Z shifted uneasily and stared at the floor.
Rhage turned his back to the group.
The silence in the room stretched out.
And then with a slow, halting walk, Zsadist went over to Rhage. When he was standing next to the brother, he didn't say a word, didn't lift a hand, didn't make a sound. He just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder into Rhage's.
Rhage jerked as if surprised. The two men looked at each other. And then both stared out the obscured window.
"Continue," Rhage commanded in a dead voice.
Wrath sat back down behind the desk. And Butch started to speak again.
By eight o'clock that night, Zsadist was finished at Bella's.
He poured the last bucket of suds out in the kitchen sink and then put the container and the mop away in the closet next to the garage door.
Her house was now clean and everything was back where it needed to be. When she came home, all she would see was a whole lot of normal.
He fingered the small chain with little diamonds in it that was at his throat. He'd found the thing on the floor the night before, and after he'd fixed the broken link he'd put it on. It barely went around his neck.
He scanned the kitchen one more time and then took the stairs down to her bedroom. He'd refolded her clothes neatly. Slid the dresser drawers back in place. Lined up her perfume bottles again on the vanity. Vacuumed.
Now he opened her closet and touched her blouses and sweaters and dresses. He leaned in and breathed deeply. He could smell her, and the scent made his chest burn.
Those f**king bastards were going to bleed for her. He was going to tear them apart with his bare hands until their black blood ran over him like a waterfall.
With vengeance throbbing in his veins, he went over to her bed and sat down. Moving slowly, as if he might crash the frame, he lay back and put his head on her pillows. There was a spiral-bound book on top of the duvet and he picked it up. Her handwriting filled the pages.
He was illiterate, so he couldn't understand the words, but they were beautifully composed, her penmanship curling into a lovely pattern over the paper.
On a random page, he caught the one word that he could read.
Zsadist.
She'd written his name. He flipped through the journal, looking closely. She'd written his name a lot recently. He cringed as he imagined the content.
Closing the book, he returned it to the precise spot it had been in. Then he glanced to the right. There was a hair ribbon on the bed stand, as if she'd whipped the thing off before getting into bed. He picked it up and wound the black satin through his fingers.
Butch appeared at the base of the stairs.
Z shot up off the bed as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Which, of course, he had been. He shouldn't be all over Bella's private space.
But at least Butch didn't seem any more comfortable than he was at their meeting.
"What the hell are you doing here, cop?"
"I wanted to look at the scene again. But I see you're handy with a paper towel."
Zsadist glared across the room. "Why do you care about all this? What's the abduction of one of our females to you?"
"It matters."
"In our world. Not yours."
The cop frowned. " 'Scuse me, Z, but given your reputation, what's all this to you?"
"Just doing my job."
"Yeah, right. Then why are you marking time on her bed? Why'd you spend hours cleaning up her house? And why are you holding that ribbon so tight your knuckles are white?"
Z looked down at his hand and slowly released his grip. Then he pegged the human with a stare.
"Don't f**k with me, cop. You won't like what comes back at you."
Butch cursed. "Look, I just want to help find her, Z. I gotta... It means something to me, okay? I don't like women getting brutalized. I got some nasty personal history with this kind of shit."
Zsadist pushed the strip of satin into his pocket and circled the human, closing in on him. Butch sank into a defensive position, waiting for the attack.
Z stopped dead in front of the guy. "The lessers have probably killed her already, haven't they?"
"Maybe."
"Probably."
Z leaned forward and took a deep breath. He could smell no fear coming out of the human even though his big body was tense and ready to fight. This was good. The cop was going to need some balls if he really wanted to play in the Brotherhood's sandbox of hell.
"Tell me something," Z muttered. "Will you help me slaughter the lessers that took her? You got the stomach for that, cop? Because... straight up, I'm going to go crazy over this."
Butch's hazel eyes narrowed. "They take from you, they take from me."
"I'm nothing to you."
"You're wrong about that. The Brotherhood's been good to me, and I stick with my boys, you feel me?"
Z measured the male. The aura Butch threw off was all business. Down-to-the-blood business.
"I don't do gratitude," Z said.
"I know."
Z braced himself and extended his hand. He felt the need to seal the pact between them, even though he was going to hate the sensation. Luckily, though, the human's grip was gentle. Like he knew how hard the contact was for Z to handle.
"We go after them together," the cop said as they dropped their arms.
Z nodded. And the two of them headed upstairs.
Chapter Fifty-one
Mary waved as the big Mercedes eased to a stop in front of the hospital. She jogged over at such a clip that Fritz was just getting out of the driver's side as she jumped into the car.
"Thanks, Fritz! Listen, I've called Rhage six times and he's not answering his cell. Is everything okay?"
"All is well. I saw your sire this afternoon."
She beamed at the doggen. "Good! And as it's eight o'clock, it's still early for him to have gone out."
Fritz put the car in drive and gently eased into traffic. "Is there anything you require - "
She reached across the seat, threw her arms around the little old man, and kissed him on the cheek. "Take me home fast, Fritz. Faster than you've ever gone before. Break every traffic law."
"Madam?"
"You heard me. As fast as you can!"
Fritz was all flustered from the attention, but he recovered quickly and punched the gas.
Mary put her seat belt on and then popped the visor down and looked at herself in the little lighted mirror. Her hands were shaking as she put them to her cheeks, and giggles broke out of her mouth, especially as the car careened around a corner and she was thrown against the door.
When sirens sounded, she laughed even harder.
"I beg your pardon, madam." The doggen glanced over at her. "But I must evade the police and this might get rather bumpy."
"Blow their doors off, Fritz."
The doggen flipped something and all the lights in and outside the car were extinguished. Then the Mercedes let out a roar that reminded her of that ride in the GTO with Rhage through the mountains.
Well, except they'd had headlights then.
She grabbed on to the seat-belt strap and shouted over the din of squealing tires, "Tell me you have perfect night vision or something!"
Fritz smiled at her calmly, as if they were just chatting it up in the kitchen. "Oh, yes, madam. Perfect."
With a jerk to the left he swerved around a minivan and then shot down an alley. Slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting a pedestrian, he nailed the gas pedal to the floor again as soon as he had a clear path down the narrow street. Darting out the other side, he cut off a taxi, dodged a bus. Even made an SUV the size of the QE II think twice before pulling out in front of him.
The old guy was an artist behind the wheel.
Okay, an artist in a Jackson Pollock kind of way, sure, but amazing nonetheless.
And then he shot into a parking spot. Right on the main drag. Just like that.
The chorus of sirens got so loud she had to yell. "Fritz, they're going to - "
Two police cars sped right by them.
"One more moment, madam."
Another cop car went flying down the street.
Fritz eased out and continued at a brisk pace.
"Nice trick, Fritz."
"With no offense to you, madam, human minds are rather easily manipulated."
As they sped along, she laughed and fidgeted and tapped her fingers on the armrest. The trip seemed to take forever.
When they got to the compound's first set of double gates, she was practically vibrating, she was so excited. And the moment they pulled up in front of the house, she bolted from the car, not even bothering to shut the door.