The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16)(133)

Eventually, he cut in. “How about we take this show back on the road, huh? The human cops are out this time of night, and not just to eat donuts—”

The sound of a cell phone going off cut through her tirade.

With a frown, Assail reached into his inner coat pocket and took out that burner. “It’s her,” he said tightly.

“Speakerphone,” Vishous ordered. “If you don’t mind.”

Assail complied, and Sola stopped breathing just so she could focus on the female voice that came over the connection.

“If you’re answering this,” the woman said in well-articulated, only slightly accented English, “I can guess you somehow survived.”

“I am well enough,” Assail said, “and you?”

“I was better prepared than you thought. Kevlar is the new black, haven’t you heard?”

“Thank you ever so kindly for the update. I shall have to remember that.”

“Just so we are clear, I will kill you. I will find you, and I will kill you, and I will settle the score you started.”

“Such ambition. You are your brother’s sister, after all. But I think you will find that I have tricks up my sleeve and friends in very low places. You might reconsider the goal given what the prize is going to look like for you.”

“I am not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“I will see you soon.”

“I look forward to it.”

As the call was ended, Sola became abruptly aware that Assail was weaving on his feet—which had a pool of blood around them.

And then the male lurched…and fell to the ground.





SIXTY-ONE


Some two hours later, Assail was out of surgery and in one of the training center’s inpatient rooms—and he was awake, and smiling. He was fairly certain he had been smiling all the way through the stitch-up process, where, according to Doc Jane, he’d needed a repair for a collapsed lung, a leaky bowel, and something else that didn’t matter to him.

There was an IV in his arm, which he’d been told was pumping meds into him, but he was floating on a bubble of such happiness, it could have been saline solution and the stuff would have been like morphine.

The only thing that could make him feel better was if his female— Right on cue, the door opened wide. But it was not his Marisol; it was his other female.

“Mrs. Carvalho,” he called out, even though her hearing was perfectly fine and the room no larger than ten by twelve. “Do come in.”

Marisol’s grandmother was smiling just as he was. “We stay, then. She told me. We stay with you. We stay here in Caldwell.”

As the older woman came forward, Assail frowned as he caught sight, over her short stature, of an argument out in the corridor. Marisol and Vishous were standing nose to nose, as if they were in disagreement about something—and he knew well that thrust of his woman’s chin: The Brother might have been bigger, stronger, and a vampire.

But he was going to lose whatever it was.

Assail refocused on her grandmother. “What are they arguing about?”

Mrs. Carvalho made a dismissive motion. “I no care. I only care that we are here. My granddaughter not so stupid after all.”

“That she is definitely not.” He motioned for the elderly woman to sit at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I am perfect. I live a hundred more years.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear.”

As a flicker of unease went through him, he considered how long he was going to be alive as opposed to the humans in his life. But maybe…miracles happened. Who knew what the future held? He had heard stories of Mary and Jane being saved.

He would have to find a way for Marisol and her grandmother to be similarly blessed.

“So,” Mrs. Carvalho announced, “you come home next night they say. We go to church then. Midnight mass. All house. Cousins and Markcus.”

“Yes, madam. As you wish.”

Mrs. Carvalho took his hand in hers and gave him a little pat. “You good boy. And then you convert—”

“Vovó,” Marisol said as she entered. “He does not have to convert—”

“For you,” Assail told his female’s grandmother, “I will do anything. If you want a Catholic in me, then you shall have it.”

Marisol came over and kissed him on the lips. “Suck-up,” she whispered.

“I have to be in good with the in-laws, as you call them.”

“Listen,” Marisol said, “I’m going to take Vovó back to the house, if it’s okay.”

“I have to cook for those men,” Mrs. Carvalho said gravely. “They too thin. They no eat unless I make the food.”

“You need to take it easy, Vovó.”

The pshhht was quick and declarative, and then Mrs. Carvalho was onto her feet and heading off. “I go make my bed. I leave—”

“Vovó, this is a hospital. You don’t have to make—” Marisol shut up as a glare came at her sure as the boxing of an ear. “Of course, Vovó. I’ll be out in a minute to help you.”

When they were alone, Assail reached up and touched her face. “My love.”