Lover Avenged(187)
She was so going to end up killing this poor, innocent thing.
A knock on the door brought her eyes up. “Come in.”
Marie-Terese entered, smelling of Calvin Klein’s Euphoria and wearing loose blue jeans and a white shirt. Obviously her shift hadn’t started yet. “I just interviewed two girls.”
“You like either of them?”
“One is hiding something. I’m not sure what. The other’s okay, although she’s had a botched boob job.”
“Should we send her to Dr. Malik?”
“Think so. She’s pretty enough to pull the Benjamins. You want to meet her?”
“Not right now, but yeah. How about tomorrow night?”
“I’ll have her here, you just name the time-”
“Can I ask you something?”
Marie-Terese nodded without hesitation. “Anything.”
In the silence that followed, it was on the tip of Xhex’s tongue to bring up John and Gina’s little bang sesh in the bathroom. But what was there to know? It had just been a business transaction that was common in the club.
“I was the one who sent him to Gina,” Marie-Terese said quietly.
Xhex’s stare flipped up to the woman. “Who?”
“John Matthew. I sent him to her. I figured it would be easier.”
Xhex fiddled with the Caldwell Courier Journal on her desk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Marie-Terese’s expression was all about the yeah-whatever, but to her credit she didn’t take it any farther. “What time tomorrow night?”
“For what?”
“Meeting the new girl.”
Oh, right. “Let’s say ten o’clock.”
“Sounds good.” Marie-Terese turned away.
“Hey, do me a favor?” When the woman pivoted back around, Xhex held out the little ivy plant. “Take this home for me? And, like, I don’t know…make it live.”
Marie-Terese glanced at the thing, shrugged, and came over to get it. “I like plants.”
“Which means that damn thing just won the lottery. Because I don’t.”
FIFTY-SIX
Rehvenge hit CTRL-P on his laptop and leaned back to pick up the papers spitting out of his printer one by one. When the machine let out a final whir and sigh, he brought the stack forward, separated the pages accordingly, initialed the top right of each, then signed his name three times. Same signature, same letters, same cursive scrawl.
He didn’t call Xhex in to witness. Didn’t ask Trez to do it.
iAm was the one who came, the Moor John Hancocking the name he’d assumed for human purposes on the appropriate lines to verify the will and the transfer of real property assets and the trust. After that was done, he went on to sign his true name on a letter that was written in the Old Language as well as a declaration of bloodline.
When it was all done, Rehv put everything in a black LV Epi briefcase and gave the lot to iAm. “I want you to take her out of here in thirty minutes. Take her even if you have to knock her ass cold. And make sure your brother is with you and all the staff is gone.”
iAm didn’t say anything. Instead, he took out the knife he kept at the small of his back, sliced open his palm, and reached out, his blood dropping thick and blue onto the laptop’s keyboard. He was as steady as Rehv needed him to be, totally unblinking, and solid.
Which was why long ago he had been the one chosen for the rough shit.
Rehv had to swallow hard as he stood up and took the hand that was presented. They shook on the blood vow, and then their bodies met in a hard, tight embrace.
iAm said softly in the Old Language, “I knew you well. I loved you as mine own flesh and bone. I will honor you e’er more.”
“Take care of her, okay? She’s going to be wild for a while.”
“Trez and I will do whatever we have to.”
“None of this was her fault. Neither the beginning nor the end. Xhex is going to have to believe that.”
“I know.”
They parted and Rehv had a hard time letting go of his old friend’s shoulder, mostly because this was the only good-bye he was going to make: Xhex and Trez would have fought what he was going to do, would have tried to negotiate other solutions as they clawed and grabbed for some other outcome. iAm was more fatalistic than that. More realistic, as well, because there was no other way.
“Go,” Rehv said in a cracked voice.
iAm put his blooded palm over his heart, bowed down to the waist, then left without looking back.
Rehv’s hands were shaking as he pulled back his cuff and checked his watch. The club was closing now at four. Cleaning people arrived at five a.m. on the dot. Which meant after everyone was gone he had about a half hour.