The Wolf (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #2)(85)

“Not with her you can’t.”

There was a brief, surging tension. And then Apex pulled away, parting the drapes and disappearing through them. As the lengths of fabric resettled themselves, there were murmurs from the other side.

Pacing seemed like a good idea, so Lucan walked down the lineup of beds. Came back. Went down again. Came back. Meanwhile, Mayhem just stood where he was, staring at the fall of sheets.

Maybe the prisoner was projecting good vibes into whatever the hell was happening at that bedside. Maybe he was having a stroke and hadn’t fallen over yet. Maybe he was thinking about absolutely nothing at all.

Total toss-up.

Lucan went to the door that opened out into the corridor. Cracking the panel, he double-checked that there was no one coming. When that didn’t seem like enough, he stepped outside and went all the way down to peer into the stairwell.

No sounds. No scents. But that could change at any moment.

All he could think about was how much he didn’t want this exposure for Rio or this wasted time. No offense to Kane.

When he reentered the clinic, Mayhem looked over at him.

“You know,” the male said, “this place is going to be in chaos when the Executioner’s body is discovered. And we need to get rid of the guards in the quarters. For one, it’ll keep things tidy, for another, they’re going to start to smell. But the real reason is the head of the guards. If they know we killed that kind of personnel? It’s going to make everything harder.”

The guy did have a point. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course, if you deliberately want to stir up shit, we could just put ’em on the wall. Hang ’em like paintings—oh, we could make a decoration with them. How about high-fiving. Shooting a basket—”

“No.”

“You’re boring.”

“You think this is a Mr. Popular competition?” Then Lucan shook his head. “You’re right, though, we should dispose of them. If the head of the guards doesn’t know where they are, and we’re not obvious about what we did, they won’t know who did the coup right away and what went down. They’ll have to check all the troops, and because some live off-site, it’ll take some time—which we’ll use to get Rio out of here. If only there was a way to get them outside. We’ve got another hour of sunshine left.”

“Rio could do it.”

Looking over at the guy, Lucan said, “No, she can’t—”

“What can’t I do?” Rio asked as she emerged from the draping.

“Nothing—”

“Help us take those two guards outside,” Mayhem cut in. “That back entrance from the private quarters is—”

“She is not—”

“—going to make it simple and you wouldn’t have to take them far.”

“—taking them anywhere.”

“Sure,” Rio said. “I’m strong. I’ll move them.”

“No,” Lucan snapped. “It’s too fucking dangerous.”

“And you can relax with that.” She looked between him and Mayhem. “I heard what you said. I think it makes a lot of sense. The more confusion, the better, especially if you’re worried about the head of the guards, whoever he is.”

Mayhem shot Lucan a smarty-pants look. “Great, we’ll go back to the quarters and—”

The draping around the bed was whipped aside.

Apex locked eyes with Rio, with an intensity that was so great, the male was trembling from it, his huge, lethal body poised to leap on the woman.

“No!” Lucan barked as he threw himself between them. “I told you it’s not her fault!”

“What happened?” Rio shoved him out of the way . . . then dug into the pockets of his pants. “I have the Narcan—”

With a surge, Apex jumped forward.

And wrapped his arms around Rio. Letting out a choked sigh, he dropped his head into her neck . . . and held on like she was the only thing keeping him on the planet.

Over the male’s heavy shoulder, Rio’s eyes squeezed shut and she embraced him back. “Oh, Apex, I’m so sorry, I really tried to help—”

The nurse ducked her hooded head out from behind the drapery. “He’s resting comfortably. For the first time since he came to me.”

Now Rio’s eyes flared back open. There were tears in them. “Thank God he’s not in pain.”

Lucan exhaled a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding.

And wondered what the hell the story with her brother was.





Captain?”

As José came up to the open office door, he knocked on the jamb. “You receiving there, Captain? Willie isn’t at her desk.”

From out of the private bathroom in the far corner, a muffled voice answered with what could have been anything: Hello. Not now. Come in. Fortunately, a second later, Stan emerged from his favorite crapper, as he called it. His frown was deep as a cavern, and at his throat, a tie was in the process of being redone. Or undone. Hard to tell which.

“You taking that off or making sure it stays on?” José asked.

“Wish I didn’t have to wear it at all. But the one I put on this morning got mustard on it at lunch. Well, I got French’s on my sport coat, too.” Stan nodded over to the sofa where a wad of navy blue had been tossed onto the cushions. “Good thing I have second sets of everything in my favorite crapper.”