Burnt Offerings - Laurell K. Hamilton [87]
“The three of us are bound to each other for what could be a very, very long time, Richard. We’re going to have to find a way to live together.”
He laughed, and it was bitter. “Live together? You want a house for three with Jean-Claude down in the basement and me chained out in the yard?”
“Not exactly, but you can’t keep hating yourself like this.”
“It’s not me I hate. It’s you.”
I shook my head. “If that were true, I’d leave you alone. But you hate your beast and your beast is you.”
He pulled in front of the Circus. “We’re here.” He turned off the engine and silence filled the car. “Cherry can wait here.”
“Thank you, Richard,” I said.
He shook his head. “Don’t thank me, Anita.” He smoothed his hands over his face into his hair, combing his fingers through it. The gesture showed his arms and chest to wonderful advantage. He’d never been aware of how much the simplest thing he did had moved me. “Don’t thank me.” He got out of the car.
I told Cherry to stay low. I didn’t want them to get any ideas about taking her while we were inside rescuing the others. It would sort of defeat the purpose of the entire trip.
Zane kissed her on the forehead the way you’d calm a child. He told her everything would be all right, that I’d keep them safe. God, I hoped he was right.
28
A MAN HAD walked up to meet Richard. He’d been waiting for him. I reached in the coat pocket and clicked off the safety on the Browning because I knew him.
Zane, who was very close behind me asked, “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head. “Hello, Jamil.”
“Hello, Anita.” He was just shy of six feet, wearing a white tank top almost the twin of the one Richard wore. Except that Jamil had cut out the neck, arms, and chopped out the middle of the shirt so that his slender waist and cobblestone abs showed. The white tank top was in startling contrast to the rich solid brown of his skin. His hair was waist-length, worked in thin corn rows intertwined with bright beads. He was wearing white sweat pants and looked like he’d just come from the gym.
The last time I’d seen Jamil he’d been trying to kill Richard. “What are you doing here?” Even to me it didn’t sound friendly.
He smiled, a quick baring of teeth. “I’m Richard’s enforcer.”
“So?”
“They allowed us each one backup, plus the wereleopards,” Richard said. He spoke without looking at me, staring at the front of the Circus rising into the bright sunlight.
“I’m short one wereleopard and a backup,” I said.
He did look at me then. His face was as closed and guarded as I’d seen it. “I thought Jean-Claude had told you, and you’d just decided against any backup.”
“I’d take backup into hell, Richard. You know that.”
“Don’t blame me if your boyfriend forgot to mention it.”
“He probably thought you’d mention it.”
He just looked at me with his angry eyes.
“Is there anything else you forgot to tell me?”
“He just said to tell you, don’t kill anyone.”
“He mention anyone in particular not to kill?” I asked.
Richard frowned then. “As a matter of fact, he did.” He said the next in a bad French accent. “‘Tell ma petite not to kill Fernando no matter what the provocation.’”
It brought a tight smile to my face. “Fine.”
Jamil was staring at me. “The look on your face, babe. That is the most evil little smile I’ve ever seen. What did this Fernando do to you?”
“To me personally, nothing.”
“He raped your Geri, your second in command,” Zane said.
Both of the werewolves stared at him, a sudden flash of hostility that made Zane step back. He moved a little behind me, which didn’t quite work since he was nearly a foot taller. Hard to cower behind someone who’s shorter than you are.
“He raped Sylvie?” Richard asked.
I nodded.
“He has to be punished,” Richard said.
I shook my head. “I told Sylvie I’d kill him. That we’d kill them all.”
“All?” Richard made it a question.
“All,” I said.
He looked away then, not meeting my eyes. He asked without turning around, “How