J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [87]
As Jane cried out and arched, two sharp points ran up the column of her neck to the base of her jaw. Fangs.
Fear flooded her veins. And so did a blast of high-octane sex.
Before she could sort out the two extremes, his mouth left her neck and found her breast through the shirt. As he sucked at her he went after her core, rubbing what was ready for him, hungry for him. She opened her mouth to pant, and something was pushed into it…a thumb. She latched on desperately, nursing him while she imagined what else of his could be between her lips.
He was the master of all of it, the driver, the one operating the machinery. He knew exactly what he was doing to her as his fingers used the soft sweats and her wet panties to push her right up to the cliff.
A voice in her head—his—said, “Come for me, Jane—”
From out of nowhere brilliant light hit her face, and she sprang upright, throwing her arms out to shove the patient away.
Except he wasn’t anywhere near her. He was in bed. Asleep.
And as for the light, it came from the hall. Red Sox had opened the bedroom door.
“Sorry to wake you guys,” he said. “We have a situation.”
As the patient sat up, he glanced at Jane. The moment their eyes met, she flushed and looked away.
“Who?” the patient asked.
“Phury.” Red Sox nodded over to the chair. “We need a doctor. Like, ASAP.”
Jane cleared her throat. “Why are you looking at—”
“We need you.”
Her first thought was, the hell she was getting in deeper with them. But then the physician in her spoke up. “What’s going on?”
“Real ugly sitch. Run-in with a baseball bat. Can you come with me?”
Her patient’s voice got there first, the dead-on growl drawing one hell of a line in the sand: “If she goes anywhere, I’m coming, too. And how bad is it?”
“He got clocked in the face. Bad. Refuses to go to Havers. Said Bella’s there about the young, and he doesn’t want to upset her by showing up messy.”
“Fucking brother just has to be a hero.” V looked at Jane. “Will you help us?”
After a moment, she rubbed her face. Goddamn it. “Yeah. I will.”
As John lowered the muzzle of the Glock he’d been given, he stared down the range at a target fifty feet away. Slipping the safety back into place, he was utterly speechless.
“Jesus,” Blay said.
In total disbelief, John hit a yellow button to his left and the eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of paper whizzed up to him like a dog being called home. In the center, clustered like a daisy, were six perfect shots. Holy shit. After having sucked at everything he’d been taught so far when it came to fighting, he finally excelled at something.
Well, didn’t this make him forget about his headache.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Wrath’s voice was proud. “You did good, son. Real good.”
John reached out and unclipped the target.
“All right,” Wrath said. “That’s it for today. Check your weapons, boys.”
“Yo, Qhuinn,” Blay called out. “You see this?”
Qhuinn gave his gun to one of the doggen and came over. “Whoa. That’s some real Dirty Harry shit right there.”
John folded up the paper and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. As he returned the weapon to the cart, he tried to figure out how to identify it again so he could use it at the next practice. Ah…although the serial numbers had been filed off, there was a faint mark on the barrel, a scratch. He could totally find his gun again.
“Move out,” Wrath said as he propped his huge body against the door. “Bus is waiting.”
When John looked up from returning the gun, Lash was standing right behind him, all menace and loom. In a smooth move the guy leaned in and put his Glock down with the muzzle aimed at John’s chest. To make the point, he lingered with