J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 1-4 - J. R. Ward [502]
“Why do you ask, Zsadist?”
He took a deep breath and then threw himself off a ledge. When he was finished speaking, he risked a glance at her.
Her hand was over her mouth and her eyes were so kind they were like sunlight on him. “Oh, Zsadist, yes…Yes, I will.”
Phury shook his head as he got into the Escalade. “It has to be ZeroSum.”
He so needed to go there tonight.
“Figured as much,” V said as he slid behind the wheel and Butch hopped in the back.
As they made the trip into town, the three of them were totally silent. Not even music was banging in the car.
So much death, so much loss, Phury thought. Wellsie. That young female, Sarelle, whose body V had returned to her parents.
And Tohr’s disappearance was like a death, too. So was Bella’s.
The agony of it all made him think about Z. He wanted to believe that Zsadist was on the road to some kind of recovery or something. But the idea that that male could turn himself around was completely baseless. It was only a matter of time before the brother’s need for pain came back and shit started to unravel again.
Phury rubbed his face. He felt a thousand years old tonight, he really did, but he was also wired and twitchy…traumatized on the inside, though his skin had healed. He just could not keep it together. He needed help.
Twenty minutes later, Vishous pulled up to the back of ZeroSum and parked the SUV illegally. The bouncers let them in right away, and the three of them went for the VIP section. Phury ordered a martini, and when it came he finished it in one long swallow.
Help. He needed help. He needed double-barreled help…or he was going to explode.
“’Scuse me, boys,” he murmured. He headed for the back, for the Reverend’s office. The two huge Moors nodded to him, and one spoke into his watch. A second later they let him through.
Phury walked into the cave and focused on the Reverend. The male was sitting behind his desk dressed in a pristine pin-striped suit, more businessman than pusher.
The Reverend smirked a little. “Where the hell is all that beautiful hair?”
Phury glanced behind himself, to make sure the outside door was closed. Then he took out three Benjis. “I want some H.”
The Reverend’s violet eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“Heroin.”
“You sure about that?”
No, Phury thought. “Yes,” he said.
The Reverend ran his hand back and forth over his cropped mohawk. Then he leaned forward and pressed a button on his intercom.
“Rally, I want three hundred worth of Queen up here. Make sure it’s fine-granule.” The Reverend eased back in his chair. “Straight up, I don’t think you should take that kind of powder home with you. You don’t need that shit.”
“Not that I’d take any direction from you, but you told me I should go hard-core.”
“I retract that comment.”
“I thought symphaths didn’t have a conscience.”
“I’m half my mother’s boy, too. So I have a little.”
“Aren’t you lucky.”
The Reverend’s chin dipped down, and his eyes flashed pure, purple evil for a split second. Then he smiled. “No…all the rest of you are fortunate.”
Rally arrived moments later, and the transaction didn’t take long. The folded packet fit neatly in Phury’s inside breast pocket.
As he was leaving the Reverend said, “That stuff is very pure. Dead pure. You can sprinkle it in your blunt or melt it and shoot up. But a word of advice. It will be safer for you to smoke it. You’ll have more control over the dose.”
“So familiar with your products.”
“Oh, I never use any of this toxic waste. It’ll kill ya. But I hear from folks about what works. And what’ll give you a toe tag.”
The reality of what he was doing shimmered across Phury’s skin on a nasty little tickle. But by the time he got back to the Brotherhood’s table he couldn’t wait to go home. He wanted to numb out completely. He wanted the deep nod that he’d heard heroin gave. And he knew he’d bought enough of the drug to take him to heavenly hell a couple of times.
“What’s the matter with you?” Butch asked him. “You can’t sit still tonight.”
“Nothing doing.” As he put his hand inside