Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (158 page)

fulfilled my duty to you. What happens thereafter is not my concern.”

“If I ever catch you fucking with me, I’m going to kill you.”

Assail let out a bored breath. “My dear man, I wouldn’t waste my time with the likes of that. How

would you then get what you require? And to that end, may I remind you that there is no incentive for me to be dishonest with you or your organization. The profit you represent is what matters to me, and I shall do my level best to keep the funds flowing my way. It’s business.”

There was a long silence, but Assail knew better than to assume that it was because the slayer on

the other side of the conversation was confused or lost.

“I need another supply,” the
lesser
muttered after a moment.

“And I shall gladly provide it.”

“I need a loan.” Now Assail frowned—but the
lesser
continued before he could cut in. “You float me this next order, and I’ll make sure you get paid.”

“That is not how I do business.”

“Here’s what I know about you and yours. You have a small operation that controls a huge area.

You need distributors—because you killed all the ones that were here before. Without me and my

organization? No offense, you’re fucked. You can’t begin to service all of Caldwell—and your

product is worth nothing if you can’t get it into the hands of users.” When Assail didn’t immediately reply, the
lesser
laughed softly. “Or did you think you were unknown, my friend?”

Assail gripped his cell phone hard.

“So I’m thinkin’ you’re right,” the slayer concluded. “You and me are homies. I don’t need to deal

with whoever the big wholesaler is. Especially not in my…current incarnation.”

Yes, the smell alone would make Benloise shut the door in his face, Assail thought.

“I need you. You need me. And that is why you’re gonna bring my order to me and give me forty-

eight hours to pay for it. It’s just like you said. We got shit without the other, brother.”

Assail bared his fangs, the reflection of his face in the glass of the monitor fearsome indeed.

And yet he kept his voice even and calm. “Where would you like to meet.”

As the
lesser
laughed again, like he was enjoying this, Assail focused on the snarling image of

himself. It would be unwise for the slayer to get greedy, or take too many liberties.

The one thing that was always true about business? No one was irreplaceable.

As Trez came awake, he felt as though he were floating on a cloud—and for a split second, he

wondered if he was. His body felt completely weightless, to the point where he wasn’t sure whether

he was on his back or his stomach.

A strange sound filtered in through his fog.

Shhhscht.

He lifted his head, and orientation came to him in a rush: The red glow of his alarm clock told

him he was on his stomach and running diagonally down the bed.

That sound came again.

What was it? Metal on metal?

He could sense iAm moving around down the hall, his brother’s presence as known to him as his

own. So if it was anyone else in the apartment or a threat of any kind? iAm would handle that shit.

Pushing himself up, he got out of bed and—yeah, whoa, the room spun around. Then again, there

was absolutely, positively nothing in his stomach. Matter of fact, it was possible he’d thrown up his liver, kidneys, and lungs during that migraine. The good news was that the pain was gone, and the

spacey aftermath wasn’t bad. Kind of like being drunk, with the hangover front-loaded.

When he walked into the loo, he knew better than to turn on the lights. Little early for that still.

The shower felt so good he nearly teared the fuck up. And he didn’t bother shaving—there’d be

time for that later, after he’d thrown some fuel into his gut. Robe was nice—toasty, especially as he curled the lapels in and covered his throat up.

Bare feet kind of sucked, especially as he stepped out of his bedroom and into the marble-floored

hallway, but he needed to find out what the hell that—

Trez stopped as he came to the doorway of his brother’s suite of rooms. iAm was in his closet,

taking out shirts that were on hangers. As he pulled another armful together on the brass rod, that
shhhscht
sounded again.

Naturally, his brother didn’t seem surprised that Trez had made an appearance. He just threw the

load on his bed.

Fuck.

“Going somewhere?” Trez muttered, his voice too loud in his head.

“Yes.”

Crap. “Listen, iAm, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m packing you up, too.”

Trez blinked a couple of times.

“Oh?” At least the guy wasn’t pulling out solo. Unless he wanted the satisfaction of pitching

Trez’s gear off the balcony?

“I’ve found us somewhere more secure.”

“Is it in Caldwell?”

“Yes.”

Cue the
Jeopardy!
theme. “You wanna give me a zip code?”

“I would if I could.”

Trez groaned and leaned against the jamb, rubbing his eyes. “You’ve got us somewhere to go—

and you don’t know where it is?”

“No, I do not.”

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been a migraine, but a stroke. “I’m sorry. I’m not following—”

“We have”—iAm looked at his watch—“three hours to get packed up. Clothes and personals

only.”

“So it’s furnished,” Trez said dryly.

“Yes. It is.”

Trez wasted some time watching his brother be extra efficient with the packing. Shirts were

stripped off the hangers, folded precisely, put in black LV Epi luggage. Pants, same. Guns and knives went into matching steel briefcases.

At this rate, the guy was going to be done with his shit in a half hour.

“You gotta tell me where we’re going.”

iAm looked over. “We’re moving in with the Brotherhood.”

Trez’s brain got flushed, the fog clearing in an instant. “I’m sorry. What.”

“We’re moving in with them.”

Trez’s eyes bulged. “I’m…wait, I didn’t hear that right.”

“You did.”

“By whose authority.”

“Wrath, son of Wrath.”

“Shiiiiiiiiit. How in the hell did you pull that off?”

iAm shrugged, like he’d done nothing more than make a reservation at a Motel 6. “I talked to

Rehvenge.”

“Didn’t know the male had that kind of pull.”

“He doesn’t. But he went to Wrath—who appreciated our backing him up at that Council meeting.

The king feels as though we’d be additive on the home front.”

“He’s worried about a raid,” Trez said softly.

“Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. But what I do know is that no one’s going to find us there.”

Trez exhaled. So that was the “why” of it all: His brother didn’t want him to be dragged back to

the s’Hisbe any more than he did.

“You are amazing,” he said.

iAm just shrugged again, as was his way. “Can you start packing your stuff, or should I do the first shift on that?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He knocked on the jamb and started to turn away. “I owe you, my brother.”

“Trez.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

His brother’s eyes were grim. “This is not a get-out-of-jail-free thing. You can’t run from the

queen. I’m just buying us some time, here.”

Trez looked down at his bare feet—and wondered how far, in fact, he could go if they were

covered by Nike.

Pretty fucking far.

His brother was the one tie he hadn’t cut, the only thing he felt like he didn’t want to leave behind in order to save himself from a gilded life of sexual enslavement.

And in a moment like this, with the guy once again having stepped up to the plate in a big way…

he wondered if it was possible that he couldn’t walk away from iAm.

Maybe he was going to have to cave in to his destiny, after all.

Fucking queen. And her goddamn daughter.

The traditions made no sense. He’d never met the young princess. No one had. That was the way

it worked—the next in line to the throne was as sacred as her mother, because she was the one who

was going to lead them in the future. And like a rare rose, nobody was allowed to see her until she was properly mated.

Purity and all that.

Blah, blah, blah.

Once she was hitched, however, she was free to come out to society, free to live her life—within

the s’Hisbe. The sad-sack motherfucker who married the bitch? He took her place inside the palace

walls, doing whatever the hell she wanted, when she wanted—assuming he wasn’t worshipping at her

mother’s feet at the moment.

Yeah, that was a party.

And they thought he should feel honored to strap that yoke on?

Really.

He’d turned his body into a garbage dump in the last decade, fucking all those humans—and what

was truly whacked? He wished that all those pesky Homo Sapiens diseases were the kind of thing he

could pick up. No-go on that one. He’d had as much unsafe sex as he could with the other species and he was still healthy as a horse.

Pity.

“Trez?” iAm straightened. “Trez? Talk to me. Where you at?”

Trez stared at his brother, memorizing that proud, intelligent face and those bottomless,

penetrating eyes.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “See?”

He held out his hands and did a little circle in his bare feet, in his robe, in his spacey, fuzzy, post-migraine haze.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” iAm demanded.

“Nothing. I think it’s great what you did. I’ma go pack up and get ready. They sending a car or

something?”

iAm narrowed his stare, but he did answer. “Yeah. A butler named Fred? Or was it Foster?”

“I’ll be ready.”

Trez walked off, the dregs of that headache draining from him as he looked into the future…and

really worried about this one last tie of his.

But this move was a good thing. iAm was right: He had been fooling himself these last few years,

aware that the princess was aging, and time was passing, and his day of reckoning was fast

approaching.

There were things you could put off. This was not one of them.

Fucking hell, maybe he was going to have to disappear. Even if it killed him.

Besides, if his brother was with Rehv in the king’s household? iAm was going to have the kind of

support he was going to need if Trez up and got ghost.

And maybe, after the way shit was going?

The guy would be relieved to get rid of him.

SIXTY-NINE

Qhuinn’s whole life took another corkscrew about fifteen hours after he lost his virginity.

Later, he would decide that the comes-in-threes thing might be true. When the shit went

down, though, all he wanted to do was live through it….

Sometime during the hours of the day, he and Blay had woken up, split up, gone their

separate ways.

Qhuinn would have preferred that they return to the main house together, but he’d had to stop by

Luchas’s room, and Blay had been anxious to get back to his place and shower. And in a way, it

hadn’t been all that bad, because Qhuinn had had a chance to check on Layla as well.

When it came to his brother, and the Chosen, all was quiet on both fronts: The pair of them had

been asleep in their respective beds—Luchas’s color was better, and for the first time, when Qhuinn had walked into Layla’s bedroom? He had sensed the pregnancy: The hormone wave had hit him as

soon as he’d entered, and he’d stopped dead, it was so strong.

Which had been really good.

What he hadn’t been so happy about had been going by Blay’s door, and wanting to knock and

duck inside—and go back to sleep.

Instead, he’d ended up within his own four walls all by his lonesome.

In bed. In the dark. Drifting in and out of REM-landia for the two hours he had before First Meal

was served.

So when his door was thrown wide and a lineup of tall males in hooded black robes came filing

in, his past and his present collided, the two becoming interchangeable—such that the attack by the Honor Guard jumped up out of the graveyard of his memory and landed right in his room at the

mansion.

Unsure whether he was dreaming or any of this was real, his first thought was that he was glad

Blay wasn’t with him. The guy had already found him dead at the side of the road once. No one

needed a replay on that.

His second was that he was going to take out as many as he could before they finally finished the

job on him.

With a battle cry, Qhuinn exploded out of his bed, his naked body going on the attack with such

power, he actually plowed over the first two males. Spinning with his legs, he kicked and punched at anything that came at him, and there was a brief satisfaction as his targets cursed and jumped out of range—

Something locked around his chest from behind, and swung him around with such force, his feet