Blood Truth (Black Dagger Legacy #4) - J.R. Ward Page 0,154

Do you have someone who can come and get you?”

Rochelle frowned. “I really can’t bear the thought of going home—”

“You can stay,” Boone said. “With us.”

“Yes,” Helania added. “Please. In fact . . . can we all just stay here for the day? The storm is terrible and my apartment is small.”

“Sure,” Boone offered. “Doesn’t matter to me where we are, as long as we’re together.”

“Thank you.” Rochelle lifted her hands and started pulling pins out of her hair one by one. “That would be . . . thank you.”

As she shook her chignon out, took her high-heeled boots off, and repositioned herself with her stocking feet tucked under her, Butch smiled. Nothing like letting your hair down with family who happened to be friends, he thought.

He’d learned that one firsthand.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re going to remove the body now. I want you guys to stay here, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem,” Boone said as the females nodded.

“And listen, I’m going to get in touch with Mai’s parents before the end of tonight. I’ll go to their house in person. They’re going to want to know what happened.”

“Of course,” Rochelle said. “That’s very good of you. And please feel free to be completely honest. I have nothing to hide, not anymore.”

“You got it.” Butch then hesitated as he looked at Boone. “You know this house is yours now, right?”

“What?” the male said in surprise.

“Marquist is dead. You’re your sire’s living next of kin. It’s all yours. I know it’s not the time to think about it right now, but the law is the law. It is what it is.” Butch waved a dismissive hand in the air. “But like I said, that’s nothing to think about right now. Don’t even know why I felt the need to say something about it.”

That last one was bullshit, of course. The bottom line was the kid had been never been anything but perfectly loyal and an all-around stand-up male. And meanwhile, he’d been royally screwed over by his sire and by that butler—and sometimes, fuck it.

You just wanted the good guy to win in the end.

“Call me if you need me,” Butch said to them.

Pivoting away, he was striding out of the room when something caught his arm. As he turned around, it was Helania.

“Your sister is really proud of you right now,” she whispered. “You’ve helped give yet another group of people a measure of comfort and the kind of resolution they need to move on.”

Butch’s breath caught. And he didn’t know what to say in return. But that didn’t matter. Helania wrapped him up in a hard hug, and sometimes that communicated everything, didn’t it.

As he lowered his head and embraced her in return, he felt, deep inside his chest, the lingering pain he always carried with him . . . lift a little more.

This one was for you, Janie, he thought to himself.

Then again, every killer he’d ever found had always been for her.

* * *

As Boone watched Helania and Butch hug, he was reeling from what the Brother had said about the will. But he supposed Butch was right. With Marquist dead and no other beneficiary named . . . he was the next of kin.

Getting to his feet, he made like he’d gone vertical just to stretch his back, but that wasn’t why he’d stood up. He was looking around the parlor with new eyes and had the sense that he was trying on for size the idea of staying put.

Except that was crazy. He didn’t want any part of this glymera bullshit. He hadn’t been a fan of it before, but after what Rochelle and Helania had been through? He was so not interested—

Through the archway, he saw the staff of the house still clustered together in the foyer, Thomat and the dozen or so doggen standing in that clutch they’d formed. And they were all looking at him. They had clearly heard what Butch had said.

Because there was hope in their faces.

Loyalty . . . for Boone . . . in their eyes.

“I think they want you to stay,” Rochelle said softly.

As Helania came over to him, he opened his arms, and she eased right up against him. They stayed there as Marquist’s remains were removed, the big front door opening, the storm’s gusts sweeping in and replacing the warmth with cold. But then the Brothers said goodbye, and Boone watched through the parlor window as the surgical van pulled away and proceeded out the drive.

In

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