Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Isla

M y eyes opened slowly and I frowned. I was lying in bed, wrapped up in Butcher's arms. Why was I awake? I didn't normally have trouble sleeping, and Butcher had made sure that I was both worn out and satisfied right before we'd both fallen asleep. Then I realized it was a sound that woke me. Murder was growling low in her throat. I forced my breathing to stay even and deep as I strained to listen. There was a sound, whatever had alerted Murder. A shuffling sound of someone moving. Someone was in Butcher's room with us.

I reached over and put my hand on her side, silently asking her to wait and not attack yet. There were times I was sure this cat was telepathic. As soon as I touched her, she laid back down and stopped growling, willing to allow me to take care of this nonsense that was waking her up so early.

It was pitch black, still the middle of the night, so as long as I didn't move too fast, I wouldn't alert whoever it was. I reached out to the nightstand and breathed a little easier when my hand wrapped around Stabby. There were more sounds as the person moved across the room toward the closet. The closet that was full of weapons.

Odd. They were light on their feet, barely making a sound with each foot step. At the same time, she didn't seem to be worried about being caught. She was muffling giggles and an occasional snort slipped out. Who the fuck was this? If she was an assassin she wouldn't be for long.

I disentangled myself from Butcher's arms, swinging my legs over the bed. As quietly as I could, I stood and followed after the woman. The room wasn't that big, but since it was so dark I wanted to make sure I hit her when I threw my knife. I crept up to the closet and readied myself. "Name."

The scream was so loud I moved backward a whole step before I realized what I was doing. Somehow, she'd managed to scare the shit out of me with that screech. Of all the times I'd held a knife to someone's throat, not one ever screamed like this chick. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so confused.

"What the fuck?" Butcher bellowed, turning the bedside lamp on.

Murder lifted her head, content to watch the humans sort their shit out on their own.

Squinting at the bright light, I stared at the woman in the closet. She was still screaming. "Stop it!"

She didn't stop. In fact, she got even louder. She was crouched down in the corner next to Butcher's massive gun safe. And her pants were down around her ankles. Her screams cut off abruptly and turned into sobbing whimpers. Then the smell hit me. She was peeing. In the closet, on herself and on everything under her.

Turning my head I came nose to barrel with a gun. Butcher was holding it, glaring down at the woman in the closet. "Who are you and why the fuck are you in my room?"

The woman was sobbing too hard to answer, but she was still crouched in the corner.

Butcher wrinkled his nose. "What the fuck?"

"You scared the piss right out of her," I told him, trying not to laugh. The look he shot me told me that he didn't find this funny. I bit the insides of my lips, trying to hold back the laughter that was fighting to escape.

The door opened behind us, and Butcher glared over his shoulder. "Does this belong to you?"

"Whoops, yeah, that's mine," Toxic slurred. "Was wondering where she went. She was looking for the bathroom... Is she pissing in your closet?"

"Dammit Toxic," Butcher muttered. "I could've fucking shot her."

"I didn't know she could get lost in such a small fucking room, let alone find her way out of my room and into, well…yours," he complained, as he moved past us to help the woman up. He sniffed the air. "Glad she found your closet instead of mine."

"Keep your fucking strippers contained to your room," Butcher snapped. "And you're buying me new of whatever she pissed on."

"I have a rubber mat in my closet, I'm surprised you don't have one."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Drunk women," he replied as if that answered my questioning look.

"I don't let mine stay the night," Butcher said matter of factly, then recognition dawned and he turned to me. "I mean, I have no need for something like that, because…"

"Quit while drowning, Big Guy," Toxic told him with a pat on his shoulder.

I should have scolded Butcher but I just had to ask, "Toxic, does this happen often enough that you really need a pee mat in your closet?"

He was trying to pick the girl up. She went from sobbing and peeing to unconscious limp jelly fish in just a couple of seconds. He juggled her body, trying, and failing, to get her off the ground without getting any pee on himself. Her head lolled back as he shifted her until he was holding her comfortably in his arms. "Oh yeah, you'd be amazed. One in three is a closet pisser," he told me. He didn't seem at all fazed about what was happening.

"Seriously?" I asked, so stunned, and slightly disgusted, at the whole thing that I just about forgot that I nearly stabbed an innocent woman in the closet.

His smile was borderline evil as he tried to reposition the woman. "You think we're a bad, rowdy bunch, but drunk women, heh, y'all can't handle your liquor."

There was something else there in his eyes. He was hiding something. "One in three? There's like six other women living here."

He had the woman up off the ground again, non pee side in his arms. He winked at me. "That's right."

"That would mean…"

Now his smile was infectious. "I'm not the only one with a rubber mat in his closet."

"Enough!" Butcher bellowed. "Get her the fuck out of here. And make sure that tomorrow my closet doesn't smell like piss." Butcher looked over at me and caught the expression on my face. "He's kidding," he told me, then paused, "I hope."

"At least go grab my door for me," Toxic complained.

"Why'd you shut it?"

"With the hellions on the loose?" Toxic asked as if that was a dumb question. "They'd rob me blind."

"Like they can't work a door handle," Butcher muttered as he stalked after Toxic.

"Watch her head-" I winced as Toxic cracked the woman's head against the doorframe. "Never mind." She was going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow, among other problems.

Shaking my head, I scrunched my nose as I went back and sat on the bed. I was just glad I didn't sleep in the nude. That would've been a hell of a situation if I'd just had to have that conversation while naked.

Murder crawled into my lap, laying her head on my thigh as we waited for Butcher to come back. Enough time passed that I was just about to get up to go find him when he and Priest came through the door.

"Damn. That stinks," Priest muttered.

"That's why we need a new room for the night," Butcher told him. "Any available? "

"Of course. There's an apartment next door that's empty. You can take that one. Sheets, blankets, and pillows are in the closets, you just have to make the bed. Jenny goes through every couple of weeks and washes everything to make sure it's all clean and ready to go for anyone who needs it."

"Remind me to thank her," Butcher told him. "I can sleep on the floor if necessary, but I'd rather not make Isla do that."

Priest laughed, shaking his head in bemusement.

"What?" I asked, curious why he looked so perplexed.

"Just never thought I'd see the day when Butcher would care about a woman's comfort. At least not one he was keeping. Really never thought I'd see him claim one," Priest replied.

That seemed to irritate Butcher. "Alright. Thanks for the help, now get the fuck out."

"Claim?" I asked as Priest walked toward the door.

He smirked over at Butcher. "I'll let you explain that one to her."

"Thanks a lot, asshole," Butcher told him, giving him a shove out the door. He looked over his shoulder at me. "You grab the cat. I'll get her water and litter box. We'll get everything else tomorrow."

Clutching Murder to my chest, I followed him out the door and into the new apartment. It was a lot bigger, like the other women had, with a kitchen and three bedrooms.

"What did Priest mean?" I asked as we walked into the master bedroom and I set Murder down to explore.

Butcher groaned. "He was just being a dick. He likes to play matchmaker now that he's got his old lady."

I frowned at that. "Why did you keep me those first few days?"

He took sheets, blankets, and pillows from the bedroom closet and placed them on top of the dresser, then handed me half the bottom sheet.

A strange emotion welled up in my chest as we made the bed together so that we could go to sleep. It was so…ordinary. Something neither of us was.

"I liked you." I arched a brow at him and he shrugged. "Still do."

But not enough to claim me. At least that was the feeling I was getting since he couldn't shove Priest out the door fast enough. I was going to have to ask the other women about it because Butcher had clammed up so fast I knew I wasn't getting anything else out of him. I could guess, of course, claiming kind of defined itself, but I wasn't sure what it meant for bikers. And I was curious.

And maybe a little hopeful. Which was dumb. This man wasn't the type to get married and settle down. Neither was I, if I was being honest. Besides, I was supposed to be guarding my heart, not hoping he'd want to keep it forever.

As we climbed into bed and he pulled me back into his arms, his favorite way to sleep apparently, I tried to talk my heart off the ledge. The last thing I needed was to fall in love with Butcher. I had a life to go back to after this. Of course, it wasn't much of a life. I wasn't sure who was going to hire an assassin who'd turned against her client, killed a ton of other assassins, and shacked up with the mark.

But that was a problem for another day. At least with us taking out most of my competition there might be a great enough demand that I could get back to business as usual once all this was over. I'd figure something out, but it wasn't going to include a sexy, hazel-eyed, biker.