Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (66 page)

Calm before the storm.

“Thanks for driving me home,” he said. And meant it. He hated relying on anyone else, but it was

pretty damn hard not to hit anything when you had a neon sign flashing in the back of both eyeballs.

“I figured it was better this way.”

“Yeah.”

He and his brother hadn’t talked about the high priest’s visit since it happened, but that hi-how’re-ya from AnsLai was still very much between them—but at least iAm had put aside the pissed off long

enough to get him back here.

Trez’s first clue that the headache was gearing up was the way the subtle ding that announced its

destination shot through his brain like a bullet.

He groaned as the doors slid open. “This is going to be bad.”

“Didn’t you have one last week?”

He wondered how many more people could ask him that.

iAm took care of the lock on the door, and Trez dumped his jacket three feet into the apartment.

He shed his black cashmere sweater on the way down to his bedroom, and was unbuttoning his silk

shirt as he walked into—

As he froze, the one and only thing that shot through his head was that scene from the movie

Trading Places
—when Eddie Murphy walks into his room at the fancy digs and a half-naked chick sits up in his bed and goes, “Hey, Billy Ray.”

The difference in this situation was that his stalker, the one with the bouncer boyfriend and the

trust issues, was blond, and not wearing early eighties Spandex pants. Matter of fact, she was fully, motherfucking, buck-ass naked.

The gun that appeared over his shoulder was steady and accessorized with a suppressor.

So iAm could have killed her, no problem.

“I thought you’d be glad to see me,” the chippie said, looking back and forth between him and his

brother’s muzzle.

Like she wanted to make herself more appealing, she lifted one arm to fuss with her hair—but if

she were hoping her breasts would sway enticingly, she was out of luck: Those rock-hard falsies of

hers were as unmovable as something bolted to a wall.

“How did you get in here,” Trez demanded.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” When no one answered her, and that gun stayed up, she pouted. “I

got friendly with the security guard, okay. What. Oh, come on…fine, I blew him, okay.”

Classy.

And that dumb-ass bastard rent-a-cop was going to be out of a job.

Trez walked over to the pile of clothes by the end of the bed. “Put these back on and get out.”

God, he was tired.

“Oh, come on,” she whined as her things fluttered all around her. “I just wanted to surprise you

when you got home from work. I thought this would make you happy.”

“Well, it doesn’t. You need to get the fuck out—” As she opened her mouth like she was going to

go psycho on him, he shook his head and cut her off. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not in the mood, and my brother over here really doesn’t care whether you walk out of here or get carried out in a bag.

Get dressed. Get out.”

The chippie looked back and forth again. “You were so nice to me the other night.”

Trez winced as the pain stepped up to the plate and started swinging on the right side of his head.

“Honey, I’m going to be real honest here. I don’t even know your name. We banged twice—”

“Three times—”

“I don’t care how many it was. What I do know is that you’re going to let this go tonight. If you

come around me or my place again, I’m going to…” The Shadow in him wanted to go in a more

blood-thirsty direction, but he forced himself to stay on human terms she’d understand. “…call the

police. And you don’t want that, because you’re a drug addict who deals on the side, and if they

search your shit, your car, your place, they’re going to find more than just paraphernalia. They’re going to bust you and that idiot meathead you’re sleeping with for possession with intent to distribute, and you’re going to fucking jail.”

The chippie just blinked.

“Don’t push me, sweetie,” Trez said in an exhausted voice. “You won’t like what happens.”

Say what you would about the kid; she was quick when she was properly motivated. A matter of

moments later, after some yoga poses to get that plastic rack squeezed into a “blouse” that was two sizes too small, she was on her way, cheapie purse slung over her shoulder, her skyscraper stillies dangling from the ankle straps.

Trez didn’t say another word. Just followed in her wake to the door, opened the way out…and

shut the thing in her face as she turned around to say something.

He threw the lock manually.

iAm put his weapon away. “We need to move. This location is compromised.”

His brother was right. It wasn’t like they’d kept where they lived a big-ass secret, but staying at the Commodore was predicated on the idea that a security guard wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a

woman into someone’s place without the permission of the owners.

If that could happen once, it could happen again—

Abruptly, the pain intensified, like the volume on his cranial concert from hell had suddenly been

cranked.

“I’m going to go throw up for a while,” Trez mumbled as he wheeled away. “We’ll start packing

as soon as this migraine is over….”

He had no idea what iAm replied, or even if the guy did.

Fuck.

SIXTY-FOUR

Standing outside the training center’s examination room, Qhuinn had his hands in the pockets of

his leathers, his teeth locked tight, and his brows drawn all the way together.

Waiting. Waiting…

Medical shit was a lot like fighting, he decided: long periods of nothing doing, interjected

with bursts of life-or-death.

It was enough to stamp you certifiable.

He glanced over at the door. “How much longer do you think it will be?”

Across the way, Blay crossed and uncrossed his long legs. The guy had stretched out on the floor

about a half hour ago, but that had been his only concession to the wormhole of time they’d been

sucked into.

“It’s got to be winding down now,” he replied.

“Yeah. Only so many parts to a body, right.”

After a moment, Qhuinn focused on the other male properly. There were dark circles under Blay’s

eyes, and his cheeks had hollowed out. He was also paler than usual, his face far too light.

Qhuinn went over, leaned against the wall, and let his shitkickers slide out until his ass hit the

floor next to Blay’s.

Blay glanced up and smiled a little, then resumed staring at the tips of his boots.

Qhuinn watched as his own hand reached out and brushed his friend’s jaw. As Blay started and

looked over, Qhuinn was surprised to find he wanted to do so much more—and not sexually. He

wanted to draw the male across his lap and have Blay put his head down. He wanted to stroke those

strong shoulders and pass his fingers through that short red hair. He wanted to get some passerby to find a blanket and bring it over, so he could wrap some warmth around the powerful body that

seemed to have been weakened.

Qhuinn forced his eyes away and dropped his hand.

God, he felt so fucking…trapped. Even though there were no chains on him.

Glancing down, he double-checked his wrists. Ankles. Yup, totally free over here. Nothing

holding him back.

Closing his lids, he tilted his head back against the wall. In his mind, he was touching Blay—and

again, not sexually. Just feeling the vitality beneath the skin, the shift of the muscle, the solidity of the bone.

“I think you should go see Selena,” he said to the guy.

Blay exhaled as if he had someone sitting on his chest. “Yeah. I know.”

“We could go together,” Qhuinn heard himself volunteer.

He opened his eyes in time to see Blay’s head whip around.

“Or you could, you know, do it on your own.” Qhuinn cracked his knuckles. “Whatever you feel

comfortable with.”

Shit. In light of the whole Saxton thing, that might go too far. Feeding, after all, could be seen as more intimate than sex—

“Yeah,” Blay said softly. “I’ll do that.”

Qhuinn’s heart started to beat hard. And again, it wasn’t because he was all hopped to get it on

with the guy. He just wanted to…

Share
, he supposed was the right word.

No, wait. It went further than that. He wanted to take care of the male.

“You know, I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Qhuinn murmured. As Blay’s baby blues shot over,

he wanted to look away—the eye contact was almost too much. But then he thought of his brother in

that hospital bed—and all the ways people got robbed of time.

Jesus, he’d held so much in for so many reasons—all of which had seemed perfectly valid. But

how arrogant was that? That kind of reticence assumed he’d have the time to talk about stuff when he wanted. That the person he had in the back of his mind would always be around. That he himself

would be.

“For what?” Blay asked.

“For driving us home. Me and Luchas.” He heaved a great breath in and let it out slowly. “And

for sitting out here with me all night. For going to Payne and getting her to help. For backing me up on the field, and during training. Also, for all those beers and video games. The chips and the M&M’s.

The clothes I borrowed. The floor I slept on when I stayed over. Thanks for letting me hug your mom and talk with your dad. Thank you…for the ten thousand kind things you’ve done.”

From out of nowhere, he thought once again of that night when he’d walked in and witnessed his

father giving that gold signet ring to his brother.

“Thank you for calling that night,” he said gruffly.

Blay’s eyebrows shot up. “Which night?”

Qhuinn cleared his throat. “After Luchas went through his change, and my father gave him…you

know, the ring.” He shook his head. “I went up to my room and I was going to do something…yeah,

something really stupid. You called me. You came over. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

“It wasn’t the only time you did something like that.”

As Blay looked away, Qhuinn knew exactly where the guy’s mind had gone. Yup, that night hadn’t

been the only ledge he’d nearly jumped off of.

“I’ve said I was sorry,” Qhuinn intoned. “But I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you. So, yeah…

thank you.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he put his hand out, offering his palm. It seemed appropriate

to mark this moment, right here, right now, outside of his busted-to-fuck brother’s operating room, with some kind of solemn contact.

“Just…thank you.”

Unbelievable.

After what had felt like lifetimes with Qhuinn, Blay had thought that the surprises were finally

over. That the male couldn’t pull anything else that would leave him speechless.

Wrong.

Jesus…of all the imaginary conversations he’d had in his head with the guy, talks when he’d

pretended that Qhuinn opened up, or said something close to “the right thing,” it had never been about gratitude. But this…was exactly what he needed to hear, even though he hadn’t known that.

And that offered palm broke his damn heart.

Especially given that the male’s brother was on death’s door in the room across from them.

Blay didn’t shake the hand that was offered.

He reached over, took a hold of the fighter’s face, and drew Qhuinn in for a kiss.

It was supposed to be only a split-seconder—like their lips were the ones doing the handshake

thing. When he went to pull back, though, Qhuinn captured him, and held him in place. Their mouths

met again…and again…and once more, their heads tilting to the sides, the contact lingering.

“You’re welcome,” Blay said roughly. Then he smiled a little. “Can’t say it was all a pleasure,

though.”

Qhuinn laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine pants were definitely not fun.” The male got serious. “Why

the hell did you stay around?”

Blay opened his mouth, the truth on the tip of his tongue—

“Oh. Shit. Ah…’scuse me, boys, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Qhuinn jerked back so fast, he literally ripped his face out of Blay’s hold. Then he jumped up onto his feet and faced off with V, who’d come out of the OR. “No problem, nothing going on.”

As V’s expression registered a boatload of yeah-right, Qhuinn just looked at the Brother head-on,

like he was daring Vishous to have a different opinion than his own.

In the silence between the two males, Blay got up more slowly, and found that he was light-

headed, and not because he needed to feed.

No problem, nothing going on.

Sure as hell hadn’t felt that way for him. Buuuut once again, Qhuinn had snapped out of any

closeness, shied away, pulled back, unplugged.

Except come on. Bad time. Bad place. And V was the last person you wanted to go hearts-and-