“Nice to have met you.”
As Lash looked down, he saw there was something in the guy’s palm. A card.
Lash did the shake thing, took what he’d been given, and went back to his own Mercedes. As he got behind the wheel, he watched the AMG amble off down the lane, its tailpipe smoking in the cold.
He looked down at the card. It was a number.
“Whatchu got there, suh?” Mr. D asked.
“I think we might be in business.” He got out his cell phone and dialed, then put the car in gear and went in the opposite direction from Benloise’s crew.
Benloise picked up the call. “So much more comfortable to speak in a warm car, is it not?”
Lash laughed. “Yeah.”
“Here is what I shall offer you. A quarter of the product that I shipped monthly to the Reverend. If you are able to safely move it on the streets, then we shall look at increasing the trade. Are we in accord?”
It was such a pleasure dealing with a professional, Lash thought. “We are.”
After they discussed the money and the delivery side of things, they hung up.
“We’re good,” he said with satisfaction.
As all kinds of backslapping went on in the car, he allowed himself to grin like a motherfucker. The prospect of setting up labs was proving more difficult than he’d expected-although he was still moving forward on that, he needed a big-league, reliable supplier and this relationship with Benloise was the key to that. With the cash it was going to generate, he could recruit, acquire state-of-the-art weapons, buy more real estate, target the Brothers. As it stood now, he felt like the Lessening Society had been in neutral since he took over, but that was over, thanks to the old man with the accent.
Back in Caldwell proper, Lash dumped Mr. D and the other lessers off at that nasty-ass ranch and then proceeded across to the brownstone. As he parked in the garage, he was flushed from possibilities of the future, the buzz making him aware of how fucking bummed out he’d been. Money mattered. It was freedom to do what you wanted, buy what you needed.
It was power stacked in orderly piles and rubber-banded with authority.
It was what he required to be who he was.
As he came in through the kitchen, he took a moment to savor the improvements he’d already been able to make. No more empty counters and cabinets. There were espresso machines and Cuisinarts and dishes and glasses, none of which had been purchased from Target. There was also gourmet food in the refrigerator and fine wines in the cellar below and top-shelf booze at the bar.
He walked out into the dining room, which was still bare, and hit the stairs two at a time, loosening his clothes as he went, his cock getting stiffer with every step. Upstairs his princess was waiting for him. Waiting for him and ready. Bathed and oiled and perfumed by two of his slayers, prepared for his use like the sex slave she was.
Man, he was glad all lessers were impotent; otherwise there would have been a rash of castrations in the Society.
As he hit the first of the landings, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the scores of scratches that ran across his chest. They had each been made by his lover’s nails, and he smiled, ready to add to the collection. After about two weeks of having her tied down completely, he’d started releasing one of her hands and one of her feet. The more they fought the better.
God, she was a hell of female-
He froze as he got to the top of the stairs, the scent coming down the hall stopping him dead. Oh…God, the sweet saturation was so heavy, it was as if a hundred perfume bottles had been smashed open.
Lash raced for the door to the bedroom. If anything had happened to-
The carnage was stunning, black blood staining the new rug and the fresh wallpaper: The two lessers he’d left to guard his female were propped up on the floor across from the canopy bed, each with a knife in his right hand. Both had multiple, glistening gashes to their necks, having stabbed themselves over and over again until they lost so much blood, they went lax.
His eyes shot to the bed. The satin sheets were rumpled, and the four chains the symphath king had given him to subdue her were lying slack from their corners.
Lash wheeled on his men. Slayers didn’t die unless you got them in the chest with some stainless steel, so both were incapacitated, but still alive.
“What the fuck happened?”
Two mouths worked, but he couldn’t understand a thing-the bastards had no air supply to their voice boxes, thanks to the shit escaping out of all the holes they’d made in themselves.
Weak-minded fools-
Oh, hell no. Oh, no, she didn’t.
Lash went over to the messy sheets and found the collar of his old dead rottweiler. He’d put the thing on his princess’s neck to mark her as his, keeping it on her even when he took her vein during sex.
She’d slit it up the front instead of unbuckling the thing. She’d ruined it.
Lash tossed the collar on the bed, rebuttoned his shirt, and shoved the silk tails into his slacks. Over at the antique Sheraton bureau he’d bought three days ago, he took out another gun and a long knife to add to what he’d worn to meet Benloise.
There was only one place she would go.
And he was going up there and bringing his bitch back.
With George guiding the way, Wrath left his study at ten p.m. and hit the stairs with a confidence that surprised him. The thing was, he was starting to trust the dog and anticipate the signals that George transmitted through the harness handle: Each time they got to the head of the stairs, George would stop and allow Wrath to find the first step. And as they came to the bottom, the dog would pause again so that Wrath was aware they’d reached the foyer. And then there would be a wait until Wrath announced what direction they would go in.
It was…a very good system, actually.
As he and George descended, the Brothers gathered down below, checking their weapons and talking. In the midst of the group, V was smoking his Turkish tobacco and Butch was saying some Hail Marys under his breath and Rhage was unwrapping a Tootsie Pop. The two females were with them, and he recognized them by their scents. The nurse was nervous, but not hysterical, and Xhex was itching for a fight.
When Wrath stepped off onto the mosaic floor, he gripped the handle in his palm hard, the muscles in his forearm cranking tight. Shit, he and George were staying behind. And that just sucked.
Ironic, wasn’t it. Not so long ago, he’d been upset about leaving Tohr home like a dog. What a role reversal. The Brother was the one going out into the night…and he was the guy staying behind.
A sharp whistle from Tohr shut everyone up. “V and Butch, I want you with Xhex and Z on team one. Rhage, Phury, and I are on team two and will be backing up you four with the boys. According to the text I just got from Qhuinn, he and Blay and John have arrived up north and are in position about two miles from the entry to the colony. We’re ready to go-”
“What about me,” Ehlena said.
Tohr’s voice was gentle. “You’re going to wait with the boys in the Hummer-”
“The hell I am. You’re going to need a medic-”
“And Vishous is one. Which is why he’s going in first with the others.”
“Along with me. I can find him-he fed from-”
Wrath was about to jump in when Bella’s voice cut through the argument.
“Let her go in with the others.” There was a quick, breathless silence from everyone as Rehvenge’s sister spoke sharply. “I want her to go in.”
“Thank you,” Ehlena said in a small voice, like it had been decided.
“You’re his female,” Bella murmured. “Aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
“You were on his mind the last time I saw him. It was clear how he felt about you.” Bella’s voice grew even stronger. “She has to go. Even if you can find him, he’ll live only for her.”
Wrath, who’d never really been on board with that nurse joining the team, opened his mouth to can the idea… but then he thought back a year or two, remembering when he’d been shot in the stomach and Beth had been
