When John looked over with surprise, the man nodded. "Yeah, when I was on the police force. I was a homicide detective for ten years, and in homicide you see some pretty f'ed up stuff. There was always some deeply sincere guy with granny glasses and a steno pad bugging me to talk. I hated it."
John took a deep breath, oddly reassured that the guy hadn't liked the experience any more than he was going to.
"But the funny thing was..." Butch came to a stop sign and hit a directional signal. A second later he shot out into traffic. "The funny thing was... I think it helped. Not when I was sitting across from Dr. Earnest, the share-your-feelings superhero. Frankly, I wanted to bolt the entire time, my skin crawled so bad. It was just...
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afterward, I'd think about what we'd talked about. And, you know, he had some valid points. It kind of cooled me out, even though I'd thought I was fine. So it was all good."
John cocked his head to one side.
"What did I see?" Butch murmured. The man was silent for a long time. It wasn't until they pulled into another very ritzy neighborhood that he answered. "Nothing special, son. Nothing special."
Butch turned into a driveway, stopped at a pair of gates, and put down the window. After he hit an intercom button and said his name, they were allowed to pass.
When the Escalade was parked behind a stuccoed mansion the size of a high school, John opened his door. As he met Butch on the other side of the SUV, he realized the guy had taken out a handgun: The thing was in his grip and hanging by his thigh, barely noticeable.
John had seen this trick before. Phury had armed himself in a similar way when the two of them had gone to the clinic a couple of nights ago. Weren't the Brothers safe here?
John looked around. Everything seemed really normal, for a big-money estate.
Maybe the Brothers weren't safe anywhere.
Butch took John's arm and walked quickly to a solid-steel door, all the while scanning the ten-car garage behind the house, the oak trees on the periphery, the two other cars parked by what looked like a kitchen entrance. John jogged to keep up.
When they were at the back door Butch showed his face to a camera, and the steel panels in front of them made a clicking noise, then slid back. They went into a vestibule, the doors closed behind them, and then a freight elevator opened up. They took it down one level and stepped out.
Standing in front of them was a nurse John recognized from before. As she smiled and welcomed them, Butch put the handgun away in a holster under his left arm.
The nurse swept her hand toward a hallway. "Petrilla is waiting."
Squeezing his notebook, John took a deep breath and followed the woman, feeling as if he were going to the gallows.
Z stopped in front of his bedroom door. He was just going to check on Bella and then he was going to make a beeline for Phury's room and get himself good and stoned. He hated any kind of drugged-out feeling, but anything was better than this raging urge to have sex.
He cracked the door and sagged against the jamb. The fragrance in the room was like a garden in full bloom, the loveliest thing that had ever shot up the inside of his nose.
The front of his pants pounded, the it screaming to get out.
"Bella?" he said into the darkness.
When he heard a moan, he went inside, closing the door behind him.
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Oh, God. The perfume of her... He started to growl deep in the back of his throat, and his fingers cranked into claws. His feet took over, marching him to the bed, his instincts leaving his mind behind.
Bella was writhing on top of the mattress, tangled in the sheets. When she saw him she cried out, but then she settled down, as if she'd willed herself calm.
"I'm okay." She rolled over onto her stomach, her thighs rubbing together as she pulled the duvet over her body. "I'm... really... It's going to be-"
Another shock wave came out of her, so strong it pushed him back as she jackknifed into a ball.
"Go," she groaned. "Worse... when you're here. Oh... God..."
As she let out a ragged curse, Z stumbled back to the door even though his body roared