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And how about not keeping your hands to yourself, either?

He pulled on a black short-sleeved shirt and pushed his feet into a pair of shitkickers. Then he paused, eyeing a floor-to-ceiling metal cabinet that was set into the closet wall.

“Mary, why don’t you go back outside? I need a minute. Okay?”

She flushed and turned away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy—”

He took her hand. “It’s not that. You just might not like what you see next.”

As if there was much left that could shock her after today?

“Go ahead,” she murmured. “Do…whatever.”

Rhage stroked her wrist with his thumb then opened the metal cabinet. He took out an empty black leather chest holster and put it on across his shoulders, securing it under his pecs. A wide belt was next, like the kind cops wore, but as with the holster, there was nothing in it.

He looked at her. And then brought out the weapons.

Two long, black-bladed daggers, which he sheathed at his chest, handles down. A shiny handgun that he checked for bullets with fast, sure movements before anchoring it at his hip. Flashing martial-arts stars and matte-black ammunition clips that he tucked into the belt. Another, smaller knife he hid somewhere.

He took his black leather trench coat off a hanger and swung it on, patting the pockets. He pulled out another handgun from the weapons cabinet and assessed it quickly before burying it in the leather folds. He put a few more throwing stars in the coat’s pockets. Added another dagger.

When he faced her, she backed away.

“Mary, don’t look at me like I’m a stranger. It’s still me under all this.”

She didn’t stop until she hit the bed. “You are a stranger,” she whispered.

His face tightened and his voice grew flat. “I’ll be back before dawn.”

He left without any hesitation.

Mary didn’t know how long she sat and stared at the carpet. But when she looked up, she went over and grabbed the phone.

Chapter Twenty-four

Bella popped open her oven, took a peek at dinner, and gave up the fight.

What a mess.

She grabbed a pair of pot holders and extracted the meat loaf. The poor thing had cowered away from the sides of the pan, blackened on top, and developed drying cracks. It was inedible, better suited to the construction supply trade than to a dinner plate. A few dozen more of these and some mortar and she’d have that wall she wanted around her terrace.

As she shut the oven door with her hip, she could have sworn the high-end Viking stove was glaring at her. The animosity was mutual. When her brother had done over the farmhouse for her, he’d gotten her the best of everything, because that was the only way Rehvenge did things. The fact that she’d preferred the old-fashioned kitchen and the squeaky doors and the gentle aging of the place hadn’t mattered. And God help her if she’d kicked up a fuss about the security measures. The only way Rehvenge had permitted her to move out was if he made her home fireproof, bulletproof, and impregnable as a museum.

Ah, the joys of having a bossy brother with a lockdown mentality.

She picked up the pan and was headed for the French doors to the backyard when the phone rang.

As she answered, she hoped it wasn’t Rehvenge. “Hello?”

There was a pause. “Bella?”

“Mary! I called you earlier today. Hold on a sec, I’ve got to feed the raccoons.” She put the phone on the table, shot out to the yard, dumped the load and headed back in. When the pan was in the sink, she picked up the receiver. “How are you?”

“Bella, I need to know something.” The human’s voice was strained.

“Anything, Mary. What’s wrong?”

“Are you…one of them?”

Bella sank down into a chair at her kitchen table. “You mean, am I different from you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Bella glanced over at her fish tank. Everything always looked so calm in there, she thought.

“Yes, Mary. Yes, I am different.”

There was a rush of breath on the line. “Oh, thank God.”

“Somehow, I didn’t think knowing that would be a relief.”

“It is. I…I really have to talk to someone. I’m so confused.”

“Confused about…