Butch released his roommate and tugged his jacket down. “Probably right. Feeling a little loozy. Loser. Loosing? Goosing. Gosling, Ryan, not Reynolds. What was the question?”
By way of answer, Vishous started walking him to the billiard room, but that was a no go. Butch protested by throwing out his anchor.
“No, I’m going to get Marissa.”
“I told you, it’s not time.”
“I’ll sit and waiting. Wait. For four. For her—”
“I’m not letting you drive drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” Butch stopped as he heard the slur in his words. Holding his forefinger up, he changed tactics. “I’m getting sober up. By the minute.”
“Then you better chill here for about ten hours.”
Determined to win the argument, Butch explained, calmly and concisely, how he didn’t need that much time, and then capped that theory of relativity off with another move to the big-ass door—which would lead him out through the vestibule, which would let him get to the R8, which was parked in the courtyard, which would give him the wheels he needed to go down off the mountain and go into town and find Safe Place’s neighborhood—
“Butch. I’m not letting you drive a car like this.”
V leaned back against the vestibule’s door—which was kind of a surprise. Last time Butch noticed, the guy was standing with his back to the archway into the billiard room. Guess they’d moved.
Whatever. Butch opened his mouth—
“You argue about this anymore and I’m going to give you a nap.”
“I don’t need a nap.” Butch cleared his throat so he didn’t sound like a five-year-old. “I need to go be with Marissa.”
As the name of his shellan came out of his mouth, he had to fight the emotions in his chest. Had to fight the shit in his brain, too. Something about confronting the Omega had hinged him loose in ways he didn’t seem to be coming out of well—but at least he knew the solution. He was going to go be with his female. Even if all he could do was sit in a parked car outside of her work for four hours, six hours, before she got off, that would be enough.
He was untethered. She was his harbor. So the math was obvious—
“No,” his roommate said. “Not when you’re this drunk.”
“Will you drive me then?”
“You need to stay home. That was way too close with the evil, Butch. I need you to stay in the mhis for right now.”
“What are you talking about?” Butch snatched the tumbler back and took a gulp. And the fact that he felt absolutely no burn in his throat at all should have been a red flag concerning his current level of intoxication. But fuck it. “I’m not a prisoner here.”
“Just until we can get a team around you.”
“A team? Fuck that. I’m—”
“The Omega came out to find you tonight, Butch. Unless you forgot what magically appeared in front of you in that alley?”
“It didn’t come for me.” As V shot him a yeah-right, Butch shook his head. “The Fore-lesser was standing right beside it. The evil came for its subordinate, not for me. It was just a coincidence I was there.”
Butch took another draw on the glass, and as he reflected on the way he’d corrected his roommate’s version of events, he congratulated himself on speaking so much better. Not that he had been bad at it before, no matter what V had said.
“It was after you, Butch.” V shook his head. “And if the Fore-lesser was there, it was because it was working to get to you, too. The pair are always aligned, that’s the way it works.”
“Don’t talk to me like I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
“I am perfectly fucking fine. Now get out of my way.”
Things got a little wonky at that point and Butch wasn’t exactly sure about the sequence of events. The outcome was clear. When he tried to force his way out of the vestibule so he could get behind the wheel, V ended up taking the glass away for a second time. And then he seemed to look apologetic.
“I’m sorry about this, cop.”
“Sorry about what—”
The right hook came sailing through the air with the greatest of ease. And as it hit Butch solidly in the jaw, kicking his head back like a baseball struck for the stands, he had a thought that he didn’t feel a thing.
In fact, he went on a nice little float, during which the entire mansion, in spite of its size, weight, and foundation,