Vishous stayed where he was, his mouth open, his breath shooting in and out of him as he remained focused on the image of his best friend.
Butch put the bottle down, but held on to it, his head falling forward as if he'd closed his eyes.
"You don't have to do this," V said hoarsely.
"Yeah ... I do."
The cop's dark head lifted and then he pivoted.
When he finally came forward, he left the booze at the bar, and he stopped when he was behind Vishous. He was close ... close enough so that the heat from his body easily registered.
Or maybe that was V's own blood beginning to boil.
"What are the rules," the cop said.
"There are none." Vishous spread his stance and braced himself. "Do whatever you want ... but you have to break me. You've got to tear me apart."
Back at the compound, Manny changed into yet another set of scrubs. Things kept going like this and he should buy stock in the goddamned garment company. Or in laundry machines.
Out in the hall, he took up res against the concrete wall and stared at his Nikes. He so did not think the soles should get excited - he had a feeling that he and Payne were not going anywhere. At least, not together.
Daughter of a deity.
Annnnnd ... it didn't matter to him. She could have been the offspring of an ostrich, for all he cared.
Rubbing his face, he couldn't decide whether he was impressed with himself or terrified that he was so accepting of that news flash. Probably healthier to be shocked and disbelieving and all about the hell-no. His brain just rolled with it, though - which meant he was either getting really flexible with what he considered reality or his gray matter had fallen into a state of learned helplessness.
Probably the former. Because all in all, he felt with-it.... Shit, he felt better than he had in ages: In spite of the fact that he'd operated for ten hours straight, and he'd slept in a chair for part of the night - or day, or whatever time it was - the body/mind combo of his was strong and healthy and sharp as a tack. Even as he stretched, there was no stiffness ... or creaks or pops. It was as if he'd been on vacation for a month, getting massages and doing yoga in front of the ocean.
Not that he'd ever done the Downward Dog.
Annnnnnnnnnnnd on that note, a truly fabulous, utterly filthy image of Payne came to mind. As his c**k raised its hand to be called on, he thought it would no doubt be a good idea not to take her on a guided tour of, say, his bedroom. Actually, given recent events, which had involved him on his knees ... his bathroom was probably off-limits, too. Maybe he should avoid rooms with tile? So his kitchen was a no-go. His front hall, too -
Payne all but jumped out from the office, and she had his briefcase and other things with her. "We're free!"
With all the grace of an athlete, she ran to him, her hair flowing out behind her, her stride just as fluid as those dark waves on her head.
"We're free! We're free!"
As she leaped into his arms, he caught her and spun her around. "They're letting us go?" he said.
"Indeed! We have clearance to take your automobile out from here." As she handed him his things, she smiled so widely her fangs flashed. "I thought you might need these. And the phone works now."
"How did you know they're mine?"
"They carried your scent. And Wrath told me about the card thingy that my twin removed."
Phone-schmone. The fact she recognized him by smell turned him on, reminding him of exactly how close they had gotten -
Okay, time to stop that film reel.
She put her hand up to his face. "You know what?"
"What?"
"I like the way you look at me, Manuel."
"Oh, yeah?"
"It makes me think of when your mouth was upon me."
Manny groaned and nearly lost it. So to keep things from getting out of hand, he put his arm around her waist. "Come on. Let's take off before we lose the chance."
Her laugh was so carefree that for some reason it split his chest wide and exposed the beating heart behind his ribs. And that was before she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
"You are aroused."
He glanced over at her. "And you are playing with fire."
"I like being hot."
Manny barked out a laugh. "Well, don't you worry - you are just that."
When they came up to the fire door, he put his palm on the push bar. "This really going to open?"
"Try it and find out."
He tilted in ... and what do you know, the latch sprang free and the heavy metal panel went wide.
As vampires with guns and machetes didn't come streaming down on them from every direction, he shook his head. "How in the hell did you manage this."
"The king was not happy. But I am not a prisoner here, I am of age, and there is no reason I should not be able to leave the compound."
"And at the end of the evening ... what then?" As her joy diminished, he thought, Uh-huh, that was how she'd pulled it off. Technically, she was escorting him home.... This was their good-bye.
He smoothed her hair back. "It's okay. It's ... all right, bambina."
She seemed to swallow hard. "I shall not think of the future, and neither should you. There are hours and hours to be had."
Hours. Not days or weeks or months ... or years. Hours.
God, he didn't feel free at all.
"Come on," he said, stepping out and taking her hand. "Let's make this count."
His car was parked in the shadows on the right, and when he got over to it, he found the thing unlocked. But come on, like anyone was going to get at it?
He opened the passenger-side door. "Let me help you in."
Taking her arm like a gentleman, he settled her and then stretched the seat belt across her br**sts, clicking it into place.
As her eyes bounced around the interior and her hands stroked the sides of the bucket seat, he figured this could be her first car ride. And how cool was that?
"You ever been in one of these before?" he asked.
"Verily, I have not."
"Well, I'll take it slow."
She caught his hand as he straightened. "Does this go fast?"
He laughed a little. "It's a Porsche. Fast is what it does."
"Then you shall take us upon the wind! It shall be as my days astride were!"
Manny took a mental snapshot of the wild happiness on her face: She was glowing - and not in the ethereal sense, but in the simple joy-of-life way.
He leaned in and kissed her. "You are so beautiful."
She captured his face. "And I thank you for it."
Oh, but it so wasn't him. What was lighting her up was freedom and health and optimism - and she deserved nothing less out of life.
"I have someone I want you to meet," he blurted.
Payne smiled at him. "Then drive on, Manuel. Take us into the night."
After a moment more of staring at her ... he did just that.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Standing naked in his penthouse, Vishous waited for something ... anything.
Instead, Butch backed off and disappeared into the kitchen. As he was left to his lonesome, V closed his eyes and cursed. This was a bad idea. You didn't ask a good Catholic boy to play with the kind of toys V -
The hit came from behind, fast and sure.
It was a modified body slam, and executed beautifully: Two huge arms wrapped him at the chest and the hips and he was slung around and spun out into the far wall by the worktable. Which was when the "slam" part came in: Every square inch of him made impact. No bounce-back, though. No ricocheting.
He was pinned in place by the nape and the ass.
"Arms over your head."
That growl was like a gun to the back of his skull and V struggled to comply, fighting against the pressure that trapped both his arms in front of his chest. The right side came free first - and the instant his wrist was out from under, it was grabbed and forced into a cuff. Left side happened just as fast.
Then again, cops were good with the steel.
There was a brief release where he was able to catch some air. And then the sound of metal chain links being churned through a gear announced where things were headed: up.
Gradually, his weight shifted off his feet and onto the sockets and lengths of his arms. The ascent stopped right before his toes left the floor completely ... and then he just hung there, facing toward the windows, breath squeezing in and out of his lungs as he heard Butch moving behind him.
"Open your mouth."
At the command, V cranked his jaw wide, the joint at his cheekbone cracking, his eyes pulling down at the corners, his facial cuts coming alive with a chorus of howls.