Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(19)

“Was it her?” he croaked, kneeling down.

Z lurched backward, just barely managing to keep his gun out of the snow. He couldn’t be anywhere near someone right now, especially Phury.

In a messy scramble, he got to his feet. “Vishous here yet?”

“Right behind you, my brother,” V whispered.

“There’s…” He cleared his throat. Rubbed his face on his forearm. “There’s a security alarm. I think the place is clear, because two slayers just left, but I’m not sure.”

“I’m on the alarm.”

Z caught a number of scents all of a sudden and glanced behind him. The whole of the Brotherhood was there, even Wrath, who as king was not supposed to be in the field. They were all armed. They had all come to get her back.

The group lined up flat against the house as V used a pick on the door lock. His Glock went in first. When there was no reaction, he slipped inside and closed himself in. A moment later there was one long beep. He opened the door.

“Good to go.”

Z rushed forward, practically mowing down the male.

His eyes penetrated the dim corners of the single room. The place was a mess, with shit scattered all over the floor. Clothes…knives and handcuffs and…shampoo bottles? And what the f*ck was that? God, a disemboweled first-aid kit, its gauze and tape bleeding out of the ruined lid. The thing looked like it had been stomped on until it had opened.

Heart pounding in his chest, sweat blooming all over him, he looked for Bella and saw only inanimate objects: A wall of shelving that held nightmarish instruments. A cot. A fireproof metal closet the size of a car. An autopsy table with four sets of steel chains hanging off its corners…and blood smudged on its smooth surface.

Random thoughts fired through Z’s brain. She was dead. That burned oval proved it. Except what if that had just been another captive? What if she’d been moved or something?

As his brothers hung back, like they knew better than to get in his way, Z went over to the fireproof closet, keeping his gun in hand. He wrenched the doors off, just grabbed onto the metal panels and bent them until the hinges broke. He tossed the heavy sections away, hearing them clatter and bang.

Guns. Ammunition. Plastic explosives.

The arsenal of their enemies.

He went into the bathroom. Nothing but a stall shower and a bucket with a toilet seat on it.

“She’s not here, my brother,” Phury said.

In a fit of rage Z launched himself at the autopsy table, picking it up with one hand and throwing it into a wall. In midflight, a length of chain came back at him, catching him in the shoulder, nailing him to the bone.

And then he heard it. A soft whimpering sound.

His head snapped around to the left.

In the corner, on the ground, there were three cylindrical metal lips protruding from the earth, and they were capped by mesh plates that were the dark brown color of the dirt floor. Which explained why he hadn’t noticed them.

He went over and kicked off one of the covers. The whimpering got louder.

Suddenly light-headed, he fell to his knees. “Bella?”

Gibberish rose from the earth to answer him, and he dropped his gun. How was he going to…? Ropes—there were ropes coming out of what looked like a sewer pipe. He grabbed onto them and pulled gently.

What emerged was a dirty, bloody male, about ten years out of his transition. The civilian was naked and shivering, his lips blue, his eyes rolling around.

Z dragged him free, and Rhage wrapped his leather trench coat around the male.

“Get him out of here,” someone said as Hollywood sliced the ropes.

“Can you dematerialize?” another brother asked the male.

Z paid no attention to the conversation. He went for the next hole, but there were no ropes leading down into it, and his nose detected no scent. The thing was empty.

He was stepping over to the third when the captive yelled, “No! Th-that one’s booby-trapped!”

Z froze. “How?”

Through chattering teeth, the civilian said, “I d-don’t know. I just heard the l-lesser warn one of his m-men about it.”

Before Z could ask, Rhage started walking the room. “Got a gun over here. Business end pointed in that direction.” There were the sounds of metal clicks and shifting. “It’s not armed. Anymore.”

Z looked above the hole. Mounted on the exposed rafters of the roof, about fifteen feet from the floor, there was a small device. “V, what have we got up there?”

“Laser eye. You break it, it probably triggers the—”

“Hold up,” Rhage said. “I got another gun to empty out here.”

V stroked his goatee. “There must be a remote-control activator, although the guy probably took it with him. That’s what I would do.” He squinted up at the ceiling. “That particular model runs on lithium batteries. So it’s not like we could kill the generator to turn it off. And they’re tricky to disarm.”

Z glanced around for something he could use to push the plate off and thought of the bathroom. He went inside, whipped the shower curtain down, and brought the pole it had hung from back.

“Everyone clear out.”

Rhage spoke sharply. “Z, man, I don’t know that I’ve found all the—”

“Take the civilian with you.” When no one moved, he cursed. “We don’t have time to f*ck around, and if someone’s getting shot it’s going to be me. Jesus Christ, will you brothers leave?”