A Warm Heart in Winter by J.R. Ward

Author:J.R. Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2020-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Qhuinn had a spring in his step as he came through the training center’s office. Night had fallen, First Meal was through, and he was off rotation. The storm had passed, the damage to the house had been repaired, and everybody was safe.

He’d also gotten no sleep during the day. For the very best reasons.

He and Blay had spent the daylight hours getting very naked up in their bedroom. It was amazing how many positions there were, and how many different places you could get it on: In the bed, of course. In the tub. The shower. The walk-in closet—which had been a surprise. Who knew that rug burns could be such a trophy?

He was walking funny from them. And wasn’t that awesome.

Out in the corridor, he went by the weight room, and when he heard music banging, he leaned inside. “You’re a fucking beast, Hollywood.”

Across the floor mats and through the thickets of lifting machines, a shirtless Rhage was in the middle of a set of chin-ups on the bar, and with every up-and-down the brother did, that tattoo of a dragon across his back moved and seethed along with his flexing muscles.

“You know it,” the brother gritted out.

With a wave, Qhuinn kept going. Down past the exam rooms and the OR, he stopped at the last door that was part of the clinic area. Tugging his sweatshirt into proper place over his Adidas training pants, he made sure his hair was not completely crazy.

Although no amount of brushing was going to hide the fact that part of it was the color of Violet Beauregarde.

Not that it mattered to Luchas. Still, old family habits died hard, even when they weren’t necessary anymore.

Knocking with his knuckles, he then pushed his way in. “Luchas, my man, how are—”

Qhuinn paused. No one was in the patient room. But at least the wheelchair was parked in the corner. So the male was using his cane as he’d been told to.

“Good,” Qhuinn murmured. Then louder, “Luchas, you in the loo?”

The door over there was closed, but there was no shower running. No sink, either. Content to wait, Qhuinn sat down in his brother’s reading chair and chilled, taking out his phone. After checking his email, he looked to the bathroom.

“Luchas? You okay in there?”

Getting to his feet, he put his phone away and walked to the door. Leaning into the panel, he listened. “Luchas?”

When he knocked and there was no answer, his throat closed up. “I’m coming in, Luchas—”

As he pushed his way inside, the motion-activated lights came on. No one was there, either: The bathtub was dry. The towels were folded precisely on the rods. The toothbrush, toothpaste, and shaving accoutrements were all orderly around the sink. A surge of paranoia made him open the shower stall’s frosted door. Just in case. But there was no blood from a cracked-open head. No body, either.

Just as he started to worry, he exhaled in relief and felt like a fucking fool.

Heading back out into

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