The Beast (Black Dagger Brotherhood #14) - J. R. Ward Page 0,186

lay out your clothes.”

“You’re right. Plus every time I think about where I’m going I want to throw up.”

They went their separate ways in the middle of the room, he to a cleanly shaven jaw and freshly shampooed hair, she to the walk-in closet, where—

The scream that emanated from the loo was enough to give her a frickin’ heart attack. “Rhage! Rhage—what’s wrong!”

She blasted across the carpet and into the—only to slam against his backside.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” he barked.

“What, what are you…”

Mary started laughing, and she got on such a roll with it, she had to sit down on the edge of the Jacuzzi.

Someone, or someones, more like it, had Little Mermaided their bathroom: There were Little Mermaid towels hanging on all the hooks and rods, a Little Mermaid rug in front of the double sinks … Little Mermaid cups and toothbrushes and kids’ toothpaste on the counters … Little Mermaid shampoo and conditioner in the shower … action figures lined up on the lip around the tub and down the sill of the big window that looked out over the gardens.

But the pièce de résistance was undoubtedly the wall stuff. About a hundred and fifty different stickers, posters, clings, and cut-outs from coloring books had been stuck, glued, or pinned to every square inch of vertical surface.

Rhage wheeled around and went to march out—but he didn’t have to go far at all. A gathering of his Brothers filed into their suite, the males high-fiving one another and smacking Rhage on the ass.

“I’m going to get you back,” he growled. “Every single one of you—especially you, Lassiter, you fuck stick.”

“How?” the fallen angel countered. “By flooding my room? You already tried that with the pantry and Fritz got it fixed in a night.”

“No, I’m going to hide every cocksucking remote in this house.”

The angel froze. “Okay, those are fighting words.”

“Blam!” Rhage yelled as he hit his hips. “Wassup, bitch.”

Lassiter started looking to the Brothers for help. “That’s not funny. That shit is so not funny—”

“Hey, Hollywood, can I pay you to hide those?” someone said.

“We can still get access to them, though, right?” somebody else demanded.

“Fuck all y’all, for real,” Lassiter muttered. “I’m serious. One of these days, you are gonna respect me…”

Mary just leaned into her arms and smiled at the bunch of crazies: In a way, this was exactly what Rhage needed, a little steam-blow-off on his way to the coffee shop. Heck, on that theory, they all deserved to release some tension.

It had been a heavy-duty couple of hours.

Fucking Little Mermaid, Rhage thought when he left their bedroom twenty-five minutes later.

Shutting the door, he retucked his already tucked-in shirt and pulled on the jacket Mary had picked out for him to hide his guns. As he walked down the hall, he fiddled with his hair, rolled his shoulders, tugged at his belt.

His palms were sweaty. How the hell was he going to shake the social worker’s hand if he was sweating this bad? She was going to have use a napkin to dry off.

Or a set of drapes.

Coming up to Wrath’s study, he saw that the doors were open and he paused, wondering if now would be a good time to tell his brother and his King what the hell they were up to. When he looked around the jamb, though, he got an eyeful of Wrath and V talking together, the King on the throne, the brother right next to him, crouching on the floor. Their heads were together, their voices low, the air so thick there might as well have been mhis around them.

What the fuck was going on, Rhage thought as he was tempted to go inside.

But then he checked his gold Rolex, the one that he’d given Mary, but which she’d insisted he wear for good luck. No time to ask, and on that note, no time to go into the whole Bitty thing, either.

Later, he decided.

Hitting the stairwell, he bottomed out on the mosaic floor and beelined for the exit.

“Good luck.”

Rhage pulled up short and looked to the right. Lassiter was in the billiards room, bluing up a cue.

“What are you talking about?” Rhage demanded.

As the angel just shrugged, Rhage shook his head. “You’re crazy—”

“When she asks about how the father died, don’t fudge it. She already knows it was you and your brothers who killed him. It’s in the file. She hates the violence, but she knows that the two of them wouldn’t have survived otherwise. She wants you