“Why ever not?” Ehric asked as he took his first bite. “Ahhh, ’tis masterful.”
“Indeed,” his twin agreed. “Mercilessly so.”
“Also not the word you want.” Assail held off explaining that they should not eat the food because then it all would be gone and the only tie he had left to his Marisol would be— “I shall retire for the day the now.”
“Adieu,” Ehric said.
“Anew,” Evale tacked on.
“That’s ‘anon,’ dear cousin of mine.”
Assail proceeded into the laundry whereupon he dropped the bloodied towel in the wash, shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and removed his dirtied shirt.
Both of his cousins had looked at the stains, but neither had said anything.
Were words really necessary, though.
As Assail passed back through the kitchen bare chested and with his jacket over his shoulders, he said to no one in particular, “I shall endeavor to employ us a proper doggen. One who is well versed in the caretaking of a home and all that entails. I tire of doing laundry and vacuuming.”
“Are you certain it does not have to do with a dwindling supply of certain frozen foods?”
He glanced at Ehric. “I believe I shall employ you unto Naasha’s underground again soon. I prefer you quiet, even if your brother butchers language as if it were a pig upon the slaughter.”
Assail proceeded onward to the stairs, and he waited until he had made the corner and turned away from them to massage the ache in his chest.
Would the missing of that human woman e’er ease?
* * *
As Rhage waited for his Mary to come home from work, he walked in and around the pool tables in the billiards room, cue in hand, balls in play on the felt, mind . . . back on that vacant lot. That little girl.
Man, destiny could be a real bitch, he thought.
“—talked to him just now.” Leaning over the table, Vishous performed a re-rack, getting things set for the next game. “He wanted to know if we needed more guns.”
Trying to focus, Rhage frowned. “I thought Assail was a drug dealer?”
“Branching out, evidently.” Vishous picked up a chalk square and blued his tip. “What do you think?”
“The new training class is coming in soon, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Might make sense to do a test order on some autoloaders.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Rhage braced his hip against the table as V bent down and cracked the triangle into pieces. As the colored balls rolled all over the place, Rhage shook his head.
“You see that elephant gun Evale had at Brownswick?”
Those diamond eyes lifted. “Fuck, yeah. We need to get us one of those, true.”
“Just on principle. Think of the target practice.”
“Yeah, we could strap a small car to Lassiter’s back and make him run around by the pool—”
“Hey,” the fallen angel called out from one of the sofas. “I’m in here, assholes.”
Rhage glanced over at the guy. “You’re awake, huh.”
The blond-and-black bastard sat up and yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “Time for my shift to start. Shit! I’m late. Gotta go.”
As Rhage and V watched the angel take off at a dead run, both of them cursed.
“You know,” Rhage muttered, “it’s getting really hard to hate him.”
“Just think of Punky Brewster. Everything will recalibrate.” Vishous prowled around the table, his massive body moving like a panther in his leathers and his muscle shirt. “And fuck me, I never thought I’d know that show.”
V made quick work of things, all kinds of pockets getting filled—but he flubbed it three strokes later.
“Hollywood? My brother, it’s all you.”
Rhage tried to refocus, but he just couldn’t get Bitty off his mind. After a moment, he looked across the green felt, and was glad that all of the doggen were in the kitchen and dining room—and that most of the other brothers hadn’t arrived home quite yet.
And hey, he was always glad when Lassiter left a room.
“What,” V said. “And do I need to light up first.”
“You ever . . .” Rhage cleared his throat. “You ever think about having a kid, V?”
“No. Why?”
As the guy stared back, it was as if Rhage had asked him whether or not he needed a new toaster. Some laundry done. An oil change.
“You don’t ever wonder what it would be like to be a father?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.” Vishous shrugged. “Not sure why you’re asking.”
“There’ve been some kids, you know, coming into this household.”
“So?”
“That doesn’t affect you at all?” When V shook his head, Rhage frowned. “What about Doc Jane? Does she want them?”
“Okay, first, she can’t have any. And second, she’s never mentioned it to me. Ever. She’s mated to her job—hell, her idea of a romantic birthday present is a new autoclave. And I fucking love that about her.”
“But what if she changed her mind?”
“She won’t.”
“How do you know that?” As V just blinked a couple of times, Rhage waved his hand. “Sorry. None of that’s my fucking business.”
“Is this why you got problems with your Mary? And don’t play. It’s been obvious—she want kids?”