"Was it a flashback from your shooting?" Jane asked as she urged him to lie down in her arms. "Yeah, f**k..." Butch lowered his muzzle and jacked up his boxers.
"Scared the piss out of me and Marissa. You want some Goose to chill?"
"Yeah."
"Jane? Anything for you?"
She was shaking her head when V cut in with, "Hot chocolate. She'd like some hot chocolate. I had Fritz bring some mix over. It's in the kitchen."
When Butch left, V scrubbed his face. "Sorry about that."
"God, don't apologize." She ran her hand up and down his chest. "You okay?"
He nodded. Then, like a total sap, he kissed her and said, "I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too." She wound her arms around him and held him like he was precious.
They were quiet until Butch came back a little later with a glass in one hand and a mug in the other. "I want a nice tip. I burned my pinkie on the stove."
"You want me to look at it?" Jane tucked the sheet under her arms and reached forward for the cocoa.
"I think I'll live, but thanks, Doc Jane." Butch handed the Goose to V. "How about you, big guy? You cool now?"
Not hardly. Not after the dream. Not with Jane leaving. "Yeah."
Butch shook his head. "You're a bad liar."
"Fuck you." There was no heat to V's words at all. And no conviction as he tacked on, "I'm tight."
The cop went over to the door. "Oh, speaking of strong, guess Phury showed up at First Meal, all ready to go out and fight tonight. Z stopped by here a half hour ago on the way to class to thank you, Doc Jane, for everything you did. Phury's face looks good and the brother's eye's working just fine."
Jane blew over the top of the mug. "I'd feel better if he'd go see an optometrist to be sure."
"Z said he push for that and got shut down. Even Wrath took a shot at it."
"I'm glad our boy came out okay," V said, and truly meant it. Trouble was, Jane's only excuse to stay had just vaporized.
"Yeah, me too. I'll leave you two alone. Later."
As the door shut, V listened to the sound of Jane blowing across her hot cocoa again.
"I'm going to bring you home tonight," he said.
She stopped blowing. There was a long pause then she took an inhaling sip. "Yes. It's time."
He swallowed half the Goose in the glass. "But before I do, I'd like to take you somewhere first."
"Where?"
He wasn't sure how to tell her what he wanted to happen before he let her go. He didn't want her to bolt, especially as he contemplated the years and years ahead of him and all of the dishonest, disinterested sex he was going to have to have.
He finished his Goose. "Somewhere private."
As she drank from the mug, her brows dropped down low. "So you're really going to let me go, huh?"
He stared at her profile and wished they had met under different circumstances. Except how in the f**k would that have ever happened?
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I am."
Standing in front of his locker three hours later, John wished Qhuinn would shut his damn piehole. Even though the locker room was loud from the sounds of metal doors banging shut and clothes flapping and shoes dropping, he felt like his buddy had a bullhorn stapled to his upper lip.
"You're flippin' huge, J. M. For real. Like... ginormous."
That is not a word. John shoved his backpack in like he usually did and realized none of the clothes he was crushing would fit him anymore.
"The hell it isn't. Back me up, Blay."
Blay nodded as he pulled on his ji. "Yeah, you fill out? You're going to be, like, Brother-sized."
"Gigundous."
Okay, also not a word, ass**le.
"Fine, really, really, really big. How's that?"
John shook his head as he put his books on the floor and deep sixed the little duds in the nearest trash can.
As he came back over, he sized up his friends and realized he was bigger than both of them by a good four inches. Hell, he was as tall as Z.
He glanced down the aisle at Lash. Yup, topped Lash, too.
The bastard looked over as he took his shirt off, as if sensing John's stare. In a smooth move, the guy deliberately flexed his shoulders, the muscles curling up tight under his skin. He had a tattoo across his stomach that hadn't been there two days before, a word in the Old Language John didn't recognize.
"John, getcha ass out in the hall for a sec."
The whole place went silent, John jerked his head around. Zsadist was standing in the door to the locker room, all business.
"Shit," Qhuinn whispered.
John put his backpack away, shut his locker, and tugged his shirt into place. He walked over to the Brother as quickly as he could manage, stepping around other guys as they pretended to keep doing what they were doing.
Z held the door wide as John went out into the hallway. After the thing was closed, he said, "Tonight, you and me are meeting before dawn, just like usual. We're just going to skip the walking. You'll come to the weight room while I lift. We need to talk."
Shit was right. John signed, Same time?
"Four a.m. As for training tonight, I expect you to sit it out in the gym, but participate at the shooting range. Feel me?"
John inclined his head, then grabbed Z's arm as the male turned away. Is it about last night?
"Yup."
The Brother walked away, punching open the double doors to the gym. When the two halves shut they made a clanking sound.
Blaylock and Qhuinn came up behind John.
"What's doing?" Blay asked.
I'm going to get shit for capping that lesser, John signed.
Blay pushed a hand into his red hair. "I should have covered for you better."
Qhuinn shook his head. "John, we'll take up for you, my man. I mean, it was my idea to go to the club."
"And my gun."
John crossed his arms over his chest. It's going to be okay.
Or at least he hoped it would. He was on the thin edge of getting kicked out of the program as it stood.
"By the way..." Qhuinn put his hand on John's shoulder. "Haven't gotten a chance to thank you."
Blay nodded. "Me neither. You were righteous last night. Totally righteous. You f**king saved us."
"Shit, you totally knew what you were doing."
John felt his face go red.
"Well, ain't this cozy," Lash drawled. "Tell me something, do you three draw straws to decide who'll be on the bottom? Or is it always John?"
Qhuinn smiled, baring his fangs. "Has anyone ever shown you the difference between good touch and bad touch? 'Cause I'd love to demonstrate. We could start right now."
John stepped in front of his friend, going face-to-face with Lash. He said nothing, just looked down at the guy.
Lash smiled. "You got something to say to me? No? Wait, you still have no voice? God... what a bummer."
John could feel Qhuinn gearing up for a lunge, the heat and the impulse rolling off his friend. To stop the collision from happening, John reached behind and put a hand on his buddy's abs to keep him in place.
If anyone was going after Lash, it was him.
Lash laughed and tightened the belt on his ji. "Don't front like you have game, John-boy. The transition doesn't change you on the inside or fix your physical defects. Right, Qhuinn?" As he turned away, he said under his breath, "Mismatched motherfucker."
Before Qhuinn could jump the guy, John wheeled around and grabbed him around the waist just as Blay locked onto one of the guy's arms. Even with their combined weight, it was like keeping back a bull.
"Chill," Blay grunted. "Just relax."
"I'm going to kill him one of these days," Qhuinn hissed. "I swear to God."
John glanced over as Lash sauntered into the gym.
Taking a vow to himself, he marked the guy for a beating, even if it got him kicked out of the program for good.
He'd always felt that if you f**ked with his friends, you were going to get served. End of story.
Thing was, now he had the equipment to deliver the job.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Around midnight Jane found herself in the back of a black Mercedes on her way home. Up front, on the other side of the partition that was in place, the uniformed driver was that butler who was older than God and as cheerful as a terrier. Beside her V was dressed in black leather, as silent and grim as a tombstone.
He hadn't said much. But he wouldn't let go of her hand.