if his tone was all I’ve-got-the-biggest-balls-of-them-all? Hey, cool, I get that shit. But that wasn’t my read.”
“He’s tattling.” Vishous stabbed out his hand-rolled in an ashtray. “That’s what it sounded like to me— although I’m not willing to bet my big balls on it.”
Now that John had his inner pit recaged and was able to think properly, he was inclined to agree with the Brother. Lash was a self-serving shit, and about as trustworthy as a rattlesnake, but the thing was, when you couldn’t rely on morality, you could absolutely bank on narcissism: It made the bastard utterly predictable.
John was sure of this—to the point where he felt like he’d been through it all before.
“Is it possible he’s been dethroned,” Wrath murmured. “Daddy-o maybe decide that the son was not so amusing after all? Or did the evil’s shiny, pretty new toy break—is there some shit in Lash’s bizarre biology that’s just coming out now? I want us to go in assuming it’s an ambush... ”
There was broad consensus in the room for the plan, as well as some cheap shots involving Lash’s ass and various kinds of large-bore instruments of impact: size- fourteen boots being the most likely to come to pass, but hardly the most creative.
For example, John seriously doubted Rhage could in fact park his GTO in the guy’s sun-don’t-shine. Or would want to.
Man... what a turn of events. And yet it wasn’t really surprising—if what they were guessing had actually happened. The Omega was known to go through
The Brothers could clean house.
Jesus Christ, John thought. Destiny could make for strange bedfellows.
Xhex was on a low boil as she stood next to John in a study that, but for the desk and throne, could have been mistaken for a French female’s parlor.
The sound of Lash’s voice coming from that phone made her feel like her stomach had been scrubbed down with ammonia, the burning, churning routine doing a nasty on that poor, well-intended turkey sandwich she’d just had.
And Wrath’s assumption that John was going to defend her honor didn’t calm things down in there.
“So we infiltrate,” the Blind King was saying. “At nightfall, all of you go out 149 and—”
“I’ll go now,” she said loud and clear. “Give me a pair of guns and a knife and I’ll go check it out right now.”
Okaaaaaay. Short of pulling the pin on a hand grenade and chucking it into the center of the room, she couldn’t have commanded more attention.
As John’s emotional grid went dark with oh-no-you-don’t, she started the countdown before the explosion hit.
Three... two... one...
“That’s a kind offer,” the king said as he slid into full cajole-the-female mode. “But I think it’s best—”
“You can’t stop me.” She dropped her arms to her sides—and then reminded herself that she wasn’t about to physically attack the guy. Really. She wasn’t.
The king’s smile was about as warm as dry ice. “I’m sovereign here. Which means if I tell you to hang tight, you’re going to goddamn well do that.”
“And I’m a
Wrath laughed hard. “Rehv? You want to weigh in on this as king of her kind?”
From across the room, her old boss and dear friend, the fucker, stared at her with amethyst eyes that knew way too much.
Rehvenge’s jaw clenched so hard she was surprised that when he finally opened his mouth, he didn’t spit out his teeth in pieces. “She can go do what she wants. You can’t save someone if they don’t want the fucking lifeboat.”
The male’s anger sucked most of the air out of the room, but she was so focused she didn’t need her lungs to work properly anyway.
Obsession was as good as oxygen. And anything that had to do with Lash was fuel to her fire.
“I need weapons,” she said to the group. “And leathers. A phone for communication.”
Wrath growled low and deep. Like he was going to try and lock her down in spite of Rehv’s pass.
Walking forward, she planted her palms on the king’s desk and leaned in. “Lose me or run the risk of losing them. What’s your answer there, Your Highness.”
Wrath rose to his feet, and for a moment she got a clear sense that although he was on the throne, he was still lethal as hell. “Watch. Your. Tone. In my fucking house.”
Xhex inhaled deeply and calmed herself down. “I apologize. But you’ve got to see my point.”
As the silence expanded, she could feel John looming—and knew that even if she could break through the king’s roadblock, she was still going to have a hell of a time getting around the male by the door. But her departure was not open for discussion from anyone.
Wrath cursed low and long. “Fine. Go. I won’t be responsible if you get yourself killed.”
“Your Highness, you never were responsible. No one but me is—and no crown on your head or anybody else’s is going to change that.”
Wrath looked in V’s direction and all but snarled, “I want this female covered with weapons.”
“No problem. I’ll hook her up right.”
As she went to follow Vishous out, she stopped in front of John and wished she had a different hand to play —especially as he took her biceps in a hard grip. But the fact was, an opportunity was out there and she had until sundown to take advantage of it: If there were any clues to where Lash was, she’d better use them to get to him if she wanted a clear shot at the bastard. Come nightfall? John and the Brotherhood were going to get unleashed on the situation—and they weren’t going to hesitate to kill their target.
Yes, Lash had to pay for what he’d done to her, but she needed to be the one to collect on that debt: She was batting a thousand when it came to burying those who had wronged her, the living, breathing “bitch” in that jolly little saying about payback.
Quietly, so no one else heard, she said, “I’m not someone you need to protect, and you know
As he paled, she prayed she wasn’t going to have to get forceful.
But she didn’t. He released his grip on her.
Heading out the door of the study, she marched past V and barked over her shoulder, “Time’s wasting, Vishous. I need some steel.”
FORTY-EIGHT
As Xhex took off with V, John’s first thought was to go downstairs, put himself in front of
