Father Mine: Zsadist and Bella's Story by J. R. Ward Read Free Book Online

I’LL GIVE YOU
THE ADDRESS WHEN WE’RE SETTLED LATER TONIGHT.
     
     
    Outside the air was cool, and Z dragged the shit into his lungs in hopes of calming his stomach. He was taken directly to the Hummer and settled in the back, along with the civilian who had passed out cold. John, Blay, and Qhuinn piled in, and then there was a stretch of hurry-up-and-wait.
     
    Finally Rhage bolted from the house, flashed three fingers and a fist, and dove into the shotgun seat. While the brother started texting on his phone, Qhuinn hit the gas and once again proved he had half a brain: The guy had been smart enough to back in so he had a straight shot down the driveway, and he took the way out with a vengeance.
     
    Rhage looked at his watch as they bumped along. “Four . . . three . . . two . . .”
     
    The house behind them exploded into a fireball, the aftershocks sending waves of buffering energy through the air—
     
    Just as a minivan full of the enemy pulled into the end of the driveway, blocking the way onto Route 9.
     
     
    Bella double-checked the two L.L. Bean bags and was pretty sure she had everything she needed for the short term. In the one with the green handles she had some clothes for herself, along with her cell phone charger, her toothbrush, and two thousand dollars in cash. The blue-handled one had Nalla’s clothes, bottles and diapers, along with wet wipes, rash cream, blankies, a teddy bear, and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss.
     
    The title of Nalla’s favorite book was a shitkicker on a night like tonight. It really was.
     
    When there was a knock on the nursery door, Bella called out, “Come in.” Mary, Rhage’s shellan, popped her head in. Her face was tight, her gray eyes grim even before she looked down at the bags.
     
    “Rhage texted me. Z’s been injured. I know you’re going to leave, and the why is none of my business, but you might consider waiting. From what Rhage said, Z is desperately going to need to feed.”
     
    Bella slowly straightened. “How . . . how badly injured? What—”
     
    “I don’t have any more details other than that they’ll be home as soon as they can.”
     
    Oh . . . God. It was the news she had always dreaded. Z injured out in the field.
     
    “What’s their ETA?”
     
    “Rhage didn’t say. I know they have to drop off an injured civilian at Havers’s new clinic, but that’s on the way. I’m not sure whether Z’s getting treated here or there.”
     
    Bella shut her eyes. Zsadist had sent her that text while injured. He’d been reaching out to her when he was in pain . . . and she’d slapped him back with the fact that she was abandoning him to his demons.
     
    “What have I done,” she said softly.
     
    “I’m sorry?” Mary asked.
     
    Bella shook her head as much at herself as in response to the female.
     
    Going over to the crib, she looked at their daughter. Nalla was sleeping with the hard, dense exhaustion of the young, her little chest pumping up and down with purpose, her pink hands curled into fists, her brows bunched together as if she were concentrating on growing.
     
    “Will you stay with her?” Bella asked.
     
    “Absolutely.”
     
    “There’s milk in the fridge over there.”
     
    “I’ll be right here. I won’t go anywhere.”
     
     
    Back in the driveway of the Jolly Green Giant house in the sticks, Z felt the heavy-duty lurch of Qhuinn slamming on the Hummer’s brakes. The SUV held steady as the laws of physics gripped its mass hard, putting an end to its acceleration just before the vehicle crushed the frontal lobe of the minivan in its path.
     
    Gun muzzles came out of the windows of the Lessening Society’s soccer-mom special like the bitch was a stagecoach, and bullets went ape shit, pinging the Hummer’s reinforced-steel body and ricocheting off its inch-thick Plexiglas windows.
     
    “Second night out with my ride,” Qhuinn spat. “And these fuckers are Swisscheesing me? Hell, no. Hold