from the window as she disappeared down their street.
His older sister. Janie.
Her body had been found in the woods behind the local baseball field the following morning. She'd been raped, beaten, and strangled. Not in that order.
After she'd been abducted, Butch had stopped sleeping through the night. Two decades later, he still hadn't picked up the habit again.
He thought of Beth, looking over her shoulder as she'd run away with the suspect. The fact she'd disappeared with that killer was the only thing that got Butch to plant his feet on the ground and drag his body toward the station.
“Yo! O'Neal!” José came pounding down the alley. “What happened to you?”
“We need to get out an APB.” Was that his voice? It sounded hoarse, like he'd been to a football game and screamed for two hours. “White male, six-six, two seventy. Dressed in black leather, wearing sunglasses, shoulder-length dark hair.” Butch threw out a hand, steadying himself against the building. “Suspect not armed. Only because I stripped him. He'll be restocked within the hour, no doubt.”
When he stepped forward, he swayed.
“Jesus.” José grabbed his arm, holding him up.
Butch tried not to lean on the guy, but he needed the help. He couldn't make his legs move right.
“And a white female.” His voice cracked. “Five-nine, long black hair. Wearing a blue skirt and a white button-down.” He paused. “Beth.”
“I know. She called.” Jose's face tightened. “I didn't ask for details. From the sound of her voice, she wasn't about to give me any.”
Butch's knees wobbled.
“Whoa, Detective.” José hoisted him up. “We're going to take this slow.”
The instant they came through the station's back door, Butch weaved. “I need to go look for her.”
“Let's just chill on this bench.”
“No…”
José loosened his hold, and Butch went down like a piano.
Just as half the freaking precinct came up in a rush. The fleet of concerned guys in dark blue and badges made him feel pathetic.
“I'm fine,” he snapped. Then he had to put his head between his knees.
How could he have let this happen?
If Beth turned up dead in the morning…
“Detective?” José got down on his haunches, putting his face in Butch's line of sight. “We've called an ambulance.”
“Don't need one. Is the APB out?”
“Yeah, Ricky's doing it right now.”
Butch brought his head up. Slowly.
“Man, what happened to your neck?” José breathed.
“It was used to hold my body off the ground.” He swallowed a couple of times. “Did the weapons get picked up from the address I called in?”
“Yeah. We got 'em and the cash. Who the hell is this guy?”
“I have no fucking clue.”
Black Dagger Brotherhood 1 - Dark Lover
Chapter Seventeen
Wrath walked up the front steps of Darius's house. The door swung open before he could reach the brass handle.
Fritz was on the other side. “Master, I didn't know you were—”
The doggen froze as he saw Beth.
Yeah, you know who she is , Wrath thought. But let's be cool.
She was jumpy enough as it was.
“Fritz, I'd like you to meet Beth Randall.” The butler kept staring. “You going to let us in?”
Fritz bent down low and bowed his head. “Of course, master. Ms. Randall, it is an honor to finally meet you in person.”
Beth seemed taken aback, but managed a smile as the doggen straightened and moved from the doorway.
When she stuck her hand out, Fritz gasped and looked to Wrath for permission.
“Go ahead,” Wrath muttered as he shut the front door. He never could understand the strict traditions of the doggens.
Fritz reached out reverently, clasping her palm in both of his and dropping his forehead to their joined hands. Words in the old language were spoken in a quiet rush.
Beth was clearly astonished. But then she had no way of knowing that by offering her hand to him, she had paid him the highest honor of his species. As the daughter of a princeps, she was a high-bred aristocrat in their world.
Fritz was going to be glowing for days.
“We'll be in my chamber,” Wrath said when the contact was broken.
The doggen hesitated. “Master, Rhage is here. He had a… little accident.”
Wrath cursed. “Where is he?”
“In the downstairs bathroom.”
“Needle and thread?”
“In there with him.”
“Who's Rhage?” Beth asked as they started down the hall.
Wrath paused by the drawing room. “You wait here.”
But she followed when he walked on.
He turned around, pointing over her shoulder. “That wasn't a request.”
“And I'm not waiting anywhere.”
“Damn it, do as I say.”
“No.” The word was spoken without heat. She defied him with total calmness and strength of purpose.
As if