Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(28)

So that was the deal, huh. “You want to get into the ring with me, you arrange it over there.” He pointed to the money man.

“Not after that either.”

Van turned around, thinking the twenty-questions thing was for shit. “So what do you want?”

“First I have to know why you stopped.”

“He was down.”

Annoyance flashed over the guy’s face. “So.”

“You know what? You’re beginning to piss me off.”

“Fine. I’m looking for a man who fits your description.”

Oh, that narrowed the field. Busted nose in a regular joe face with a military haircut. Snooze. “Lotta men look like me.”

Well, except for his right hand.

“Tell me something,” the guy asked, “did you have your appendix removed?”

Van narrowed his eyes and put his truck’s keys back in his pocket. “One of two things are about to happen and you get to pick. You walk away and I get into my ride. Or you keep talking and shit goes down. Your choice.”

The pale man got in close. Jesus, he smelled funny. Like…baby powder?

“Don’t threaten me, boy.” The voice was low and the body that backed up the words was coiled for action.

Well, well, well…what do you know. A real contender.

Van pushed his face even closer. “Then get to your f*cking point.”

“Appendix?”

“Not anymore.”

The man smiled. Eased back. “How would you like a job?”

“I have one. And this.”

“Construction. Knocking strangers around for cash.”

“Honest work, both of them. And just how long have you been nosing around my biz?”

“Long enough.” The guy stuck out his hand. “Joseph Xavier.”

Van let that palm hang out there. “Not interested in meeting you, Joe.”

“That’s Mr. Xavier to you, son. And surely you wouldn’t mind listening to a proposition.”

Van cocked his head to the side. “You know something, I’m a lot like a whore. I like to get paid by jerkoffs. So how about you palm me a benji, Joe, then we’ll see about your proposition.”

As the man just stared, Van felt an unexpected shot of fear. Man, something about this guy was not right.

The bastard’s voice was even lower as he spoke. “Say my name properly first, son.”

Whatever. For a hundred bucks, he’d flap his gums even for a freak like this. “Xavier.”

“That’s Mr. Xavier.” The guy smiled like a predator, all teeth, no jolly. “Say it, son.”

Some unknown impulse had Van opening his mouth.

Right before he let the words fly, he had a vivid memory of when he’d been sixteen years old and had taken a dive into the Hudson River. In midair, he’d seen the massive underwater stone he was going to hit and knew there would be no change in course. Sure enough, his head had made contact as if the collision had been preordained, as if there had been an invisible string around his neck and the rock had pulled him home. But it hadn’t been a bad thing, at least not right away. Immediately after the crack of impact, there had been a floating, a sweet, satisfied calm, as if destiny had been fulfilled. And he’d known instinctively that the sensation was a forerunner of death.

Funny, he had that same spacy disorientation now. And the same sense that this man with the paper-white skin was like death: inevitable and fated—and coming specifically for him.

“Mr. Xavier,” Van whispered.

When the hundred-dollar bill appeared in front of him, he reached forward with his four-fingered hand and took it.

But he knew he would have listened without the cash.



Hours later, Butch rolled over and the first thing he did was look for Marissa.

He found her sitting in the corner of the room, a book open next to her. Her eyes weren’t on the pages, though. She was staring at the pale linoleum tiles, tracing the pattern of flecks with one long, perfect finger.

She looked achingly sad and so beautiful that his eyes stung. God, the idea he could infect her or endanger her in any way made him want to slit his own throat.

“I wish you hadn’t come in here,” he croaked. As she winced, he thought about his choice of words. “What I mean is—”

“I know what you mean.” Her voice hardened. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” He struggled to push himself up. “But I’d really like a shower.”

She got to her feet, rising like mist she was so graceful, and his breath caught as she walked to him. Man, that pale blue dress was the exact color of her eyes.

“Let me help you to the bath.”

“No, I can do it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you try to get to the bathroom on your own, you will fall and you will hurt yourself.”

“Call a nurse, then. I don’t want you to touch me.”

She stared at him for a moment. Then blinked her eyes once. Twice.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she said in a level tone. “I need to use the lavatory. You can call the nurse by pushing that red button on the remote there.”

She went into the bathroom and shut the door. Water started to run.

Butch reached for the little button pad, but stopped as the rush of the sink continued to bleed through the door. The sound was uninterrupted, not as if someone was washing their hands or their face or filling a glass.