Okay, this was either cool as hell or scary as fuck. As Jane walked along, it was like she was going through an underground tunnel in a Jerry Bruckheimer movie. This setup was straight out of high-budget Hollywood: steel, dimly lit from inset fluorescent lights, infinitely long. At any minute Bruce Willis circa 1980 was going to come running by on his bare feet wearing a ratty muscle shirt and a machine gun.
She glanced up at the fluorescent panels in the ceiling, then down to the polished metal floor. She was willing to bet that if she took a drill to the walls they'd be half a foot thick. Man, these guys had money. Big money. More than you could get if you were dealing prescription drugs on the black market or servicing coke, crack, and crank addictions. This was government-scale money, suggesting vampires weren't just another species; they were another civilization.
As the three of them went along, she was surprised they'd left her unrestrained. Then again, the patient and his buddy were armed with guns¡ª
"No." The patient shook his head at her. "You're not in cuffs because you won't run."
Jane's mouth about fell open. "Don't read my mind."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to, it just happened."
She cleared her throat, trying not to measure how great he looked standing up. Dressed in Black Watch plaid pajama bottoms and a black muscle shirt, he was moving slowly, but with a lethal confidence that was a knockout.
What had they been talking about? "How do you know I won't run for it?"
"You won't bail on someone who requires medical attention. It's not in your nature, true?"
Well... shit. He knew her pretty well.
"Yeah, I do," he said.
"Cut that out."
Red Sox looked around Jane at the patient. "Your mind reading coming back?"
"With her? Sometimes."
"Huh. You getting anything from anyone else?"
"Nope."
Red Sox repositioned his hat. "Well, ah... let me know if you pick up shit from me, k? There are some things that I'd prefer to keep private, feel me?"
"Roger that. Although I can't help it sometimes."
"Which is why I'm going to take up thinking about baseball when you're around."
"Thank fuck you're not a Yankees fan."
"Don't use the Y-word. We're in mixed company."
Nothing else was said as they continued through the tunnel, and Jane had to wonder whether she was losing her mind. She should have been terrified in this dark, subterranean place with two huge escorts of a vampire nature. But she wasn't. Oddly, she felt safe... as if the patient would protect her because of the vow he'd given her, and Red Sox would do the same because of his bond with the patient.
Where the hell was the logic in that, she wondered.
Gimme an S! A T! An O! A C! Followed by a K-H-O-L-M! What's it spell? HEAD FUCK.
The patient leaned down to her ear. "I can't see you as the cheerleader type. But you're right, we both would slaughter anything that so much as startled you." The patient straightened again, one giant testosterone surge plugged into shitkickers.
Jane tapped him on the forearm and crocked her forefinger so he'd lean back down. When he did, she whispered, "I'm scared of mice and spiders. But you don't need to use that gun on your hip to blow a hole in a wall if I ran into one, okay? Havaheart traps and rolled newspapers work just as well. Plus, you don't need a Sheetrock patch and plaster job afterward. I'm just saying."
She patted his arm, dismissing him, and refocused on the tunnel ahead.
V started to laugh, awkwardly at first, then more deeply, and she felt Red Sox staring at her. She met his eyes with hesitation, expecting to find some kind of disapproval thing going on. Instead, there was only relief. Relief and approval as the man... male... Christ, whatever... looked at her and then his friend.
Jane flushed and glanced away. The fact that they guy was obviously not pulling a best-friend pissing contest with her over V should not have been a bonus. Not at all.
A hundred yards later they came up to a set of shallow stairs that led to a door with a bolt-based locking mechanism the size of her head on it. As the patient stepped up and put in a code, she imagined they were going to walk into a 007 kind of deal¡ª
Well, not hardly. It was a closet with shelves of yellow-lined legal pads and printer cartridges and boxes of document clips. Maybe on the other side...
Nope. It was just an office. A regular middle-management kind of office with a desk and a swivel chair and file cabinets and a computer.
Okay, no Jerry Bruckheimer/Die Hard here. Try a commercial for Allstate insurance. Or a mortgage company.
"This way," V said.
They went out through a glass door and down an unmarked white corridor to some stainless-steel double doors. Beyond them was a professional-quality gym, one big enough to host a pro basketball game, a wrestling match, and a volleyball exhibition at the same time. Blue mats were laid out across the glossy honey-colored floor, and there were punching bags hanging from under a stacked row of elevated bleachers.
Big money. Huge. And how had they constructed all this without someone on the human side of things catching on? There must be a lot of vampires. Had to be.
Workmen and architects and craftsmen... all able to pass among humans if they wanted to.
The geneticist in her got a serious case of brain strain. If chimpanzees shared ninety-eight percent of the DNA of humans, how close were vampires? And evolutionarily speaking, when did this other species branch off from apes and Homo sapiens? Yeah... wow... she'd give anything to get a crack at their double helix. If they were indeed going to clean her mind before they let her go, medical science was missing out on so much. Especially as they didn't get cancer and healed so fast.
What an opportunity.
At the far side of the gym they stopped in front of a steel door marked EQUIPMENT/PT ROOM. Inside there were racks and stacks of weapons: An arsenal of marital arts swords and nunchakus. Daggers that were locked in closets. Guns. Throwing stars.
"Dear... God."
"This is just for training purposes," said with a whole lot of meh.
"Then what the hell do you use to fight with?" As all kinds of War of the Worlds scenarios marched through her head, she caught the familiar scent of blood. Well, semi-familiar. There was a different tint to the smell, something spicy, and she remembered the same winelike fragrance when she'd been in the OR with her patient.
Across the way a door marked physical therapy, swung open. The beautiful blond vampire who'd trucked her out of the hospital put his head around the jamb. "Thank God you're here."
All Jane's physician instincts came online as she walked into a tiled room and saw the soles of a pair of shitkickers hanging off a gurney. She pushed ahead of the men, shoving them out of her way so she could get to the guy lying on the table.
It was the one who'd hypnotized her, the one with the yellow eyes and the spectacular hair. And he really needed attention. His left orbital region was crushed inward, the lid so swollen he couldn't open the thing, that half of his face twice the size it should be. She had a feeling the bone above his eye was collapsed, and so was the one on his cheek.
She put her hand on his shoulder and met him in the eye that was open. "You're a mess."
He cracked a weak smile. "You don't say."
"But I'm going to fix you."
"You think you can?"
"No." She shook her head back and forth. "I know I can."
She wasn't a plastic surgeon, but given his healing capabilities, she was confident she could address the issues he had without marring his looks. Assuming she had the right supplies.
The door swung wide again, and Jane froze. Oh, God, it was the giant with the jet-black hair and the black wraparound sunglasses. She'd wondered if she hadn't dreamed him, but evidently he was real. Totally real. And in charge. He carried himself like he owned everything and everybody in the room and could do away with it all in a swipe of his hand.
He took one look at her next to the guy on the gurney and said, "Tell me this is not what's happening."
Instinctively Jane stepped back in the direction of V, and just as she did, she felt him come up behind her. Although he didn't touch her, she knew he was close. And prepared to defend her.
The black-haired one shook his head at the wounded guy. "Phury... for fuck's sake, we need to get you to Havers's."
Phury? What the hell kind of name was that?
"No," was the weak response.
"Why the hell not?"
"Bella's there. She sees me like this... going to freak... She's already bleeding."
"Ah... shit."
"And we have someone here," the guy said wheezed. His one eye moved over to Jane. "Right?"
As they all looked in her direction, the black-haired one was clearly cranked out. So it was a surprise when he said, "Will you treat our brother?"
The request was nonthreatening and respectful. Evidently he'd been upset primarily that his buddy was down for the count and not getting treated.
She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I will. But what do I have to work with? I'm going to want to knock him out¡ª"
"Don't worry about that," Phury said.
She shot him a level stare. "You want me to put your face back together without general anesthesia?"
"Yes."
Maybe they had a different pain tolerance¡ª
"Are you insane?" Red Sox muttered.
Okay, maybe not.
But enough with the talk. Assuming this boy with the Rocky Balboa puss healed as fast as her patient did, she had to get operating now, before the bones knit together wrong and she had to rebreak them.
Looking around the room, she saw glass-fronted cabinets full of supplies and hoped like hell she could put together a surgical kit from what was around. "I don't suppose any of you have medical experience?"
V spoke up, right at her ear, almost as close as her clothes. "Yeah, I can assist. I'm trained as a paramedic."
She eyed him over her shoulder, a lick of heat going through her.
Get back in the game, Whitcomb. "Good. You got any kind of local anesthesia?"
"Lidocaine."
"How about some sedatives? And maybe a little morphine. If he flinches at the wrong time, I could blind him."
"Yeah." As V started for the rows of stainless-steel cabinets, she noticed he was wobbly. That walk down the tunnel had been a long one, and even though he seemed healed on the surface, he was still just days out of open-heart surgery.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "You're going to sit down." She glanced over at Red Sox. "Get him a chair. Now." When the patient cracked his mouth to argue, she blew him off by heading across the room. "Not interested in it. I need you on the ball while I operate, and this could take a while. You're better, but you're not as strong as you think you are, so sit your ass down and tell me where to get what I need."
There was a heartbeat of silence, then someone barked a laugh while her patient cursed in the background. The kinglike one started to grin at her.
Red Sox rolled a chair over from the whirlpool bath and shoved it right into the backs of V's legs. "Park it, big guy. On your doctor's orders."
When the patient sat down, she said, "Now, here's what I'm going to want."
She listed the standard scalpel, forceps, and suction supplies, then asked for surgical wire and thread, Betadine, saline solution to rinse, gauze padding, latex gloves...
She was amazed at how quickly it came together, but then, she and her patient were on the same wavelength. He directed her around the room succinctly, anticipated what she might want, and didn't waste words. The perfect nurse, as it were.
She let out a huge sigh of relief that they had a surgical drill. "And I don't suppose you have a magnifying headset?"
"Cabinet by the crash cart," V said. "Lower drawer. Left side. You want me to scrub in?"
"Yup." She went over and found the set. "We have X-ray capability?"
"No."
"Shit." She put her hands on her hips. "Whatever. I'll go in blind."
As she put the headset on, V. got up and went to work on his hands and forearms over the sink in the far corner. When he was done she took his place, then they gloved up.
She came back to Phury, meeting him in his good eye. "This is probably going to hurt even with the local and some morphine. You'll probably pass out, and I hope it happens sooner rather than later."
She went for a syringe and felt the familiar sense of power come to her as she set about fixing what needed to be repaired¡ª
"Wait," he said. "No drugs."
"What?"
"Just do it." There was a gruesome anticipation in his eye, one that was not right on so many levels. He wanted to be hurt.
She narrowed her stare. And wondered if he had let this happen to himself.
"Sorry." Jane pierced the rubber seal of the lidocaine vial with the needle. As she drew out what she needed she said, "There is no way in hell I'm going in without you numbed up. You feel strongly to the contrary, find yourself another surgeon."
She put the little glass bottle down on a steel rolling tray and leaned over his face, syringe up in the air. "So what's it going to be? Me and this knockout sauce or... gee, no one?"
That yellow stare flared with anger, like she'd cheated him out of something.
But then the kinglike guy spoke up. "Phury, don't be an ass. This is your vision we're talking about. Shut up and let her do her job."
The yellow eye closed. "Fine," the guy muttered.
It was about two hours later that Vishous decided he was in trouble. Big trouble. As he stared at the rows of neat little black stitches in Phury's face, he was overwhelmed to the point of silence.
Yeah. He was in mega trouble.
Jane Whitcomb, M.D., was a master surgeon. An absolute artist. Her hands were elegant instruments, her eyes sharp as the scalpel she used, her focus as fierce and all-consuming as that of a warrior in battle. At times she'd worked with a blurring speed, and at others she'd slowed down until it seemed like she wasn't moving at all: Phury's orbital bone had been broken in a number of places, and Jane had put him back together step by step, removing chips that were white as oyster shells, drilling into the cranium and running wire between fragments, putting a small screw in his cheek.
V could tell she wasn't completely happy with the end result by the hard look on her face as she'd closed. And when he'd asked her what the problem was, she'd told him that she would have preferred to put a plate in Phury's cheek, but as they didn't have that kind of kit handy, she was just going to hope the bone knit fast.
From start to finish she'd been totally in control. To the point where it had turned him on, which was both absurd and shameful. It was just that he'd never met a female¡ªa woman¡ªlike her before. She'd just cared for his brother superbly, with skill V himself couldn't hope to match.
Oh, God... He was in such fucking trouble here.
"How's his blood pressure?" she asked.
"Steady," he replied. Phury had passed out about ten minutes in, though his breathing had remained strong and so had his BP.
As Jane wiped off the area around the eye and cheekbone and started to pack it with gauze, Wrath cleared his throat at the doorway. "What about his vision?"
"We won't know until he tells us," Jane said. "I have no way of ascertaining whether his optic nerve has been damaged or whether there was any retinal or cornea damage. If any of that has happened, he's going to have to go to another facility to get it repaired, and not just because of the limited resources here. I'm not an eye surgeon, and I wouldn't even attempt that kind of operation."
The king pushed his sunglasses up a little higher on his straight nose. Like he was thinking of his weak eyes and hoping Phury didn't have to deal with that kind of problem.
After Jane covered the side of Phury's face with gauze, she ran a length of bandage around his head like a turban, then put the instruments she'd used in the autoclave. To keep from watching her obsessively, V got busy throwing out the used syringes, pads, and needles along with the disposable tube from the suction draw.
Jane snapped off her surgical gloves. "Let's talk infection. How susceptible is your kind?"
"Not very." V lowered himself back into his chair. He hated to admit it, but he was tired. If she hadn't made him take a load off, he'd be totally dead on his feet by now. "Our immune systems are very strong."
"Would your doctor have him on antibiotics as a prophylactic?"
"No."
She went over to Phury and stared at him like she was reading his vital signs without the benefit of a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. Then she reached out and smoothed his extravagant hair back. The ownership in her eyes and the gesture bugged V even though it shouldn't have. Of course she'd take a special interest in his brother. She'd just put the side of his face back together.
But still.
Shit, bonded males were a pain in the ass, weren't they?
Jane leaned down to Phury's ear. "You did well. It's going to be all right. You just rest and let that fancy healing of yours go to work, okay?" After patting his shoulder, she turned off the high-powered chandelier over the gurney. "God, I'd love to study your kind."
A blast of cold came from the corner, as Wrath said, "Not a chance, Doc. We aren't playing guinea pig for the Ekes of the human race."
"I wasn't getting my hopes up." She glanced around at all of them. "I don't want him unattended, so either I'm staying with him here or someone else is. And if I leave, I'm going to want to check on him in about two hours to see how he's coming along."
"We'll stay here," V said.
"You look like you're about to fall over."
"Not a chance of that."
"Only because you're sitting down."
The idea that he was weak in front of her sharpened his voice. "You don't worry about me, female."
She frowned. "Okay, that was a statement of fact, not concern. Do what you want with it."
Ouch. Yeah ... just ouch.
"Whatever. I'll be out there." He got up and left quick.
In the equipment room he grabbed a bottle of Aquafina from the cooler, then stretched out on one of the benches. As he cracked the cap he was dimly aware of Wrath and Rhage coming over and saying something to him, but he wasn't tracking.
That he wanted Jane to care about him drove him nuts. That he was hurt when she didn't was even more of an ego fuck.
He closed his eyes and tried to be logical. He hadn't slept in weeks. He'd been plagued by that nightmare. He'd almost died.
He'd met his frickin' mommy.
V sucked back most of the water. He was beyond off-kilter, and that had to be why he was catching feelings. It really wasn't about Jane. It was situational. His life was a fruit salad of fuck-mes, and that was the reason he was getting chicky about her. Because sure as shit she was giving him nothing to go on. She treated him as a patient and as a scientific curiosity. And that orgasm he'd almost given her? He was damn sure that if she'd been wide-awake it never would have happened: Those images she'd had of him were a woman's fantasy about being with a dangerous monster. They were not about her wanting him in real life.
"Hey."
V opened his eyes and looked up at Butch. "Hey." The cop shoved V's feet aside and sat down on the bench. "Man, she did a bang-up job with Phury, didn't she?"
"Yeah." V glanced at the open door to the PT suite. "What's she doing in there?"
"Going through all the cabinets. Said she wanted to know what the inventory was, but I really think she's just hanging around Phury and trying to be casual about it."
"She doesn't have to watch him all the time," V muttered.
As the sentence flew out of his mouth, he couldn't believe he was jealous of his injured brother. "What I mean is¡ª"
"Nah. Don't worry. I gotchu."
As Butch started to crack his knuckles, V cursed in his head and thought about leaving. Those popping sounds tended to be the prelude to Meaningful Conversation. "What."
Butch flexed his arms, his Gucci button-down stretching tight over his shoulders. "Nada. Well, other than... I do want you to know that I approve."
"Of what?"
"Her. You and her." Butch glanced over, then looked away. "It's a good combo."
In the silence that followed, V traced the profile of his best friend, from the dark hair that fell over a smart forehead to the busted nose to the jutting jaw. For the first time in quite a while he didn't crave Butch. Which should have been classed as an improvement. Instead, he felt worse for a different reason.
"There is no her and me, buddy."
"Bullshit. I saw it right after you healed me. And the connected's getting stronger by the hour."
"Nothing's doing. I'm popping the solid-gold truth to you."
"Okay, well... how's that water feeling?"
"Excuse me?"
"The Nile warm this time of year?"
As V ignored the jab, he found himself focusing on Butch's lips. In a very quiet voice, he said, "You know... I totally wanted to have sex with you."
"I know." Butch's head twisted around, and their eyes met. "Past tense now, huh."
"Think so. Yeah."
Butch nodded toward the PT suite's open door. "Because of her."
"Maybe." V looked across the equipment room and caught sight of Jane as she rifled through a cabinet. His body's response as she bent at the waist was immediate, and he had to shift his hips to keep the head of his erection from being squeezed like an orange. As the pain ebbed, he thought about what he'd felt toward his roommate. "Have to say, I was surprised you were so cool with it. Thought it would creep you out or some shit."
"Can't help how you feel." Butch stared down at his hands, checking the nails. The clasp on his Piaget. The placement of his platinum cuff link. "Besides..."
"What?"
The cop shook his head. "Nothing."
"Say it."
"Nope." Butch stood up and stretched, his big body arching. "I'm going to head back to the Pit¡ª"
"You wanted me. Maybe just a little."
Butch settled back on his spine, his arms falling to his sides, his head dropping into place. He frowned, his face crinkling up. "I'm not gay, though."
V dropped his jaw like a quarter and bobble-headed it. "No, really? That's such a shocker. I was sure all that I'm-a-good-Irish-Catholic-boy-from-Southie shit was a front."
Butch flipped the bird. "Whatever. And I'm down with homosexuals. Far as I'm concerned people should fuck whoever they want in whatever way gets them off as long as everyone involved is over eighteen and no one gets hurt. I just happen to dig the females."
"Relax. I'm only jerking you."
"You'd better be. You know I'm not a 'phobe."
"Yeah, I know."
"So are you?"
"A 'phobe?"
"Gay or bi."
As V exhaled, he wished it was because he had a cigarette between his lips, and on reflex he patted his pocket, comforted by the fact that he'd brought some handrolls with him.
"Look, V, I know you do females, but the way you do them is only the leather-and-wax road. Is it different between you and guys?"
V stroked his goatee with his gloved hand. He'd always felt like there was nothing he and Butch couldn't say to each other. But this... this was hard. Mostly because he didn't want anything to change between them and had always feared that if his sexual endeavors were discussed too openly it would get weird. Truth was, Butch was a hetero by nature, not just background. And if he'd felt a little something different here or there for V? It was an aberration that probably made him uncomfortable.
V rolled the Aquafina bottle between his palms. "How long have you wanted to ask me the question? About the gay thing."
"For a while."
"Afraid of what I'd say?"
"Nope, because it doesn't matter to me one way or the other. I'm tight with you whether you like males or females or both."
V looked into his best friend's eyes and realized... yeah, Butch wasn't going to judge him. They were cool no matter what.
With a curse, V rubbed the center of his chest and blinked. He never cried but he felt as if he could at this moment.
Butch nodded as if he knew exactly what was doing. "Like I said, my man, it's whatever. You and me? Same as always, no matter who you screw. Although... if you're into sheep, that would be tough. Don't know if I could handle that."
V had to smile. "I don't do farm animals."
"Can't stand hay in your leathers?"
"Or wool in my teeth."
"Ah." Butch looked back over. "So what's the answer, V?"
"What do you think it is?"
"I think you've done males."
"Yeah. I have."
"But I'm guessing..." Butch wagged his finger. "I'm guessing you don't like them any more than the females you Dom. Both sexes are irrelevant to you in the long run because you've never really cared about anyone. Except for me. And... your surgeon."
V dropped his eyes, hating that he was so transparent, but not really surprised by the thin-veil routine he was sporting. He and Butch were like that. No secrets. And in that vein... "I probably should tell you something, cop."
"What?"
"I raped a male once."
Man, you could have heard crickets chirping for the silence.
After a while Butch sank back down on the bench. "You did?"
"Back in the warrior camp, if you beat someone while sparring, you fucked them in front of the rest of the soldiers. And I won the first fight I was in after my transition. The male... I guess he'd consented in a way. I mean, he submitted, but it wasn't right. I... yeah, I didn't want to do it to him, but I didn't stop." V took out a cigarette from his pocket and stared down at the thin white roll. "It was right before I left the camp. Right before... other things happened to me."
"Was that your first time?"
V took out his lighter but didn't strik up a flame. "Helluva way to start, huh."
"Jesus..."
"Anyway, after I was out in the world for a while, I experimented with a lot of shit. I was really angry and... yeah, just totally pissed off." He looked over at Butch. "There's not much I haven't done, cop. And most of it's been hard-core, if you feel me. There's always been consent, but it was¡ªit still is¡ªon the rails." V laughed tightly. "As well as curiously forgettable."
Butch was quiet for a time. Then he said, "I think that's why I like Jane."
"Huh?"
"When you look at her? You actually see her, and when's the last time that's happened for you?"
V geared himself up, then stared hard into Butch's eyes. "I saw you. Even though it was wrong. I saw you."
Shit, he sounded sad. Sad and... lonely. Which made him want to change the subject.
Butch clapped V on the thigh, then stood up, as if he knew exactly what V was thinking. "Listen, I don't want you to feel bad. It's my animal magnetism. I'm irresistible."
"Smart-ass." V's smile didn't last long. "Don't get your romantic side fired up about me and Jane, buddy. She's human."
Butch's jaw dropped and he pulled a bobble. "No, really? That's such a shocker! And here I thought she was a sheep."
V shot Butch a fuck-ya stare. "She's not into me like that. Not really."
"You sure about that?"
"Yup."
"Huh. Well, if I were you I might test that theory before you let her go." Butch shoved a hand through his hair. "Listen, I... shit."
"What?"
"I'm glad you told me. About the sex stuff."
"None of it was a news flash."
"True. But I figure you came out with it because you trust my ass."
"I do. Now drag it back to the Pit. Marissa's got to be coming home soon."
"She is," Butch headed for the door but then paused and looked over his shoulder. "V?"
Vishous raised his stare. "Yeah?"
"I think you should know, after all this deep conversatin'..." Butch shook his head gravely. "We still ain't dating."
The two of them busted out laughing, and the cop was still yukking it up as he disappeared into the gym.
"What's so funny?" Jane asked.
V braced himself before looking at her, hoping like hell she didn't know how hard it was for him to front like he was level. "My buddy's just being an ass. It's his life's work."
"Everyone needs a purpose."
"True."
She sat down on the bench across the way, and his eyes ate her up like he'd been in the dark for ages and she was a candle.
"Are you going to need to feed again?" she asked.
"Doubt it. Why?"
"Your coloring is off."
Well, having your chest this tight will do that to a guy. "I'm good."
There was a long silence. Then she said, "I was worried in there."
The exhaustion in her voice made him see past his attraction for her and pick up on the fact that her shoulders were slumped and there were dark circles under her eyes and her lids were low. She was clearly wiped.
You need to let her go, he thought. Soon.
"Why were you worried?" he asked.
"Very tricky area to fix in a field situation. Which was what this was." She rubbed her face. "You were great, by the way."
His brows popped. "Thanks."
With a groan, she tucked her feet up under her butt, just as she had back in the bedroom in that chair. "I'm concerned about his sight."
Man, he wished he could rub her back. "Yeah, he doesn't need another liability."
"He has one already?"
"Prosthetic leg¡ª"
"V? Mind if I talk to you for a sec?"
V's head shot around to the gym's doorway. Rhage was back, still dressed in his fighting leathers. "Hey, Hollywood. What's up?"
Jane uncurled herself. "I can go into the other¡ª"
"Stay," V said. None of this was going to be permanent for her, so it didn't matter what she heard. And besides... there was a part of him¡ªa sappy part that made him want to clap himself on the head with a liquor bottle¡ªthat wanted to milk every second he had with her.
As she settled back into place, V nodded at his brother. "Talk."
Rhage glanced back and forth between him and Jane, his teal eyes too shrewd for V's taste. Then the guy shrugged. "I found an incapacitated lesser tonight."
"Incapacitated how?"
"Gutted."
"By one of its own?"
Rhage glanced at the PT room door. "Nope."
V looked in that direction and frowned. "Phury? Oh, come on, he would never pull any Clive Barker shit. Must have been one hell of a fight."
"We're talking field-dressed, V. Surgical cuts. And it's not like the thing had swallowed the brother's car keys and he was looking to get 'em back. I think he did it for no good reason."
Well... shit. Among the Brotherhood, Phury was the gentleman, the noble fighter, the one who was Boy Scout¡ªtight about things. He had all kinds of standards for himself, and honor in the combat arena was one of them, even though their enemies didn't deserve the favor.
"I can't believe it," V muttered. "I mean... shit."
Rhage took a Tootsie Pop out of his pocket, peeled off the wrapper, and pieholed the thing. "I don't give a crap if he wants to shred those fuckers like tax returns. What I'm not into is what's driving the behavior. If he's knifing like that, there's some high-level frustration going on. Plus if the reason he got cracked in the face tonight was because he was so busy playing Saw II, then it's safety issue."
"You tell Wrath?"
"Not yet. I was going to talk to Z first. Assuming everything goes okay with Bella tonight at Havers's."
"Ah... that's Phury's why, then, true? Anything happens to that female or the young inside her and we're going to have to deal with both of them like you read about." V cursed to himself, suddenly thinking of all the pregnancies in his future. Fuck. That Primale shit was going to kill him.
Rhage bit down on the Tootsie Pop, the crunch muffled by his flawless cheek. "Phury's got to cut that obsession with her."
V looked down at the floor. "No doubt he would if he could."
"Listen, I'm going to go find Z." Rhage pulled the white stick out of his mouth and wrapped it in the purple wrapper. "You two need anything?"
V glanced at Jane. Her eyes were on Rhage and she was sizing him up as a doctor would, taking note of the composition of his body, doing his internal math in her head. Or, at least, V hoped that was what was doing. Hollywood was a good-looking bastard.
As V's fangs throbbed in warning, he wondered if he was ever going to get his calm and cool back. It seemed like he was jealous of everything in pants with Jane around.
"No, we're good," he said to his brother. "Thanks, man."
After Rhage left and closed the door, Jane shifted around on her bench, stretching her legs out. With a ridiculous surge of satisfaction, he realized they were sitting in exactly the same position.
"What's a lesser?" she asked.
He called himself a loser as he looked over at her. "An undead killer who's trying to hunt my kind into extinction."
"Undead?" Her forehead bunched up, as if her brain were rejecting what she'd heard. Like it was a widget that hadn't passed quality control. "Undead how?"
"Long story."
"We have time."
"Not that much." Not much at all.
"Was that what shot you?"
"Yup."
"And what attacked Phury?"
"Yup."
There was a long silence. "I'm glad he cut one of them up, then."
V's eyebrows danced with his hairline. "You are?"
"The geneticist in me abhors extinction. Genocide is... utterly unforgivable." She got up and went to the door to look in at Phury. "Do you kill them? The... lessers?"
"That's what we're for. My brothers and I were bred to fight."
"Bred?" Her dark green eyes shifted to his. "What do you mean?"
"The geneticist in you knows exactly what I mean." As the word Primale pinged around his skull like a loose bullet, he cleared his throat. Shit, he was so not in a big hurry to talk about his future as the Chosen's stud with the woman he actually wanted to be with. Who was leaving. At, like, sundown.
"And this is a facility for training more of you?"
"Well, soldiers to support us. My brothers and I are a little different."
"How so?"
"Like I said, we were specifically bred for strength and endurance and healing."
"By whom?"
"Another long story."
"Try me." When he didn't reply, she pressed, "Come on. We might as well talk, and I'm really interested in your kind."
Not him. His kind.
V swallowed a curse. Man, if he were any more chicked-out about her, he'd be wearing nail polish.
He really wanted to light the cigarette in his hand, but he wasn't about to around her. "Standard stuff. The strongest males were mated to the shrewdest females. Which resulted in guys like me, who are the best bet for the protection of the race."
"And the female births from these pairings?"
"Were the basis of the spiritual life of the species."
"Were? So that kind of selective breeding doesn't go on anymore?"
"Actually... it's starting up again." Damn, he really needed a cigarette. "Will you excuse me?"
"Where are you going?"
"Out to the gym for a smoke." He slipped the hand rolled between his lips, stood up, and went just beyond the equipment room's door. Leaning against the gym's concrete wall, he set the Aquafina bottle down at his feet and put his lighter to good use. As he thought about his mother, he exhaled a smoky fuck.
"The bullet was strange."
V snapped his head around. Jane was in the doorway, arms across her chest, her blond hair messed up like she'd been pushing a hand through it.
"Excuse me?"
"The bullet that hit you. Do they use different weapons?"
He blew his next stream of smoke out in the opposite direction, away from her. "How was it strange?"
"Normally bullets are conical in shape, the tops either coming to a sharp angle if it's a rifle or being more blunt if it's a pistol. The one in you is round."
V took another draw on his handrolled. "You saw this on the X-ray?"
"Yeah, read like normal lead as far as I could see. The bullet was slightly uneven around the edges, but that was likely caused by it banging around your rib cage."
"Well... God only knows what kind of new technology the lessers are tripping with. They have toys just like we have toys." He looked at the tip of the cigarette. "Speaking of which, I should say thank-you."
"For what?"
"Saving me."
"You're very welcome." She laughed a little. "I was so surprised at your heart."
"You were?"
"Never seen anything like it before." She nodded to the PT room. "I want to stay here with you guys until your brother's healed up, okay? I have a bad feeling about him. Can't put my finger on it... He looks all right, but my instincts are ringing, and when they go off like this I'm always sorry if I don't follow them. Besides, I'm not due back to real life until Monday morning anyway."
V froze with the handrolled on the way up to his lips.
"What?" she said. "There a problem with that?"
"Ah... no. No problem. At all."
She was staying. A little longer.
V smiled to himself. So this was what winning the lottery felt like.
