Lover Awakened (Black Dagger Brotherhood #3)(20)

When the place was cleared out, Z approached the hole. Standing with his back to one of the guns that had been removed, so that he would have been in its line of fire, he nudged the cover off with the pole. A gunshot rang out with a popping sound.

Z caught the slug in his left calf. The searing impact brought him down on one knee, but he ignored it and dragged himself to the neck of the pipe. He took hold of the ropes that led down into the earth and began to pull.

The first thing he saw was her hair. Bella’s long, beautiful mahogany hair was all around her, a veil over her face and shoulders.

He sagged and lost his vision, partly passing out, but even through the full-body wobble, he kept pulling. Abruptly the effort became easier…because there were hands helping him…other hands on the rope, other hands laying her gently on the floor.

Dressed in a sheer nightgown that was stained with her blood, she wasn’t moving, but she was breathing. He carefully pushed her hair back from her face….

Zsadist’s blood pressure took a nosedive. “Oh, sweet Jesus…oh, sweet Jesus…oh, sweet—”

“What did they do…” Whoever had spoken couldn’t find the words to finish.

Throats cleared. A couple of coughs were smothered. Or maybe they were gags.

Z gathered her in his arms and just…hugged her. He had to get her out, but he couldn’t move for what had been done to her. Blinking, dizzy, screaming inside, he rocked her gently back and forth. Words fell from his mouth, lamentations for her in the Old Language.

Phury sank down to his knees. “Zsadist? We have to take her away from here.”

Focus came to Z in a rush, and suddenly all he could think about was moving her to the mansion. He sliced the harness off her torso, then struggled to his feet with her in his arms. When he tried to walk, his left leg gave out and he stumbled. For a split second he couldn’t think of why.

“Let me take her,” Phury said, putting out his hands. “You’ve been shot.”

Zsadist shook his head and brushed by his twin, limping.

He took Bella out to the Taurus that was still parked in front of the building. Holding her against his chest, he broke the driver’s-side window with his fist, then craned his arm inside and unlocked everything while the alarm went crazy. Opening the rear door, he leaned down and put her on the seat. When he bent her legs slightly to make them fit, the nightgown rode up and he winced. She had bruises. A lot of them.

As the alarm ran out of steam, he said, “Someone give me a jacket.”

The second he held his hand out behind him, leather hit his palm. He draped her carefully in what he realized was Phury’s coat, and then he shut her in and got behind the wheel.

The last thing he heard was a command from Wrath. “V, get out that hand of yours. This place needs to be torched.”

Reaching under the dash, Z hot-wired the sedan and sped from the scene like a bat out of hell.





O pulled his truck over to the curb on a dark section of Tenth Street. “I still don’t get why you lied.”

“If you got yourself sent home to the Omega, where would that leave us? You’re one of the strongest slayers we’ve got.”

O glanced over with distaste. “You’re such a company man, aren’t you?”

“I take pride in our work.”

“How nineteen-fifties, Howdy Doody of you.”

“Yeah, and that shit saved your ass, so be grateful.”

Whatever. He had better things to worry about than U’s gung ho pep rally crap.

He and U got out of the truck. ZeroSum and Screamer’s and Snuff’d were down a couple blocks, and though it was cold, there were lines waiting to get into the clubs. Some of the shivering masses were undoubtedly vampires, and even if they weren’t, the night would be busy. There were always fights with the Brothers to get down with.

O hit the security alarm, stuffed the keys into his pocket…and stopped dead in the middle of Tenth Street. He literally couldn’t move.

His wife…Jesus, his wife really hadn’t looked well when he’d left with U.

O grabbed the front of his black turtleneck, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care about the pain she was enduring; she’d brought that on herself. But he couldn’t bear it if she died, if she left him…. What if she was dying right now?

“What’s the matter?” U asked.

O fished around for the car keys, anxiety sizzling in his veins. “I’ve got to go.”

“You’re bailing? We missed quota last night—”

“I just have to go back to the center for a sec. L’s over on Fifth Street hunting. Hang with him. I’ll find you in thirty.”

O didn’t wait for an answer. He hopped in the truck and sped out of town, taking Route 22 through Caldwell’s rural sprawl. He was about fifteen minutes away from the persuasion center when he saw the flashing tangle of a cop car convention up ahead. He cursed and hit the brakes, hoping it was just an accident.

But no, in the intervening time since he’d left, the goddamned police had set up another one of their intoxication checkpoints. Two squad cars were parked on either side of Route 22, and orange cones and flares ran up the middle of the road. On the right, there was a reflective sign announcing the Caldwell Police Department’s Safety First program.