J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [331]
John looked over his shoulder. Vishous was standing in the doorway.
The Brother nodded. “He’s getting dressed. So is Z. You sure you don’t want me to handle this?”
“The two of them were Lash’s teachers, and Z was a witness to the aftermath of what went down at the clinic. Lash’s parents want to talk to them and only them, and I promised that they’d be over to that house ASAP.”
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
The Brother took off, and Wrath put his elbows on the desk. “Look, John, I know Qhuinn’s a buddy of yours, and I do feel bad about a lot of his circumstances. I wish I were in a position to help him, but I’m not.”
John pushed, hoping he wouldn’t have to go to his last resort. What about Safe Place?
“The females there aren’t comfortable around males for good reason. Especially ones with violent histories.”
But he’s my friend. I can’t just sit back knowing he’s got no place to go, no job, no money—
“None of that is going to matter, John.” The words jail time hovered in the air.“You said it yourself. He took deadly force into what was your basic argument between two hotheaded guys. The right response was peeling you and Lash apart. It was not popping a knife and slicing his first cousin’s throat open. Did Lash come at you with a deadly weapon? No. Could you honestly say that the kid was going to kill you? No. It was an inappropriate use of force, and Lash’s parents are arguing assault with a deadly with intent to kill, and proximal murder under the old law.”
Proximal murder?
“The medical staff swear Lash had been resuscitated when that raid took place. His parents are assuming he doesn’t survive his capture by the lessers and are going with but-for causation. But for Qhuinn’s actions, Lash wouldn’t have been at the clinic and he wouldn’t have been abducted. Therefore, it’s proximal murder.”
But Lash worked there. So he could have been in the clinic at any rate that night.
“Except he wouldn’t have been in one of the beds as a patient, would he?” Wrath’s blunt fingers drummed on the delicate desk. “This shit is heavy-duty, John. Lash was the only son of his parents, both of whom are from founding families. It’s not going to go well for Qhuinn. That honor guard is the least of his problems at this point.”
In the silence that followed, John’s lungs got tight. He’d known all along that they were going to reach this impasse, that what he’d told Rhage wouldn’t go far enough to save his friend. And sure, he’d have done anything to avoid this, but he’d come prepared.
John went back to the double doors and closed them, then approached the desk. His hand shook as he took the file he had under his arm and placed his trump card on the king’s blotter.
“What’s this?”
With John’s stomach using his pelvic cradle as a bouncy castle, he slowly pushed his medical record toward the king.
Me. What you need to see is the first page.
Wrath frowned and picked up the magnifying glass he had to use to be able to read. Opening the folder, he bent down over the report that detailed the therapy session John had had at Havers’s. It was clear when the king got to the salient part, because the male’s heavy shoulders tightened under his black T-shirt.
Oh, God . . . , John thought, he was so going to throw up.
After a moment, the king closed the file and put the magnifying glass back down on the blotter. In silence, he took care to arrange the two things so they were side by side and positioned perfectly, the ivory handle of the magnifier in line with the bottom of the file.
When Wrath finally looked up, John did not move his eyes away, even though he felt as if every inch of him were dripping with filth. That was why Qhuinn did it. Lash read my file because he was working