Lover at Last (Black Dagger Brotherhood #11) - J.R. Ward Page 0,19

then proceeded to recite her number, which he didn’t bother to memorize.

The sad truth about women like her was that they were a dime a dozen: In this city of several million, there had to be a couple hundred thousand twenty-somethings with tight asses and loose legs who were looking for a good time. In fact, they were all just variations of the same person, which was why he needed to keep them fresh.

With so much in common, a revolving door of new supply was required to keep him interested.

Trez was out of the car a minute and a half later, and he didn’t bother scrubbing her memories. As a Shadow, he had many mind tricks he could call upon, but he’d stopped bothering with that years ago. Not worth the effort—and occasionally he did like a repeat.

Quick check of the watch.

Damn it, he was already going to be late getting over to iAm’s—but he clearly had to deal with the problem by the back door before he closed up shop.

As he went over and stopped in front of the woman, she tilted her chin up and put one hand on her hip. This particular version of ready-and-willing had blond hair extensions and liked hot pants as opposed to skirts—so she looked ridiculous in the cold, with her fluffy pink Patagonia parka and her bare-ass legs in the breeze.

Kind of like a Sno Ball on two toothpicks.

“Getting busy?” she demanded. She was obviously trying to keep cool, but given the way her stiletto was tapping, she was hot and bothered—and not in a good way.

“Hey, baby girl.” He called them all that. “You having a good night?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Listen, I’ll see you around—”

The woman made the colossal mistake of grabbing his arm as he went by her, her nails sinking into his silk shirt and clamping onto his skin.

Trez’s head snapped around, his eyes flaring. But at least he managed to catch himself before he bared his fangs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said, leaning into him.

“Trez!” someone barked.

Abruptly, his head of security’s voice cut into his brain. And good thing. Shadows were a peaceable species by nature—provided they were not aggressed upon.

As Xhex rushed over, like she knew murder was not one hundred percent out of the realm of possibility, he ripped his arm free of that hold, feeling five blazes of pain from the woman’s nails. Locking down his fury, he stared into the woman’s face. “Go on home now.”

“You owe me an explanation—”

He shook his head. “I’m not your boyfriend, baby girl.”

“Damn straight, he know how to treat a woman!”

“So go on home to him,” Trez said grimly.

“What do you do, fuck a different girl every night of the week?”

“Yeah. And sometimes twice on Sundays.” Shit, he should have scrubbed this one. When had he been with her? Two nights ago? Three? Too late now. “Go on home to your man.”

“You make me sick! You fucking cocksucking motherfucker—”

As Xhex stepped in between them and started speaking in a low voice to the hysteric, Trez was more than happy to have the backup…because what do you know, the chick in the Nissan picked that exact moment to K-turn in the parking lot and drive right on over.

Putting her window down, she smiled like she was into being the other woman. “I’ll see you soon, lover.”

Cue the crying: Baby girl with the pink parka, the boyfriend and the attachment disorder burst into a weeping jag worthy of a grave site.

Annnnnnnnd naturally that was when iAm showed up.

As his brother’s presence registered, Trez closed his eyes.

Great. Just fucking wonderful.

SEVEN

About ten blocks away from Trez’s bad-to-worse night, Xcor was wiping the blade of his scythe off with a chamois cloth that was soft as a lamb’s ear.

Across the alley, Throe was on his phone, talking in a low voice. He had been thus e’er since the third of the three lessers they’d found in this quadrant of the city had been discharged back to the Omega.

Xcor was not interested in any delay, cellular or otherwise. The rest of his Band of Bastards were elsewhere downtown, seeking out either or both of their two enemies—and he would prefer to be engaged thusly.

But biological needs must. Goddamn it.

Throe ended his call and looked over, his handsome face drawn in serious lines. “She is willing.”

“How kind of her.” Xcor sheathed his scythe and put his cleaning cloth away. “I am, however, less interested in her acquiescence than in the