J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [298]
The nurse came at him with a little tray of vials and a rubber tourniquet, and he rolled up his sleeve. She worked fast and didn’t say a word as she drew the blood then hit the door as quickly as she could.
“How much longer is it going to be?” he asked before she could get away.
“An emergency’s come in. It’s going to be a while.”
The door clapped shut.
Shit. He didn’t want to leave his club alone all night. With both Trez and Xhex off-site . . . yeah, that was no good. iAm was a hard-ass, for sure, but even ruff-tuffs needed solid backup when they were facing a crowd of four hundred fucked-up humans.
Rehv popped open his phone, dialed Xhex, and fought with her for about ten minutes. Which wasn’t fun but helped kill some time. She wouldn’t budge on him pulling out, but at least he got her to agree to go back to the club with Trez.
Of course, that was only after he direct-ordered the both of them.
“Fine,” she snapped.
“Fine,” he bit out, ending the call.
He shoved his phone in his pocket. Cursed a couple of times. Took the fucking thing back out and texted: I’m sorry I’m such a shit. Forgive me?
Just as he hit send, a text came through from her: U can be such a shit abt this. I only ride u cuz I care.
He had to laugh, especially when she texted again: UR 4given but ur still a shit. TTYL
Rehv put his phone back in his pocket and looked around, cataloging the tongue depressors in their glass jar by the sink and the blood-pressure cuff hanging off the wall and the desk and computer setup in the corner. He’d been in this room before. He’d been in all the examination rooms before.
He and Havers had been doing the doctor/patient thing for quite a while, and it was tricky shit. If anyone had evidence that there was a symphath around, even a half-breed, by law they had to report the individual so they could be removed from the general population and dumped off at the colony up north. Which would ruin everything. So each time Rehv came for one of these visits, he burrowed into the good doctor’s brain and opened what he liked to think of as his own personal trunk in Havers’s attic.
The trick wasn’t dissimilar to what vampires could do to erase the short-term memories of humans, just more in-depth. After putting the doc in a trance, Rehv sprang the information about himself and his “condition,” and Havers was able to treat him accurately—and without all the unpleasant social ramifications. When the appointment was over, Rehv packed up his “belongings” in the guy’s brain and secured them again, locking them down tight in the doctor’s cerebral cortex until the next time.
Was it sneaky? Yes. Was there another option? No. He needed treatment—he wasn’t like Xhex, who managed to quell her urges on her own. Although God only knew how she did—
Rehv straightened, his spine tingling in a rush, his instincts pulling a ring-a-ding-ding.
His palm found his cane and he slid off the table, landing on two feet he couldn’t feel. The trip to the door was three steps, and then his hand grabbed onto the handle and twisted. Outside, the corridor was empty in both directions. Down far to the left, the nursing station and the waiting room seemed all business as usual. To the right, there were more patient rooms and beyond them, the double doors that led to the morgue.
No drama.
Yeah . . . nothing appeared out of place. Medical staff walked with purpose. Someone coughed in the examination room next door. The hum of the HVAC system was a constant slow boil of white noise.
He squinted and was tempted to reach out with his symphath side, but it was too risky. He’d just gotten himself restabilized. Pandora and her box needed to stay closed.
Ducking back into the exam room, he got out his phone and started to dial Xhex to call her back to the clinic, but the door opened before the call went through.
His brother-in-law, Zsadist, put his head through the door. “Heard you were in.”
“Hey.” Rehv