The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #1)(28)

“The Jackal.” He bowed a little, as if they were making acquaintance in a drawing room. “And yes, that is my name.”

No, it wasn’t. But he didn’t use his real one. Hadn’t for . . . well, since after his transition.

“Your first name is ‘the’?” she said dryly.

“It was a nickname that stuck.”

“Down here?”

“And up there.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

There was a long silence, and as she broke off and walked around the fire pit, he studied her movements.

“How would you care for a hot bath,” he asked.

“Like this place has running water?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, it does. But more than that, the bathing pool is in an even more secure place. I’d suggest you allow me to get your pack and show you the way.”

“I’ll get it myself. Which way do I go.”

The Jackal put his hands on his hips and stared at the stone floor. Then he strode over and got right in the female’s face.

In Nyx’s face.

“Enough.” He loomed over her. “I have had enough. You’re going to stay here. I’m going to get your pack. And then we’re going to the bathing pool.”

“No, I’m going to—”

“Your desperation to find your sister is making you reckless. If that gets only you killed, fine. You deserve it. But Lucan and Kane are now involved and I will not let you endanger their lives.”

“How does me going back to get my stuff have anything to do with them?”

“Because I’m going to be obligated to save you and what do you think they’re going to do? They’re going to come help me. Or are you saying that they don’t matter. That they’re just prisoners who are expendable. Hmm? Is that how you feel?”

“Of course not,” she spat.

“Then for once in your life, do what you’re told and stay here.”

Nyx crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Going by the way her jaw moved, it was obvious she was grinding her molars, and her eyes were spitting fire.

Except then she muttered, “Fine.”

The Jackal threw up his hands and turned away. “Finally. A fucking breakthrough.”

“FYI, you just cussed. And it was a big one.”

“See what you drive males to?”

As he stalked off, she called out, “I get along with most people, you know.”

“If you believe that, you’re delusional as well as obstinate,” he tossed over his shoulder as he kept on going.

Before he did something stupid.

Like kiss her.

Although that was their deal, wasn’t it. He got her to her sister. She gave him what he wanted.

Fates, that was a tricky bargain, he thought as he left her in the dust. Because it had to just be about the sex. He had to remain emotionless and apart from her, only the physical side of things connecting.

“Not a problem,” he told himself.

Things kept up as they were, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.





As Nyx waited by the fire pit, she kept the knife she had almost used on that big Lucan guy against the palm of her dominant hand. Left on her own, her heart beat fast and her eyes skimmed around the secret gathering place, tracking shadows that did not move and contours that remained the same. Underground water easing out of fissures in the walls slicked the stone, and in the candlelight, she could pick out the carving marks that were testament to the effort that had gone into creating the space.

Had the Jackal made this with the others? Over a period of years? Decades? She couldn’t fathom the time lost.

She took out a burner cell phone and looked at the time. Four hours had passed since she had left the farmhouse. It felt like four years. Naturally, there was no signal down here—and she hadn’t expected there to be one—but she had plenty of battery life. And with the lack of notifications, she wondered if Posie had sent anything that hadn’t gone through. Her sister must have noticed her too-long absence by now. Unless . . . maybe Peter was in crisis. Had he died yet?

Probably.

The idea that she’d had to choose between sisters sucked.

Nyx checked the screen on her phone one last time, focusing on her wallpaper. It was a photograph she’d taken back in June, of the front of the farmhouse. Its lights were aglow, the cheerful yellow illumination spilling out onto the lawn and flowing over the peony beds that were in full bloom.

In her mind, she told Posie she would be back soon. But she didn’t say the words out loud because she feared they were a lie.

Then she turned off the unit to save the battery life and zipped it into an inside pocket.

Glancing over her shoulder, she thought she heard footsteps. No. It wasn’t the Jackal coming back, and it wasn’t anybody else, either.

That male drove her nuts. Especially because he was right. She was being reckless, and if she kept rolling the crazy dice, snake eyes was going to come up and get her.

God, she hoped he was being honest with her.

Unable to stay still, she walked around the fire pit three or four times. Stopped and looked again to the tunnel where her host had gone. When he’d suggested he be the one to go get her pack, she’d agreed. Had that been a mistake? Was he even now selling her grandfather’s weapons and ammo on the prison’s black market, or whatever they called it?