Dark Lover

Wrath's sole focus was getting to Beth. So it wasn't until he was halfway across the courtyard that he heard the human behind him.

"Police! Halt!"

And then there was that all-too-familiar sound of a gun being cocked at him.

"Let me see your hands!"

Wrath caught the man's scent and smiled. Lust had been replaced with aggression, and the fighting urge was as strong as the sexual one had been. The guy was full of juice tonight.

"I said, halt and hands!"

Wrath stopped and reached into his jacket for one of the stars. Cop or not, he was going to drop the human, put a nice little slice through his artery.

But then Beth threw open the slider.

He smelled her instantly, and wouldn't you know it, he got a hard-on.

"Hands!"

"What's going on?" Beth demanded.

"Get back in the house," the human barked. "Hands, asshole! Or I'll put a window in the back of your skull."

By this time the cop was no more than ten feet away and closing fast. Wrath lifted his palms. He wasn't about to kill in front of Beth. Besides, that gun was going to be at point-blank range in another three seconds. And not even he could survive a hit that tight.

"O'Neal¡ª"

"Beth, get the fuck out of here!"

A heavy hand clamped down on Wrath's shoulder. He let the cop push him against the building.

"You want to tell me what you're doing waltzing around this place?" the human ordered.

"Out for a walk," Wrath said. "And you?"

The cop grabbed one and then the other of Wrath's arms and pulled them back. The cuffs went on quickly. The guy was an old pro with the metal.

Wrath looked over at Beth. From what he could tell, she had her arms linked tightly across her chest. Fear thickened the air around her, turning it into a blanket that covered her from head to foot.

Isn't this going well, he thought. She was scared to death of him again.

"Do not look at her," the cop said, pushing Wrath's face toward the wall. "What's your name?"

"Wrath," Beth answered. "He told me it was Wrath."

The human actually snarled at her. "Do you have a hearing problem, sweetheart? Get out of here."

"I want to know who he is, too."

"I'll phone in a fucking report tomorrow morning, how's that?"

Wrath growled. He couldn't deny that getting her inside was a damn good idea. But he did not appreciate the way the cop was talking to her.

The human reached inside Wrath's jacket and started pulling out weapons. Three throwing stars, a switchblade, a handgun, a length of chain.

"Jesus Christ," the cop muttered as he dropped the steel links on the ground with the rest of the load. "You got some ID? Or wasn't there enough room in here for a wallet, considering you're carrying about thirty pounds of concealed weapons?"

When the cop found a thick wad of cash, he cursed again. "Am I going to find drugs, too, or have you sold out for tonight?"

Wrath allowed himself to be spun around and slammed back against the bricks. While his two daggers were stripped from their holster, he stared down at the cop, thinking how much he was going to enjoy ripping that thick throat open with his teeth. He leaned forward, leading with his head. He couldn't help it.

"O'Neal, be careful!" Beth said, as if she'd read his mind.

The cop pressed his gun muzzle into Wrath's neck. "So how about a name?"

"Are you arresting me?"

"Yeah. I am."

"For what?"

"Let me think. Trespassing. Concealed weapons. Do you have a permit for that handgun? I'm betting no. Oh, and thanks to all these throwing stars, I'm thinking murder, too. Yeah, that should do it."

"Murder?" Beth whispered.

"Your name?" the cop demanded, glaring up at him.

Wrath smiled tightly. "You must be clairvoyant."

"'Scuse me?"

"About the murder charge." Wrath laughed softly and dropped his voice. "You ever been inside a body bag, Officer?"

Rage, pure and vibrant, came out of the man's pores. "Don't threaten me."

"I'm not."

The left hook came through the air fast as a baseball, and Wrath did nothing to avoid it. The cop's meaty fist caught the side of his jaw and kicked his head back. A sunburst of pain exploded in his face.

"Butch! Stop it!"

Beth ran forward, as if she intended to put herself between them, but the cop held her off, strong-arming her.

"Jesus, you're a pain in the ass! You want to get hurt?" the human said, pushing her away.

Wrath spat out blood. "He's right. Go inside."

'Cause this was going to get ugly.

Thanks to catching a blurry eyeful of that makeout session, he didn't like the cop to begin with. But if the guy addressed Beth one more time in that tone of voice, Wrath was going to show the man's front teeth the joy of liberation. And then he was going to kill the son of a bitch.

"Go on, Beth," he said.

"Shut up!" the cop yelled at him.

"You going to hit me again if I don't?"

The cop crawled up into his face. "No, I'm going to shoot you."

"Fine with me. I like bullet wounds." Wrath lowered his voice. "Just not in front of her."

"Fuck you."

But the cop covered the weapons and cash by throwing his coat over them. Then he grabbed Wrath's arm and started walking.

Beth felt as though she were going to be sick as Butch led Wrath away.

Aggression was flowing between the men like battery acid, and even though Wrath was handcuffed and being held at gunpoint, she wasn't exactly sure Butch was safe. She had a feeling that Wrath was letting himself get taken into custody.

But Butch must know that, she thought. Otherwise he would have holstered his weapon instead of having its muzzle pressed up against that temple.

She knew Butch was tough on criminals, but was he crazy enough to kill one?

Going by the deadly expression on his face, she had to think that was a big yes. And he might just get away with it. Violent ends came to those who lived hard lives, and Wrath was clearly not a white-collar law abider. If he turned up with a bullet in his head in some back alley, or floating facedown in the river, who would be surprised?

Giving in to a shrill instinct, she ran around the side of the building.

Butch was marching toward his car as if he were carrying an unstable load, and she rushed to catch up with them.

"Wait. I need to ask him a question."

"You want to know his shoe size or something?" Butch snapped.

"Fourteen," Wrath drawled.

"I'll remember that at Christmas, asshole."

Beth leaped in front of them so both men had to stop or run her over. She stared up into Wrath's face. "Why did you come to find me?"

She could have sworn that his gaze softened behind his sunglasses. "I don't want it to come out like this."

Butch shoved her away with a heavy hand. "I have an idea. Why don't you let me do my job?"

"Don't touch her," Wrath snarled.

"Yeah, I'm going to listen to you." Butch yanked the other man forward.

When they got to the car, Butch wrenched open the rear door and pushed Wrath's towering weight down.

"Who are you!" she yelled.

Wrath looked at her, his body becoming perfectly still in spite of the fact that Butch was all over him.

"Your father sent me," he said distinctly. And then he got into the backseat.

Beth stopped breathing.

She was dimly aware of Butch slamming the door and running around to the driver's side.

"Wait!" she called out.

But the car was already in gear, tires leaving strips of rubber on the asphalt.