Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3) (7 page)

"What?" I croaked. Yeah, my voice isn't the best when I wake up, and my hair probably looked like birds had nested in it.

"Better," Hank rumbled against my shoulder. "It's nearly noon. Kathleen Rome is out buying clothes for you and Trina is making lunch."

"Huh?" I attempted to slide away from Hank. He nuzzled his way toward my breasts and held onto me tighter when I tried to get away. "Why is Trina making lunch? Where the hell are we?"

"At Jayson's. Your house is surrounded by the media, right now."

"But what about your condo?" My mind was fuzzy, and the last memory I had was of Hank's mouth on mine. He'd kissed me for the first time, and I'd been unconscious during most of it.

"This is safer. Much safer. Plus, Trina, Kathleen and Jayson can help me keep an eye on you."

"Hank, I don't want to be mothered or smothered," I grumped, still trying to get away from him.

"Shh," Hank lowered his head and gripped a nipple in his teeth. Yeah, that got my attention right away. One of his hands wandered between my legs. "Oh, yeah. Yes. Yes, yes, yes," he breathed as his fingers made their way inside.

* * *

"That T-shirt doesn't do anything for you." Those were Trina's first words to me when I appeared in Jayson's kitchen. I hugged her for them. There was no
where have you been, or how did you live through that
or any other nonsense. It was just Trina, and I appreciated that more than I could say.

"I agree, olive green doesn't do a thing for me," I grinned at Trina after I hugged her. "It looks good on Hank, though."

"Hank would look good wearing burlap," Trina nodded. "Want lunch?"

"What do you have?" I lifted an eyebrow at Trina. She'd cut her hair since I'd seen her last, and added highlights. It looked good. I told her that as we put soup and sandwiches together.

"This soup is awesome," I muttered after my first bite. Trina had cooked vegetable soup for me, and it was exceptional.

We'd all settled around the kitchen island to eat—Hank beside me, Trina on the opposite side so we could talk. That's where Kathleen Rome and Dan, her driver/bodyguard, found us a few minutes later.

Trina and I got food set in front of Kathleen, who wanted to fuss about it but held back. Dan merely nodded his thanks and started eating. He'd carried a carload of bags into the house, so he was likely starving anyway.

"Breanne, we've missed you," Kathleen murmured after taking a few judicious sips of her soup. "Trina, this food is excellent, as always."

"My pleasure," Trina grinned at Kathleen.

"Bree, I bought everything I could think of. If any of it doesn't fit or you don't like it, we'll return it," Kathleen turned to me.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I said, studying her face as she went back to her food. I thought about reading her, then quickly changed my mind. I didn't want to see horror, overwhelming sympathy or guilt there. It would make me uncomfortable. All I wanted was for things to be as they were—before that stupid book's release.

"We can wash what needs to be washed this afternoon," Trina said. "After you try it on." She lifted an eyebrow at me, tacitly telling me I
would
be trying on the clothes Kathleen bought.

"Fine," I said.

"It better be fine. Ms. Rome probably spent a fortune on you."

"You're right. Thank you, Kathleen. I have no manners, in addition to no brain cells, obviously." I offered Kathleen a wobbly smile.

"Don't even worry about it," Kathleen waved away my thanks, but her shoulders relaxed visibly.

Hank left in one of Jayson's many automobiles to check on the club after lunch, leaving me to try on clothes while Trina and Kathleen Rome passed judgment on the purchases. I was allowed to keep two-thirds of it. The rest was placed in a return pile, and Kathleen told me she'd already made arrangements with a sales associate at the high-end department store where she'd bought clothing and shoes for me.

"It won't be a problem—I told her they were gifts and that some of it would likely be returned. It happens often," Kathleen shrugged. "Dan will take it back tomorrow."

We washed clothing after that—what needed it, anyway. I wanted to hug Kathleen for thinking of jeans, socks, athletic shoes and pullovers, in addition to the dresses, slacks, blazers and heels. Trina washed jeans and pullovers for me, right after the underwear came out. I folded, Kathleen supervised and Trina kept a conversation going.

Yes, it might seem stereotypical that Trina worked as Jayson's housekeeper, but she appreciated the fact that she could call him an ass to his face—when he was being an ass—and he'd laugh and agree with her. Jayson was an interesting paradox at times, and I just shook my head at all of it as Trina told us funny stories while clean clothes went into my borrowed closet.

"He really didn't know," Trina blinked dark eyes at me as we settled around the kitchen island for a before-dinner drink. "He growled at everybody for six months after that. Bree, it made him sick. Really."

"Yeah." I hunched my shoulders.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about that. If you did, I would have heard about it before. I get that. If you need anything to get you through how people are gonna treat you now, just let me know. We can go to movies, shop on the Internet or just plain get drunk."

"The drunk thing doesn't sound bad," I gulped the wine I'd poured for myself.

"You can stay with me in Tahoe, if you need to get away," Kathleen offered. She'd accepted a glass of red wine—said it was better for her heart.

"I can't believe you cook meat, since you're vegetarian," Trina said when I rose to baste the game hens roasting in the oven.

"I cooked for Joyce's twins. They weren't vegetarian. Rice, pasta and beans is always cheaper. That's what I ate," I said, shutting the oven door and lowering the temperature.

"Breanne, do you know how horrible that sounds?" Kathleen's eyes were troubled.

"It suits me now," I shrugged. "I could change it, if I wanted. I don't want to."

"What's going on?" Jayson walked into the kitchen, followed by Hank.

"Cooking dinner," Kathleen rose to give Jayson a kiss on the cheek. "Breanne is cooking game hens for us."

"Bree?" Jayson turned a frown in my direction.

"I can cook it—I just don't eat it," I sighed. "I'm having a salad with fake chicken chunks and mashed potatoes with veggie gravy," I said.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. Hank and your mother both say you didn't know. I believe them."

"Would you have believed me if I said the same thing first?"

"I hope so," I stared at my wineglass. "Although I feel the need to be really drunk right now."

"Bree, you're with friends. You don't have to get drunk unless you want to," Jayson said.

"Baby, don't be uncomfortable. We don't want you to feel that way," Hank pulled me off my barstool and hugged me.

* * *

"Packed? I found this military jet going our way," Bill grinned at Opal.

"Yeah. Two cases."

"Good. Let's go."

"I'm glad Hank asked us to come before we started begging," Opal nodded.

"We have a ride set up when we get there," Bill said. "They'll take us to Jayson Rome's place. I'm putting some discreet guards in place, too. They'll be watching that hill while Breanne's there. I don't want those snakes to get anywhere near her."

"You read those stupid websites too, didn't you?" Opal flipped long black hair over a shoulder and blinked once at Bill.

"Yeah. The conspiracy theorists are not only calling this a staged event, some are threatening Bree's life. They say she's an imposter and they're going hunting. Honestly, I have no idea where some of these fucked-up assholes come from. The truth is staring them in the face and they still don't believe it."

* * *

"Rome, we need to make room for two more," Hank said. He and Jayson had gone into Jayson's study after dinner, leaving Breanne, Trina and Kathleen in the kitchen. All three women were talking while Bree and Trina cleared things away and cleaned the kitchen.

"Which two?" Jayson lifted an eyebrow at Hank.

"Bill Jennings and another agent. Breanne knows both, and will likely be glad to see them. With Jennings here, keeping Bree safe will be much easier. He can chase the media away if he wants."

"How much danger might she be in?"

"Jennings says that death threats are showing up on those conspiracy websites. We don't have a clue how serious any of these are, or who is behind them. Bill told me he had people on it, but it's a low priority at the moment. Breanne isn't connected to national security, and while the FBI would normally handle this, Jennings has a close working relationship with the FBI Director. He'll get additional resources if it becomes necessary."

"Joyce Christian is still torturing Breanne—even from the grave. Sometimes, I want to strangle the old man."

"You'll have to stand in line," Hank growled.

"Does she seem more timid?" Jayson blinked at Hank. "Bree, that is?"

"In some ways, yes. PTSD can do that. That book was a big trigger."

"You have more experience with that than I do," Jayson raked fingers through his hair. "How's the funeral planning going?"

"All right so far. I've had a few calls from the media, since John's family won't talk to any of them."

"This is so tough," Jayson sighed. "Even with all the notoriety lately, the lifestyle still has to be hidden. Too many don't have a clue."

"They get the wrong kind of clues, usually," Hank rumbled.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

My whole body ached. The day had been long—and stressful. I didn't feel as if I could just be me anymore. My past had been blown open for everybody to dissect, and it put me on edge, no matter how nice the people around me were. The tension and stress made my body ache.

I climbed into bed after a hot shower. I had no idea whether Hank would show up—he and Jayson were talking in Jayson's study. It was after eleven; I was tired and wanted to read in bed. Unless I misted to my house to get it, I didn't have my tablet to read the novel I'd started.

With my back against a padded headboard, I hugged a pillow and contemplated going after the item in question. If Hank discovered I was gone, he'd likely go nuts. If I told him what I wanted, he'd do his best to talk me out of it. There wasn't any way to win the argument and I knew it. While I was busy silently debating the whole thing, Hank and Jayson walked into my bedroom. Without knocking, I might add.

"I want to go get my e-reader," I said, while Hank announced, "We're coming to bed with you—to talk," at exactly the same moment.

"What?" all three of us said in unison.

"Hank, no," I said. "No offense, Jayson, but that's just," I didn't finish.

"Uncomfortable?" Jayson lifted an eyebrow. Yes, he was eye candy, but when he stood next to Hank, well, there was no comparison. Not to me, anyway.

"We just want to keep an eye on you, that's all," Hank said. "And ask questions."

"Jayson," I flopped a hand down beside me. "We can talk some other time. I'm exhausted."

"Bree, we just want to take care of you. Make sure you're safe. That's all. Hank told me about your disappearing trick. And a couple of other things I'm having trouble believing."

"Hank?" I stared at Hank in hurt surprise. No, I hadn't told him not to say anything, and he'd blabbed to Jayson fucking Rome. "Get out. Both of you," I snapped. Sliding off the bed, I went looking for the expensive silk kimono robe Kathleen had purchased for me. I pulled it on angrily while Hank and Jayson watched.

"Breanne, you're overreacting. Jayson will keep that information to himself, I promise," Hank said.

"Really, Hank? Do you know what the Council will do if they figure out I not only exist, but wasn't officially made—at least in their eyes?"

"Breanne," Hank said, a dark eyebrow lifting in surprise.

"Bree, I know about vampires. And werewolves. Hank told me two years ago. Right after you disappeared. Showed me some, too. Don't worry, we kept our distance," Jayson explained.

"Hank, what the hell?" I stared at him in shock.

"Baby, I told you I've seen scary stuff. I was special ops in the military. I just happened to have medical training, too. Sometimes I went into difficult situations because of that training. Nobody suspected I was anything other than a medic."

"Uh-huh," I crossed arms over my chest and glared skeptically at Hank.

"Baby, we're not gonna hurt you. We've told you that often enough."

"Sure. And that entails both of you getting in bed with me—to talk?"

"If we feel like it," Jayson sat on the left side of the bed and patted the mattress. At least they were still dressed. If they'd shown up in underwear, I probably would have freaked.

"What about the way I feel about it?" I demanded.

"Bree, you'll sit between us. Jayson isn't a total pig. If he falls asleep, he snores less than I do."