Rhage heaved the barbell up from his chest, teeth bared, body shaking, sweat pouring off him.
"That's ten," Butch called out
Rhage set the load back on the stand above him, hearing the thing groan as the weights rattled and fell still.
"Add another fifty."
Butch leaned over the bar. "You got five-twenty-five on there already, my man."
"And I
need
another fifty."
Hazel eyes narrowed. "Easy, Hollywood. You want to shred your pecs, that's your business. But don't take my head off."
"Sorry." He sat up and shook out his burning arms. It was nine in the morning, and he and the cop had been in the weight room since seven. There wasn't one part of his body that wasn't on fire, but quitting was a long way off. He was shooting for the kind of physical exhaustion that went into the bone.
"Are we there yet?" he muttered.
"Let me tighten the clamps. Okay, good to go."
Rhage laid back down, hoisted the barbell off the stand, and let it rest on his chest. He marshaled his breathing before pumping the weight.
Stray
. Dog.
Stray
. Dog.
Stray
. Dog.
He controlled the load until the last two reps, when Butch had to step in and spot.
"You finished?" Butch asked as he helped settle the bar on the stand.
Rhage sat up and panted, resting his forearms on his knees. "One more set of reps after this break."
Butch came around in front, twisting the shirt he'd taken off into a rope. Thanks to all the lifting they'd been doing, the male's chest and arm muscles were thickening up, and he hadn't been small to begin with. He couldn't pull the kind of iron Rhage did, but for a human, the guy was a bulldozer.
"You're getting into some kind of shape, cop."
"Aw, come on, now." Butch grinned. "Don't let that shower we took go to your head."
Rhage fired a towel at the male. "Just pointing out your beer gut's gone."
"It was a Scotch pot. And I don't miss it." Butch ran a hand over his six-pack. "Now, tell me something. Why are you beating the crap out of yourself this morning?"
"You have much interest in talking about Marissa?"
The human's face tightened up. "Not particularly."
"So you can understand if I don't have a lot to say."
Butch's dark brows rose. "You've got a woman? As in, one specific woman?"
"I thought we weren't talking about females."
The cop crossed his arms and frowned. Kind of like he was assessing a blackjack hand and trying to decide whether to take another hit from the dealer.
He spoke fast and hard. "I've got it bad for Marissa. She won't see me. That's it, the whole story. Now tell me about your nightmare."
Rhage had to smile. "The idea I'm not the only one on the skids is a relief."
"That tells me nothing. I want details."
"The female threw me out of her house early this morning after doing a job on my ego."
"What kind of hatchet did she use?" "An unflattering comparison between me and a free-agent canine."
"Ouch." Butch twisted the shirt in the other direction. "So naturally, you're dying to see her again."
"Pretty much."
"You're pathetic."
"I know."
"But I can almost beat that." The cop shook his head. "Last night, I… ah… I drove out to Marissa's brother's house. I don't even know how the Escalade got there. I mean, the last thing I need is to run into her, you feel me?"
"Let me guess. You waited around in hopes of catching a—"
"In the bushes, Rhage. I sat in the bushes. Under her bedroom window."
"Wow. That's…"
"Yeah. In my old life I could have arrested me for stalking. Look, maybe we should change the topic."
"Great idea. Finish the update about mat civilian male who escaped from the
lessers
."
Butch leaned back against the concrete wall, crossing one arm over his chest and pulling it into a stretch. "So Phury talked with the nurse who'd treated him. The guy was pretty well gone, but he managed to tell her that they were asking questions about you brothers. Where you live. How you get around. The victim didn't give a specific address where he'd been worked over, but it has to be somewhere downtown, because that's where he was found, and God knew he couldn't have gotten far. Oh, and he kept mumbling letters.
X. O. E
."
'That's how
lessers
refer to themselves."
"Catchy. Very 007." Butch went to work on his other arm, his shoulder cracking. "Anyway, I peeled a wallet off the
lesser
who'd been strung up in that tree, and Tohr went over to the guy's place. It had been cleaned out, like they knew he was gone."
"Was the jar there?"
'Tohr said no."
"Then they'd definitely been by."
"What's in those things anyway?"
"The heart."
"Nasty. But better than other parts of the anatomy, considering someone told me they can't get it up." Butch dropped his arms and sucked his teeth, a little thinking noise released from his mouth. "You know, all this is starting to make sense. Remember those dead prostitutes I investigated in the back alleys this summer? The ones with the bite marks on their necks and the heroin in their blood?" "Zsadist's girlfriends, man. It's the way he feeds. Humans only, although how he stays alive on that weak blood is a mystery."
"He said he didn't do it."
Rhage rolled his eyes. "And you think you can believe him?"
"But if we take him at his word— Hey, just humor me, Hollywood. If we believe him, then I have another explanation."
"What's that?"
"Bait. If you wanted to abduct a vampire, how do you do it? Put out food, man. Put it out, wait until one comes, drug them, and drag them wherever you want. I found darts at the scenes, like the kind you'd tranquilize an animal with."
"Jesus."
"And get this. I was listening to the police scanner this morning. Another prostitute was found dead in an alley, close to where the others were killed. I had V hack into the police server, and the online report noted that her throat had been slashed."
"You tell Wrath and Tohr all this?"
"No."
"You should."
The human shifted. "I don't know how much to get involved, you know? I mean, I don't want to stick my nose where it shouldn't be. I'm not one of you."
"But you belong with us. Or at least that's what V said."
Butch frowned. "He did?"
"Yeah. That's why we brought you here with us instead of… well, you know."
"Putting me in the ground?" The human cocked a half smile.
Rhage cleared his throat. "Not that any of us would have enjoyed that. Well, except for Z. Actually, no, he doesn't enjoy anything… The truth is, cop, you've kind of grown on—"
Tohrment's voice cut him off. "Jesus Christ, Hollywood!"
The male stalked into the weight room like a bull. And of all the Brotherhood, he was the levelheaded one. So something was on fire.
"What's up, my brother?" Rhage asked.
"Got a little message for you in the general mailbox. From that human. Mary." Tohr planted his hands on his hips, upper body jutting forward. "Why the hell does she remember you? And how does she have our number?"
"I didn't tell her how to call us."
"And you didn't scrub her memory, either. What the good goddamn are you thinking?"
"She's not going to be a problem."
"She already is. She's on our phone."
"Relax, man—"
Tohr jabbed a finger at him. "You fix her before I have to, you feel me?"
Rhage was off the bench and up his brother's face in the blink of an eye. "No one goes near her, not unless they want to deal with me. This includes you."
Tohr's navy-blue eyes narrowed. They both knew who was going to win if they got down to it. No one could take Rhage in hand-to-hand; it was a proven fact. And he was prepared to beat a no-touch commitment out of Tohrment if he had to. Right here, right now.
Tohr spoke in a grim tone. "I want you to take a deep breath and step off from me, Hollywood."
When Rhage didn't move, footsteps smacked across the mats and Butch's arm went around his waist.
"Why don't you cool off a little, big guy," Butch drawled. "Let's just break up this party, okay?"
Rhage allowed himself to get pulled back, but he kept his eyes on Tohr's. Tension crackled in the air.
"What's going on here?" Tohr demanded.
Rhage stepped free of Butch and paced around the weight room, winding in and out of the barbells on the floor and all the benches.
"Nothing. There's nothing going on. She doesn't know what I am and I don't know how she got the number. Maybe that civilian female gave it to her."
"Look at me, my brother. Rhage, stop where you are and look at me."
Rhage halted and shifted his eyes.
"Why didn't you scrub her? You know once their memories are long-term, you can't get them clean enough. Why didn't you do it when you had the chance?" As silence stretched out between them, Tohr shook his head. "Do
not
tell me you are getting involved with her."
"Whatever, man."
"I'll take that as a
yes
. Christ, my brother… what are you thinking? You know you shouldn't get tangled up with a human, and especially not with her because of the boy." Tohr's gaze sharpened. "I'm giving you an order. Again. I
want you to scrub yourself from that female's memories, and I don't want you to see her anymore."
"I told you, she doesn't know what I am—"
"Are you trying to negotiate with me on this? You can't be that stupid."
Rhage shot his brother a nasty look. "And you really don't want me up in your grille again. This time, I won't let the cop peel me off."
"You kiss her with that mouth of yours yet? Whatcha tell her about your fangs, Hollywood?" As Rhage closed his eyes and cursed, Tohr's tone eased up. "Be real. She's a complication we don't need, and she's trouble for you because you chose her over a command from me. I'm not doing this to bust your balls, Rhage. It's safer for everybody. Safer for her. You will do this, my brother."
Safer for her.
Rhage leaned down and grabbed his ankles. He stretched his hamstrings so hard, he nearly pulled them off the backs of his legs.
Safer for Mary.
"I'll take care of it," he said finally.
"Ms. Luce? Please come with me."
Mary looked up and didn't recognize the nurse. The woman seemed really young in her loose pink uniform, was probably right out of school. And she got younger as she smiled because of the dimples.
"Ms. Luce?" She shifted the voluminous file in her arms.
Mary put her purse strap on her shoulder, got to her feet, and followed the woman out of the waiting room. They went halfway down a long, buff-colored hall and paused in front of a check-in station.
"I'm just going to weigh you and take your temperature." The nurse smiled again and got even more points for being good with the scale and the thermometer. She was quick. Friendly.
"You've lost some weight, Ms. Luce," she said, while making a note in the file. "How's your eating?"
"The same."
"We're down here on the left."
The examination rooms were all alike. Framed Monet poster and a little window with drawn blinds. Desk with pamphlets and a computer. Exam table with a piece of white paper stretched over it. Sink area with various supplies. Red biohazard container in the corner.
Mary felt like throwing up. "Dr. Delia Croce said she wanted to take your vitals." The nurse handed over a neatly folded square of fabric. "If you'll put this on, she'll be right in."
The gowns were all the same, too. Thin, soft cotton, blue with a small pink pattern. There were two sets of ties. She was never sure whether she was putting the damn things on right, whether the slit should go in the front or the back. She chose the front today.
