Lover Avenged (Black Dagger Brotherhood 7)

Rehv thought back to a couple of days ago, to that meeting in Montrag's study...and the guy's happy little comment that he knew what kind of male Rehv was.

He'd known, all right, and not about the drug dealing.

Rehv put the document back into the envelope. Shit, this got out and the promise he'd made to his mother was going to get blown to pieces.

"So what exactly's in there?" one of the Brothers asked.

Rehv tucked the envelope inside his sable. "Affidavit signed by my stepfather right before he died calling me out as a symphath. It's an original, going by the blood-inked siggy at the bottom. But how much you want to bet Montrag didn't send his only copy."

"Maybe it's faked," Wrath murmured.

Unlikely, Rehv thought. Too many details were correct about what had happened that night.

In a flash, he was back in the past, back to the night he had done the deed. His mother had had to be taken to Havers's clinic because she'd had one of her many "accidents." When it became clear she was going to be held for observation for a day, Bella had stayed with her, and Rehv had made up his mind.

He'd gone home, assembled the doggen in the staff quarters, and faced the collective pain of all who served his family. He could remember so clearly staring at the males and females of the house, meeting their eyes one by one. Many had come into the home because of his stepfather, but they stayed because of his mother. And they were looking to him to stop what had been going on for way too long.

He'd told them all to leave the mansion for an hour.

There had been no dissent, and each one had hugged him on the way out. They had all known what he was going to do, and it was their will, too.

Rehv had waited until the last doggen had left, and then he had gone into his stepfather's study and found the male poring over documents at his desk. In his fury, Rehv had taken care of the male the old-fashioned way, measuring blow for blow, exacting the pain inflicted upon his mother first before ushering the son of a bitch to his royal, undeserved reward.

When the front doorbell had rung, Rehv had assumed it was the staff coming back and giving him notice so that they could credibly state that they hadn't seen the killer at work. Needing one last f**k-you, he'd fist-cracked his stepfather's skull hard enough to knock the bastard shellan-beater's spine out of alignment.

Moving quickly, Rehv had stepped free of the body, willed the front door to the mansion open, and left out of the French doors in the back. Having the doggen come home to "find" the body was perfect, as the subspecies was by nature docile and would never be implicated in the violence. Besides, by that time, his symphath side was roaring, and he'd needed to get himself under control.

Which, back in those days, hadn't included dopamine. He'd had to use pain to tame the sin-eater in him.

Everything had seemed like it had fallen into place...until he'd learned at the clinic that Montrag's father had found the body. Turned out to be no big deal, though. As far as the male had said at the time, Rehm had walked in, come upon the scene, and called Havers. By the time the doctor had arrived, the staff had returned, and blamed their group absence on the fact that it was the summer solstice and they had been out preparing for the ceremonies that would be held that week.

Montrag's dad had played this well, and so had the son. Any emotional disturbances Rehv had picked up either back then or during that meeting mere days ago he'd chalked up to fresh death and assassination, both of which had been in the cards.

God, it was clear, so clear, what Montrag had been doing in having Rehv arrange to kill Wrath. After the deed was done, he'd been ready to come out with the affidavit exposing Rehv as both a murderer and a symphath so that when Rehv was deported, he could assume control of not just the council but the whole race.

Nice.

Too bad it didn't work out as he'd planned. Brought a tear to the f**king eye, didn't it.

"Yeah, there's gotta be more affidavits," Rehv murmured. "No one sends their only live copy out into the world."

"Would be worth a visit to that house," Wrath said. "Montrag's heirs and assigns get hold of something like this, we've all got problems, feel me?"

"He died without issue, but yeah, there's some of his bloodline around somewhere. And I'm going to make sure that they don't find out about this."

No way in hell anyone was making him break the vow he'd made to his mother.

Not gonna happen.

Chapter FIFTY

As Ehlena did her shopping at the twenty-four-hour Hannaford supermarket she always went to, she should have been in a better mood. Things couldn't have been left on a sweeter note with Rehv. When he'd had to go to his meeting, he'd taken a quick shower and let her pick out his clothes and even do up his tie. Then he'd wrapped his arms around her and they'd just stood together, heart-to-heart.

Eventually, she'd walked him outside into the hall and waited with him for the elevator to come. Its arrival had been announced on a chime and a slide of the double doors, and he'd held the things open to kiss her once, twice. A third time. Finally, he'd stepped back and as the twin doors shut, he'd held up his phone, pointed to it, and pointed to her.

The fact that he would be calling her made the good-bye much easier. And she loved the idea that the black suit and crisp white shirt and bloodred tie he had on were what she had chosen for him.

So, yeah, she should be happier. Especially because her financial squeeze had been eased a little with the loan from the First Rehvenge Bank amp; Trust Company.

But Ehlena was jumpy as hell.

She stopped in the juice aisle, in front of the neat rows of Ocean Spray Cran-everything-and-his-uncles, and looked over her shoulder. Just more juice on the left and arrangements of granola bars and cookies on the right. Farther down, there were the checkouts, most of which were closed, and beyond that, the dark glass windows of the store.

Someone was following her.

Ever since she'd gone back into Rehv's penthouse, gotten dressed herself, and dematerialized off the terrace after locking up.

Four CranRas bottles went into her cart, and then she headed for the cereal aisle and across to the paper towels and the toilet paper. In the meat department, she picked up a ready-made roasted chicken that looked like it had been taxidermied rather than cooked, but at this point, she just needed some protein she didn't have to oven-up herself. Then it was steak for her father. Milk. Butter. Eggs.

The only disadvantage to checking out after midnight was that all the U-Scans were closed, so she had to wait behind a guy with cart full of Hungry-Man frozen dinners. As the attendant swept the Salisbury steaks across the scanner, Ehlena stared out the glass storefront wondering whether she was losing her mind.

"You know how to cook these?" the guy asked her as he held up one of the thin boxes.

Evidently, he'd misread her forward fixation as having anything to do with him and was looking for someone to heat his meat, literally: The human's eyes were hot, and roaming over her, and all she could think of was what Rehvenge would do to the guy.

This made her smile. "Read the box."

"You could read it for me."

She kept her voice level and bored-sounding. "Sorry, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that."

The human seemed a bit crestfallen as he shrugged and handed his frozen dinner over to the girl behind the cash register.

Ten minutes later, Ehlena rolled her cart out of the electric doors and was greeted by a nasty, slapping cold that made her huddle up in her parka. Fortunately, the cab she'd taken to the store was right where it was supposed to be, and she was relieved.

"You need help?" the cabbie asked through the window he put down.

"No, thanks." She looked around as she put her plastic bags in the backseat, wondering what in the hell the driver would do if a lesser jumped out from behind a truck and played Bad Santa on their asses.

When Ehlena got in next to the groceries and the driver hit the gas, she searched the eaves of the store and the half dozen cars that were parked as close to the entrance as you could get. Mr. Hungry-Man was farting around in his van, his interior light shining down on his face as he lit a cigarette.

Nothing. Nobody.

She forced herself to settle against the seat and decided she was nuts. No one was watching her. No one was after her-

Ehlena's hand went to her throat, a sudden dread overtaking her. Oh, God...what if she had what her father suffered from? What if this paranoia was the first of many episodes? What if...

"You okay back there?" the driver asked as he stared into the rearview mirror. "You seem shaky."