The Wolf, page 25
“Brace yourself for the head of the guards.” Apex went over to check out the bald guy. “They’ve been looking for their opening all along, and they’re going to see this corpse as a challenge, not a done deal. And do you really want to run this place?”
“We’ll deal with that as it comes.” Luke glanced to the closed door. “In the meantime, we make this death really fucking obvious. We hang the body up outside on the wall. It’s a coup. We’re in control now.”
Apex shook his head. “It won’t last. The guards are going to attack.”
“It doesn’t have to last. All I need is nightfall.”
While they talked, Rio did some walking around herself, the contents of the large space finally registering properly. Things were set up as a military seat of command, the bed and an old forties wardrobe the only civilian furniture, the rest of it collections of rifles and guns, what she knew were explosives—and then other supplies including food, water, and camping equipment, like the man had been prepared to get gone at a moment’s notice.
Coming up to a rudimentary conference table, she tried to look casual as she checked out all kinds of documents with columns on them. Everything was handwritten—which made sense as there was no computer or electronics around that she could see—and the data was organized by dates, weights, and dollars. Wait, there was also a list of names and times.
She needed to copy this all somehow, even though that was crazy.
And where’s the money, she wondered.
With this sort of scale, there was going to be a crap ton of cash somewhere on the premises, and that presented both a security and a storage challenge.
Just before she turned away, she saw the cell phone. It was a newish one, without a protective case, nothing but a flat plane of glass you could access the world with. Glancing across at Luke and Apex, she put her hand out and scooped the slippery unit into her palm.
It didn’t fit in her side pocket. Too big.
So she turned her back to the pair of them and put it down the front of her pants, inside her underwear.
When she pivoted around again, Apex had the dead guy up off the floor, the knife that had been in that hand falling loose and bouncing in a clatter.
“I’ll take care of this,” he said. “And find Mayhem.”
With an utter lack of bother, like he was doing nothing more than moving a sack of potatoes around, he went over to a keypad, entered a series of numbers in a pattern, and opened the way out.
And then she and Luke were alone.
Well, as long as you didn’t count the two dead guys on the floor. But really, they weren’t going to interrupt much, were they.
“I need to put both of them out there, too,” Luke said in an apologetic tone.
As if they were a pair of houseguests who had overstayed their welcome.
“I can help.” She glanced over at him. “We’ll do it together.”
* * *
“Are you okay?”
As Lucan asked the question, his eyes were making like they were tied to a brain that had any kind of medical training, going up and down Rio’s body, searching for injury. More injury, that was. But she seemed all right. Her color was good and he could scent no blood other than the Executioner’s.
Goddamn, the woman was like a cat with nine lives.
“Yeah, I’m all right.” She continued her walk around, stopping over by the back door that led out into the parking area. “There’s a keypad here. I’m taking that means it’s got a lock on it.”
“Yeah, everything’s secured—” When she went to pull at the handle anyway, he put his hands forward. “Wait! Stop!”
She froze. “What?”
“Don’t open that.”
“Oh, you think it’s alarmed?”
No, he didn’t want to take any risk that it would let in a stream of daylight—because unless there was a nuclear-winter-worthy cloud cover in the sky, he’d end up a flaming ball of vampire.
“That’s right,” he lied. “We have to be careful. We don’t want more company.”
Rio dropped her hand and nodded. “You’re right.” She glanced back at him. “I don’t know that I’m thinking right.”
“Jesus, I wonder why.”
He went over to her and held his arms out. The fact that she came up right against him was a relief.
“How did you do that?” he said as he looked at the bloodstains on the floor.
“Shoot the guy?” She shuddered, her strong body quaking. “I was just lucky. He underestimated me, and so did his guard. I wasn’t searched. I had the gun. I used it. If they’d stripped me, I would have been in big trouble.”
Stripped. As in weapons. As in… clothes.
In a surge of aggression, Lucan became furious enough to want to go out to the wall and kill the Executioner all over again.
“I’m going to get you back to Caldwell,” he told her as he closed his eyes. “There are vehicles here, and I’ll get a key, and…”
As she pushed herself away from him, he cleared his throat and prayed she wasn’t going to argue with him. “What.”
“I can’t leave yet.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the guards Apex had taken care of. “I need to help that patient down in the clinic.”
“That’s not your problem.”
“If not mine, whose? They don’t know how to give him pain relief safely, they need me to help. I can get him—”
“Do you not remember what just happened here?” He pointed to that bloodstain by the bed. “How many near misses do you need before you stop rolling the dice with your life?”
She just shook her head. “I’m not leaving here until I help him. So you need to get me back in that room with the drugs—”
“Oh, come on—”
There was a series of beeps on the far side of the door, and Lucan put himself between Rio and whatever was coming in—
Apex entered with Mayhem tight on his heels. The latter clapped his hands and rubbed them together.
“Nice work, Lucan! How the hell did you get a clean shot at the Executioner?”
As Rio’s eyes flared, Lucan muttered, “I didn’t.”
“Executioner?” she said.
Mayhem looked at her. Looked at Lucan. “Exhibitioner was what I meant. That motherfucker—’scuse my French—used to go around flashing people all the time. I mean, if I never see his pollywog and two lily pads again, it will be too soon. Phew. Thank God you shot him.”
This was followed by a fist pump offer directed at Rio.
After which everybody just blinked at the guy.
“What?” Mayhem asked as he lowered his arm.
Like he was totally surprised that no one at the BBQ wanted to try his four-day-old, fermented homemade slaw.
“So glad you’re here,” Lucan said dryly. Then he turned back to Rio. “Listen, you’re going to forget about Kane. You’re leaving these quarters—”
“Don’t you dare too-dangerous me.” Rio glared at him. “I’ve earned the right to be taken seriously instead of coddled like a civilian—and the proof was right there at your feet until that body was taken out of here like a bag of sand.”
As she jabbed a finger at where the remains had been, Lucan wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. Instead, he tried to rein himself in. “I know you want to take care of Kane, but he’s fine—”
“Is that his name? Well, Kane is dying by inches, and he’s in constant pain. Do you want to go through that? Or would you rather be spared some of the suffering by those around you who are able. What would you want, if it were you.”
From over by the door, there was a soft curse, and Apex walked off sharply.
Rio continued to speak stridently. “That poor man’s dying is not something you can stop, but his agony is. So someone is going to help me get some heroin to test and then we’re going to take care of him.” She glanced around at all of them, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not asking for permission, gentlemen. I’m looking for partners.”
Mayhem spoke up at that. Of course he did. “As in crime? Partners in crime? Because we are sooooo good at that. I mean, we gotchu on the felony thing. Totally.”
As Lucan pictured himself slapping the guy into silence, Mayhem shrugged. “What I say wrong now?”
Sweet Jesus, was all Lucan could think.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
No,” Vishous said. “The Jackal’s not going to be involved in this search for the prison camp. Period, end of.”
As he laid down the law, everyone in the King’s study looked over at him. Including George, who you’d think would have been stone cold sleeping as he lay under his master’s great carved desk, by the clawed feet of the great carved throne.
But nope. The golden retriever was alert and judging him, too, evidently.
Which just meant the dog was as nuts as the rest of them.
“The guy’s not a trained fighter,” V pointed out from his frilly silk chair. “And he’s emotionally involved. That’s a recipe for disaster if you’re talking about being out in the field. Why are we bringing a liability into a situation that’s already unstable?”
As Rhage and Butch stared at him like they were debating who had to answer the rhetorical, V looked around at all the French blue—and pictured the room redecorated with blood-red drapes and black walls. Maybe a rack in the corner. A display of whips and chains just to set the mood right.
You know, instead of Marie Antoinette, more like Metallica meets dungeons, no dragons.
No offense, Rhage, V thought as he took out a hand-rolled.
Across the way, the great Blind King leaned into his desktop, Wrath’s heavy upper body flexing, the black muscle shirt he always wore stretching to accommodate the shift in bulk as he plugged his elbows into the blotter. The tattoos of his lineage, which ran up the insides of his forearms, flashed their design, particularly as he church-steepled his fingers.
“He knows how the prison camp runs, though.” The King’s wraparound sunglasses made the rounds among the troika, connecting the dots between Rhage and Butch on the sofas and V on his satellite bergère, even though the male couldn’t see. “That’s helpful intel. He knows the people in there, the power structure, the way it functions.”
“But that was before.” V recrossed his legs and sank further into the down-stuffed cushion under his ass. “At the new site? Who knows what it’s like. And if we find it—”
“When,” Wrath cut in.
“—I don’t want to go into a raid worried about someone getting popped because they’re having a moment with their long-lost buddies. We’ve got the full Brotherhood, the Band of Bastards, and the other fighters to coordinate. That’s a lot of moving, stabbing, shooting parts—and we’re all trained for this shit. I mean, Christ.”
Over by the crackling fire, Rhage cocked an eyebrow. Then reached into the pocket of his SUNY Caldwell sweatshirt and pulled out a bag of M&M’s.
Fuck off, V mouthed as the brother jogged the shit.
“It’s the first rule of combat,” V continued. “Don’t bring civilians into a fight. You’ll just end up saving them instead of actually getting the job done.”
Butch, who was dressed in one of his slick Tom Ford suits, put his dagger hand up. “I think the Jackal’s got a helluva lot of heart, and I’m not sure why locking him out is a thing. We’re just looking for the place. When we find it, he can dematerialize to safety.”
“You think he’s going to do that?” V couldn’t believe he had to argue the obvious. “You really think that guy with ‘a helluva lot of heart’ is not going to try to save his little friends the second he gets the coordinates?”
On that note, V started patting around for his lighter so his nicotine delivery system could get its groove on. When he couldn’t find the damned thing, he cursed himself.
How was it possible that he’d left his Bic behind? Oh, right. Up until about five minutes ago, he’d been so relaxed and loose, he hadn’t assumed he’d be smoking anything. Then this bright idea had been floated out at what was supposed to have been a brief, nothing-new-on-the-prison-camp-but-we’re-going-back-out-on-the-streets meeting.
No wonder yoga had to be done three or four times a week to work for most people. Calm had a shelf life only as long as your next crisis.
“I think the Jackal’s earned the right to choose.” Butch shrugged, those hazel eyes focusing on the middle ground in front of his face, as if he were gathering his thoughts. “Like Rhage reported, the poor sonofabitch didn’t want to leave the other prisoners behind and hasn’t gotten over it. If that’s the crucible he wants to fall on, who are we to stop him? It matters how you leave things—and who you leave behind.”
So V’s roommate was thinking about his partner again.
Great.
V started patting pockets on his chest that he didn’t have.
On the far side of the coffee table, Hollywood jostled the M&M’s bag again, a soft rustling rising up from the candy.
Fuck off, V mouthed.
Why? Rhage lip-sync’d back. You know you’ll feel better—
“I don’t feel bad now!”
“What?” Wrath demanded.
V burst to his feet, and went over to try to be casual by the marble fireplace. “Nothing. I’m fine—I’m perfect.” He glared at Rhage. “Look, the Jackal has a mate now. A son, too, from what I’ve heard. He’s got a shot at living his life. He needs to count his fucking blessings and sit on the sidelines, true? This isn’t his business.”
Over at the desk, Wrath shook his head. “I think maybe you’re a little off today, V. Are you hungry or something?”
“Maybe too sober?” Rhage added helpfully.
“I’m fucking fantastic. You want me to drop and give you ten to prove it?”
One of Wrath’s black brows lifted over his wraparounds. “You don’t usually worry about other people’s family lives. Especially ones you don’t know.”
“Fine, a hundred. We’ll do a hundred. Just to prove I’m great.”
V dropped down to the antique carpet, punched his palms into the delicate, swirly rug, and assumed a plank position. Then he pumped it out.
“One, two, three—”
“It’s the Jackal’s choice,” Butch said over the counting. “That’s my point. If it were me, I’d be eaten alive by the fact that I didn’t get others out.”
“—eleven, twelve—”
“Is he really doing push-ups,” Wrath muttered. “Jesus, V, give it a rest.”
“—eighteen, nineteen, twenty—”
“No one is paying attention to your pneumatic display.” The King cursed. “Can one of you get him back on track? And I’m going to let the Jackal—”
V upped the ante on his volume. “—twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty—”
“—MAKE HIS OWN DECISION.” Wrath spoke up loudly. “If the motherfucker wants to be involved in finding the place, and then go in with you when you do, it’s up to him. But you bunch of maladjusted meatheads have to let him know the score. He gets left behind if things go tits up, and his life will not be prioritized above any of yours. If he’s fine with that playing field, I’m not going to get in his way.”
“That’s fair,” Butch hollered.
“Good,” Rhage barked over the counting. “Glad we got that settled.”
“—thirty-one, thirty-two—”
“Will you stop him,” Wrath ordered, “before I throw a dagger at him.”
From out of the corner of his eye, V notice Rhage bursting up—which kind of made sense. Wrath was capable of a lot of things, and could handle himself in a fight even without his eyesight—but you didn’t necessarily want to be in range of him pitching a blade across a room.
“—thirty-three, thirty-four—OW!”
A tremendous weight landed on V’s back, like someone had dropped a car on his spine from three stories up. And as his elbows gave out under Rhage’s cop-a-squat, the rug rose up to slap him in the piehole.
“Get off me,” V growled.
The bag of M&M’s appeared next to his eyeballs.
With a roar, he snatched the candy and pitched Rhage off, the brother flying backwards across the room, antiques no doubt cringing everywhere.
Except Hollywood somehow managed to flop into a lie-down on the sofa he’d started out in.
“Nailed it,” he said with a wink as he put his hands behind his head and relaxed like the stretch-out totally worked for him. “And I’m just taking a page from your armchair example, my brother.”
V headed for the door with the M&M’s, ripping open the bag and pouring some in his mouth to chew—because it was either that or he was going to be up-close-and-personal with Rhage’s shit-eating grin in a way that would cause a lot of swelling in the guy’s pretty features.
“I think you’re all making the wrong call,” V said around the melted candy in his mouth. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a lighter.”
“Are you eating chocolate?” Wrath asked as V yanked open the way out.
“No, I’m not.”
As he poured more M&M’s down his gullet, he caught sight of Rhage glancing over at Butch, and making little circles next to his head.
“Oh, and P.S., we haven’t found the new location yet,” V said over his shoulder as he stepped free of the study. “So the Jackal and his codependency issues with people in his past are a moot point.”
God, where had his post-session float gone?
It was like that shit with Jane hadn’t even happened, he thought as he finished the bag out in the hall.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
If she wants to go to the workroom, we go with her.”
As Apex laid things out like that, Rio appreciated the unexpected ally. Walking up to him, she nodded at the door. “All you have to do is take me back down the hall. I’ve got the layout of the room. I’ll be in and out in a second with a sample.”
