Where Winter Finds You (Black Dagger Brotherhood #18)- J.R Ward Page 0,52
respond to that. He was already rounding the corner and descending the stairs with that gun front and center… and an expression like he was used to killing on his face.
As she heard him close the door at the bottom of the staircase and lock it, she wondered exactly how he was connected to the Brotherhood. She had a feeling it wasn’t just friends or drinking buddies.
He hadn’t been frightened in the slightest.
So clearly, he was well familiar with conflict of the deadly variety.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Trez made sure the door to the upstairs was locked before he moved on the intruder. He wasn’t risking his female’s life for anything, and that included even his own. Getting out his phone, he dialed V’s number.
One ring. Two rings…
As he waited for an answer, there was another series of knocking—and he was aware this was all his fault: His car was right there in the frickin’ driveway. Whoever the fuck it was knew someone was in here, and if they were looking for him—if this was a disgruntled pimp, a pissed-off dealer, or some Mob-connected guy with a hard-on about something that had happened at the club—then he’d led them right to this door.
And that was sloppy.
He couldn’t use that BMW anymore if his female was around—
As his call went into voice mail, someone clicked in on his other line. Taking the phone from his ear, he frowned. Accepted the call.
“Fritz?” he said.
The doggen’s cheerful voice came through in two places: in his ear, and on the other side of the door.
“Greetings, sire! Please excuse the interruption, I was endeavoring to get to your rental prior to your arrival. But I had to go to two places for the proper meat.”
Trez blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Meat, sire.” There was a pause. “Forgive me, but might I enter the premises with your victuals?”
Shaking himself, Trez took two steps forward and opened the front door. There, on the other side, was the ancient butler holding four paper bags by the handles. That wrinkled face beamed.
“You’re looking well, sire! And I shall not take long.”
Fritz brushed by and headed for the kitchen, undisturbed in the slightest by the fact that Trez had a gun in his hand and had been considering the idea of shooting through the door.
Shaking his head, Trez reflected that there were benefits to staff who had been with the Brothers a long time. Short of an H-bomb going off in the living room, little bothered them.
Trez lamely closed the door. “You didn’t have to do this.”
It was as close as he could get to what he really wanted to say.
Which was something along the lines of SHE WAS ABOUT TO TURN AROUND IN FRONT OF THE FIRE, FRITZ. TURN AROUND. IN FRONT OF THE FIRE! DO YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT FOOD RIGHT NOW?!?!?!
Hell, on that note, someone could come and take at least one of his legs—maybe both—and he wouldn’t argue with the body-part burglary as long as it got whoever it was the fuck out of this house. And he would have called upstairs and reported that all was well, but he didn’t want his female to feel compromised.
“Listen, Fritz,” he said as he walked through into the kitchen. “It’s cool. I can put everything away.”
Of course, that would be after he went back upstairs and checked on the fire—or rather the mostly naked female standing in front of said combustion.
“But the milk needs to be refrigerated.” Fritz pivoted and opened the GE’s door. “And the meat. And the ice cream.”
Okay, so Trez didn’t care if the milk curdled, the meat spoiled, and that ice cream drooled out of its container.
“As I was saying,” Fritz continued on happily, “I had to go to two stores. The big Hannaford’s steak offerings were not to my liking. I called my butcher.”
At least the doggen was working fast, going back and forth to the fridge, the cupboards, those bags.
“Wait, it’s almost midnight,” Trez said. “You woke the guy up? I’m assuming your butcher’s a human.”
“Oh, you know him. Vinnie Giuffrida provides unto the restaurant Sal’s, as well.”
“Yeah, Vinnie you could definitely wake up. iAm swears by him.”
“Indeed, he took care of us.” With triumph, the butler produced a paper-wrapped bundle and then popped it into the fridge. “And now I am finished here.”
Except Fritz just started to fold the paper bags. Like they were origami sheets. And he was trying to re-create the continental United States out of only one of them.