The Wolf (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 2)

Wrath sat back, his hand reaching down to stroke the boxy head of his Seeing Eye dog. As George lifted his head in adoration, the King actually laughed a little at the joke. A rare event. Like Zsadist smiling.

“I would pay money to see that.” Annnnnnnnnd then shit got serious again. “So tell me what went tits up.”

V flicked his Bic, sucked the flame into the tip, and exhaled. “We got some samples of the product. Nothing much else. As we said, Rhage popped one contact, and the other—well, she got busy saving the world so she missed her appointment with the middleman.”

“Why don’t you get into her mind,” Wrath demanded. “Look under the rocks, find the worms. If that shit’s hitting the streets, and she’s one of the dealer’s enforcers, she’ll know where it’s coming from.”

“She doesn’t. Not yet. She’s working on a deal, though. Something was supposed to come of it tonight, but then—yeah, she had to go to rehab.”

Wrath shook his head. “Good dealers never use their own product.”

“Oh, it wasn’t for her. She was taking care of a junkie.” V stroked his goatee. “See, our girl down there, she’s got herself a little secret. She’s a cop playing among thieves.”

Black eyebrows once again rose above the wraparounds. “Dangerous game.”

“She’s a do-gooder, trying to make up for a bad thing that wasn’t her fault. She’s definitely going to get herself killed in the process, but hopefully, I’ll find out what we need from her before she toes up.”

“You are such a humanitarian, V.” Wrath leaned to the side and gathered up the dog, transferring the sleepy blond bulk from the floor into his lap. “But stay on it. We need to find that camp.”

V ran through his visit to the previous location. The place had been underground, out north and west from Caldwell, a subterranean labyrinth of old cells and cavernous common places hidden from everyone and everything. Set up by the glymera for criminals in the 1800s, it had devolved into a debased holding tank for all kinds of minor infractions, social insults, and inconvenient people who needed to be disappeared by the aristocracy. Over time, the location had been forgotten, and in the vacuum of stewardship, a new power structure and sustaining effort had evolved, the costs of food and supplies covered by drug dealing in Caldie’s downtown.

The big break on its existence had come when a female had gone into the prison camp to rescue her sister, and shit had gotten critical. The Jackal, a true male of worth who had been falsely imprisoned, had made it out alive with her, but by the time the Brotherhood had arrived on scene, the place had been partially destroyed and totally emptied out.

From a tactical point of view, V had to respect the coordination required to move that many people. It wasn’t like they’d dematerialized to another location. That would have been like blowing the head of a dandelion, scattering your indentured workforce to the wind, never to be seen again. No, the illicit leadership had had trucks—and big ones. There had been evidence of a flotilla’s worth of vehicles exiting the abandoned site through a roadway that ran in and out of the facility.

There had also been the leftovers of a drug-processing station the size of a small college, the details of which the Jackal had shared as best he could.

“We’ll find the prison.” V inhaled deep and let the smoke roll out of his mouth. “And we’re gonna take control.”

A subtle knocking on the door had Rhage leaping to his feet. “Fritz with the food, finally! I’m starved.”

As Hollywood raced to let the butler in like he was in a deadly blood sugar drop, Wrath shook his head. “Does he ever stop eating?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” V said dryly.

The St. Francis Medical Center was a state-of-the-art sprawl that just happened to be on Rio’s way home. As she came up to a red light at the entrance to its complex, she looked over the glowing, mostly empty parking lots, and the glowing, always full buildings of surgical suites, testing facilities, patient rooms, and administrative offices. Even with all the well-lit signage, the idea of figuring out how to get around to the emergency room was exhausting—

Her phone vibrated in the interior pocket of her jacket, and she fished around to find it. She didn’t bother to check and see who was calling. She knew who it was.

“I can’t talk, I’m going to get checked out.” Hitting her directional signal, she ran the red light and turned into the main thoroughfare through the acreage. “And no, I’m not bleeding. I got into a little car accident, but I’m fine.”

Captain Stanley Carmichael got his boss voice on. “I’ll meet you there.”

“No, you won’t. I’m undercover and will be using my—”