The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood #13) - J. R. Ward Page 0,42

if I bring back something worth having.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Rehv leaned down, offering his dagger hand. “Anything I got is yours.”

Trez had to blink hard. Then pass his hand over his eyes. “Your friendship’s all I need, my man. ’Cuz it’s pretty damn priceless.”

As iAm walked out of the men’s locker room, he checked to make sure the buttons on his shirt had been done up properly. The shower lasted only five minutes, tops, but the water had been ice-cold, and he guessed he felt a little more with it.

Hard to tell with all the brain fry he had going on.

He stopped as he looked up and saw Trez and Rehv linked by their palms. For some reason, the quiet moment between the males took him back to the night Trez had escaped.

So strange the paths that crossed when you least expected it.

Rehv glanced over as the pair released their grips. “Hey, iAm.”

“Hey, man.”

Like they were at some kind of funeral, the two of them met in the middle and did the backslapper embrace guys rocked when there were too many feels in the air. A moment later, Rehv left without a backward glance, striding down to the office, his floor-length mink billowing out behind him, his red cane plugging into the floor to keep his balance.

“Glad he showed,” iAm said as he glanced at the shut door of the exam room. Guess they were still cleaning Selena up.

What a fucking night. Day. Whatever it was.

“Yeah.”

iAm checked his watch. Well, whaddaya know. It was eight p.m. After sundown. They’d been here for, like, over twelve hours straight.

“So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

iAm dropped his arm and looked at his brother. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, man.” Trez let out an exhausted curse. “You think I can’t read you? Really?”

iAm paced down a couple of yards. Came back. Went down again.

“More good news, huh,” Trez muttered.

“Yeah.”

“Get it off your chest. At least one of us will feel better.”

“Doubt it.”

“Like shit can get worse?”

“The Queen gave birth.”

“And.”

“Not it.”

Trez closed his eyes and seemed to sag in his own skin. “Unbelievable timing.”

“It’s why s’Ex was calling you. He tracked me down when you didn’t answer and, yeah, there you go.”

Trez blew out his breath. “You know what my fantasy is? It ain’t porn. It’s good news. For once in my fucking life, I’d love to have some good news.”

“They’re in mourning.” When Trez just shook his head, iAm felt like hell all over again. “We have a week, and then…”

“Then they’re going to want their living, breathing dildo back, huh.”

As Trez focused on the closed door of the exam room, he appeared to age before iAm’s eyes, the skin of his face seeming to melt from the bone structure underneath, the corners of his eyes dragging down, his mouth going lax.

“Trez—”

“Tell s’Ex I want to meet with him. I can’t leave now because of…”

“You’re not actually thinking of going back, are you.”

Trez’s stare didn’t leave that closed door.

“Trez. Answer me. You’re not thinking about going back.”

As the silence stretched out, iAm cursed. “Trez? Hello?”

“I’ve got to meet with s’Ex. But it has to be after…” Trez cleared his throat. “Yeah. Afterward.”

iAm nodded because what else could he do? There was no blaming the guy for that kind of prioritization.

Unfortunately, the s’Hisbe was not going to be so understanding. But that was where iAm came in. No way anyone was muscling his brother while this shit with Selena was going on.

He didn’t care what he had to do: Trez was going to be free to care for his female.

Fuck the Queen.

FOURTEEN

Layla felt pursued as she kept a foot on the gas and both hands on the steering wheel of her pale blue Mercedes. Qhuinn bought her the E350 4matic, whatever that meant, about three months ago. He’d wanted something flashier, bigger, faster, but in the end, the little sedan was what she’d felt most comfortable with. And she’d picked the color because it reminded her of the bathing pools up in the Sanctuary.

The farmland on Caldwell’s outskirts rolled out over hill and dale, and she loved these gracious undulating fields that spiked up with corn in July and August, and were shorn down like a male’s beard in the fallow months. She knew all of the landscape by heart now, this route well taken out to one specific rise, one particular meadow, one now-significant tree.

When she came to the base of the short hill, she cut