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And then oochie-poos-in-private could happen.
Some things, you only wanted yourshellanto know about.
Ready to get on with shit, Wrath reangled his face so he was “looking” out into the room. “We ready for the next one or what.”
Over to the right, Saxton cleared his throat, and there was a creak as he got up from his desk chair. “Ah, yes. And I believe I will excuse myself—”
Wrath narrowed his eyes behind his wraparounds. “You all right? What’s going on—”
“Oh, no, Sire. I am very well indeed. It’s just…”
There was a hesitation, and Wrath could imagine his solicitor looking in the direction of the two brothers who were on duty tonight. Qhuinn and Sahvage had been pairing up on schedules lately, the two falling into a team that was proving very effective out in the field of Caldwell’s downtown—and then also here, with these civilian meetings. The rule was that there had to be two brothers in the room, and two more on the premises, at all times.
It was the reasonable thing to do, set up by Tohr, who was the most reasonable of all of the Brotherhood.
And it chapped Wrath’s ass like a bike seat.
“Somebody better get fucking talking,” he commanded. “Why is my lawyer recusing himself.”
There was a brisk knock, and after Sahvage barked out a yup, the scent that entered what had once been the house’s formal dining room was not exactly a surprise—but it wasn’t expected, either.
“Rehvenge,” he said. “What we got.”
The King ofsymphathswas always welcome. But this was not a friendly little hi-how’re-ya: There were no greetings by the brothers, and Sax being prepared to leave? The only conclusion was that some kind of shit had hit some sort of fan, and everyone else knew what was going on but—
“Saxton, you stay,” he ordered.
“My lord… ah…”
And then two other people came in. As soon as their scents registered, he cursed. This was not going to be a run-of-the-mill civilian dispute. Nope. John Matthew and Xhex shouldn’t have been in this part of town at this time of night: The former was supposed to be out in the field, and the latter was in charge of security for that club down on Market—a full-time job and then some.
Plus what do you know. The tension in them both thickened the air, an astringent tang that changed their normal scents.
“Go,” he said in a low voice to Sax.
“Thank you, my Lord.”
There was a shifting of fine clothes—the male bowing—and then the solicitor took his leave faster than a coin in a slot, the double doors being closed quick.
“Whatever it is,” Wrath announced, “I’m down. Just spit the shit out.”
In the quiet that followed, he imagined all kinds of eyeballs shifting around as the group that remained decided who was going to draw the short stick and drop the bad news. He had the sense that Qhuinn and Sahvage might be in on it, too, because they started pacing, the pair walking back and forth along the windows at the far side of the long space—
“Somebody better start fucking talking.Now.”
At his feet George sat up and put his big, boxy head on Wrath’s thigh. The golden was supposed to help with the lack of sight going on, but over the years, he’d shifted into the emotional support animal crap. Which Wrath didn’t need. He took care of himself.
His dagger hand went to that soft fur, and as he stroked things and fiddled with an ear, his blood pressure eased up a little, his temples not pounding so much—
“I killed three people. Maybe four. Maybe… more.”
As Xhex spoke up, Wrath angled in her direction, relief rolling through him. That was her goddamnjob, wasn’t it? Then again, if the unaliving had taken place as part of her employment, there would be no need for all this.
“What were the circumstances.”
“It was at the club.” The female cleared her throat. “They were… dangerous to my customers.”
“And?” Wrath drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “What’s the problem. You handled your business with some humans. As long as you covered your tracks, there’s not a problem—”
