listen, all kidding aside, take as long as you need. Just come back here first before you go to Last Meal? I want to give you an hors d’oeuvre you won’t forget.”
“You’re pretty unforgettable already.”
“That’s my girlie. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
As she ended the call, that big, fat, happy smile stayed on her face. Her mate was a traditional kind of male, “old-school,” as he called himself, with all the biases that came with that mental set: Females should never pay for anything, open a door, pump gas into their cars, step through a mud puddle, carry something larger than what could fit in a sandwich bag… you name it. But he never got in the way of her job. Ever. That was the one area of her life where she called the shots, and he never complained about her hours, her workload, or her stress level.
Which was just one of the many reasons she adored the Brother. The displaced females and children who stayed at Safe Place were a kind of family to her, one that she was the head of: She was in charge of the facility, the staff, the programs, the resources, and, most important, everything and everybody who was under its roof. And she loved her job. When Wrath had given her the charter to run the charity, she had nearly balked, but she was so glad she had fought through the fear to find her professional purpose.
“Marissa?”
Glancing up, she found one of the newer counselors standing in her office’s doorway. “Hi, there. How was group tonight?”
“Really good. I’ll be filing my report in about an hour—right after we finish making cookies down in the kitchen. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but there’s a gentlemale here with a delivery?”
“Really?” She frowned at the calendar on the wall. “We don’t have anything scheduled.”
“I know, so I haven’t unlocked the door. He said you’d know him, but he didn’t give his name. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t call the Brotherhood?”
“What does he look like?”
The female reached a hand up over her head. “Very tall. Big. He’s got dark hair with a white stripe in front?”
Marissa jumped up so fast her chair let out a squeak on the floor. “Tohrment? He’s alive?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ll handle this. It’s okay—you head back to the kitchen.”
Marissa shot out of her office and went down the front set of stairs. Pausing by the main entrance, she checked the security monitor that V had installed, and then immediately yanked open the door.
She threw herself at the Brother without thinking. “Oh, God, where have you been! You were lost for nights!”
“Not really.” He returned her embrace gently. “I was just taking care of some business. But it’s all good.”
She stepped back, but held on to both his thick biceps. “Are you okay?”
Everyone at the mansion knew that Autumn had gone through her needing, and she could imagine how hard that had been on him. And she’d hoped, as they all had, that the growing relationship between the Brother and the quiet, fallen aristocrat would heal him. Instead, he’d disappeared after she’d come out of her fertile time, and Autumn had moved out of the house.
Not a happy outcome, obviously.
“Listen, I know you take donations, right?” he said.
Respecting the fact that he hadn’t answered her question, she stopped probing. “Oh, we absolutely do. We’ll take anything—we’re experts at adaptive reuse around here.”
“Good, because I have some things I’d like to give the females, maybe? I’m not sure you can use any of it, but…”
He turned and led the way over to the Brotherhood’s van, which was parked at the head of the driveway. Fritz was in the passenger seat, and the old butler hopped out as she approached.
For once, he did not have a cheery smile on his face. He did bow deeply, however. “Madam, how fare thee?”
“Oh, very well, Fritz, thank you.”
She fell silent as Tohr slid the side panel back—
One look inside and she stopped breathing.
Illuminated by the van’s overhead light were neat piles of what appeared to be clothes in laundry baskets, cardboard boxes, open duffels. There were also skirts and blouses and dresses still on their hangers, draped with care on the floorboards.
Marissa looked at Tohr.
The Brother was silent and staring at the ground—and clearly not about to make eye contact. “Like I said, I’m not sure you can use any of it.”
She leaned in and fingered one of the dresses.
The last time she had seen it, it had been on Wellsie.
These were his
In a voice that cracked, she whispered, “Are you sure you want to give this away?”
“Yeah. Throwing it all out just seems like such a waste, and she wouldn’t approve of that. Wellsie would want them to be used by others—that would be important to her. She hated waste. But, yeah, I don’t know about the whole female-size thing, though.”
“This is very generous of you.” She studied the male’s face, realizing it was the first time since he’d come back after the killing that she’d heard him say the name. “We will use all of it.”
He nodded, his eyes still avoiding hers. “I included unopened toiletries, too? Like shampoo and conditioner, her moisturizer, that Clinique soap she liked? Wellsie was really fussy about that kind of stuff—she tended to find something she liked and stick to it—she was also big into backups, so there was a lot when I cleaned out our bathroom. Oh, and I also have some of her kitchen things—those copper pans she preferred, and her knives? I can take that to a human Goodwill if you—”
“We’ll take anything you have.”
“Here’s the cooking stuff.” Tohrment went around and opened the back to show her. “And I know you don’t allow males inside, but maybe I could put it all in the garage?”
“Yes, yes, please. Let me go and get some extra hands to help us—”
