Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“Thanks.”
Those were, of course, the right words. But her composure was almost professional-grade. So maybe she saw him as a client now, instead of a male, a project to work on, instead of a partner.
Just what he wanted.
As the silence grew even heavier, he wanted to break it, but as God was his witness—or Lassiter, as it were—he could not think of what to say. His mind was a total blank. Well, empty of words. Like an engine trying to turn over, images from the lab kept flickering into his consciousness and replacing the world around him.
So that he couldn’t see her through them.
Eventually, she said, “It’s about four a.m. I, ah, I think I’m going to take off.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Utter exhaustion sucked him down, but it wasn’t the kind that was cured with sleep. “Can I give you my number?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
How they had gone from where they’d been in his bed before they’d fallen asleep to these one-syllable answers, he had no clue.
Oh, wait. He knew why.
She got her phone out of her parka and held it up. “New one, same number.”
“Vishous is good like that.”
“He’s had to replace a lot of broken cells for sure.” As he read the number of his burner phone out to her, she entered it. “Got it.”
“Okay.”
As she started to put on her jacket, he wanted to tell her to stop. That she should stay. That maybe he’d find his voice later. Shame and shock and sorrow kept him locked in, though—another cage that existed only in his mind, but worked just fine to pen him in—and the harder he tried to pull something coherent out of his ass, the worse the paralysis got.
Her boots went on too quickly. “So, I guess I’ll be going.”
“Thanks. For coming here.”
“Thanks again for Amore.”
“Anytime.”
And then he was giving her some lame-ass wave, and she was turning away to the steps. He found that he couldn’t even move so he could go over and open the hatch for her, but she knew what to do. Then again, it wasn’t brain surgery.
After she stepped out, the sound of the hatch locking back into place was like the top of a coffin, and as he glanced around, the fact that he was underground made sense. This place was like a grave, and though he was going to live forever, it felt like he was dead.
Without Nalla, he supposed he was. Bonded males were like that.
Fucking hell. Those goddamn humans in that lab had now robbed him not only of one of his two mahmen… but of the other most important female in his life.
His true love.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Even though the Brothers had relocated their living quarters off the mountain, the Brotherhood’s clinic was still up there, a main anchor of the subterranean training center that was still used regularly for all its components. The medical facility, with its OR and examination rooms, was just too expensive and hard to move.
Plus, from what Bitty had heard, Uncle Vishous had built the clinic as an engagement present for Doc Jane. And just like you didn’t toss out a diamond ring because you bought a watch, a surgeon like that Brother’s shellan wasn’t walking away from a couple million dollars of state-of-the-art equipment and supplies.
As Bitty re-formed in a forest of pines, she was instantly racked with disorientation—and it was always like this. On the rare occasions she came back onto the property, the mhis that buffered the landscape and made it impossible for trespassers to find their way always made her wobbly. Which was how it worked.
But she had the right coordinates, so she knew where she was.
The structure she had come for was just off to the left, and as she closed in, she had to smile. An outhouse, faithfully re-created to look old, even sporting a half-moon in the door. “The shitter,” as Uncle Butch called the thing. It wasn’t until you tried to open it up that you realized what looked rickety was solid as a frickin’ rock, all the off-kilter as carefully made as a stage set for a movie.
And needless to say, you didn’t get in unless you were allowed.
As she put her gloved hand on the pull, she looked up to the slit in the door where the tiny camera was. Not more than three seconds later, the locking mechanism was sprung and she was able to step in. The panel, which was wooden on the outside, and steel on the inside, closed on its own and relocked. Then the floor started a descent.
She was always surprised, given how cooped up she was in the tight space, that they’d made the thing this small. But the Brothers didn’t use this remote entry.
No way her father could get in here, that was for sure.
There was a bump as things bottomed out, and she knew she had to wait. The door would only open when it was ready.