Father Mine by J. R. Ward Page B

the very best parts of the chicken breast and the homemade rolls and the broccoli spears for her.
    When the plate was clean and the wineglass empty, he wiped Bella’s mouth with a damask napkin as her lids fluttered down. Tucking her in, he kissed her, picked up the tray and his right shitkicker, and stepped out.
    As he closed the door quietly and heard the knob click, a glow of contentment bathed him. His females were fed and sleeping and safe. He’d done his job well.
    Job? Try mission in life.
    He glanced toward the nursery door and wondered whether, as a male, you bonded with your children or not. He’d always heard it was only with your shellan . . . but he was starting to have some serious protective instincts over Nalla. And he hadn’t even picked her up yet. Give him two weeks of getting familiar with her? He was liable to become an H-bomb if anything threatened her.
    Was that what being a father was like? He didn’t know. None of his brothers had young and there was no one else he could think of to ask.
    Heading for the stairs, he limped down the hall of statues, boot, cast, boot, cast, boot, cast. . . . and he looked at his wrists as he went along.
    Downstairs he took the dishes into the kitchen and thanked Fritz, then went into the tunnel that led to the training center. If Doc Jane had given up waiting on him, he was going to cut the cast off himself.
    Stepping out through the closet in the office, he heard the high whining sound of a table saw and followed the scream to the gym. On the way he was looking forward to seeing how Jane’s new clinic was coming along. The three treatment bays, which were being constructed out of one of the facility’s audience halls, were designed to function as either surgical suites or patient bays, and the equipment was going to be state of the art. Doc Jane was investing in a CAT scan, digital X-ray imaging, and ultrasound technology, along with an electronic medical records system and a host of hi-tech surgical tools. With a supply room worthy of a fully functioning emergency department, the goal was to circumvent the Brotherhood’s use of Havers’s clinic.
    Which was safer for everybody. The Brotherhood’s compound was surrounded by mhis, thanks to V, but the same couldn’t be said for where Havers practiced—as had been proven when the clinic was sacked over the summer. Considering that the Brothers could be tailed at any time, it was smart to keep as many things having to do with them in-house.
    Z cracked one of the gym’s metal doors open and paused. Yeah, whoa. Doc Jane evidently had some serious Extreme Home Makeover in her.
    Last night, when Z had been rolled in, everything had been as it always was. Now, less than twenty-four hours later, a six-foot-by-twelve-foot hole had been busted out of the cinder-block wall across the way. The opening exposed the audience hall that was going to be converted, and right in front of the chasm, V’s mate was taking a two-by-four and feeding it into a table saw, her hands solid, the rest of her ghostly transparent.
    When she caught sight of Z, she finished with the board and turned the machine off. “Hey!” she called out as the din faded. “You ready to have that cast removed?”
    â€œYeah. And clearly you’re good with a saw.”
    â€œYou better believe it.” She grinned and gestured toward the hole. “So, you like my interior decorating?”
    â€œYou don’t fool around.”
    â€œMasonry hammers rock, what can I say?”
    â€œI’m ready for the next board,” V hollered from the lecture hall.
    â€œIt’s ready.”
    V came out wearing a tool belt hung with a hammer and several chisels. As he went over to his female, he said, “Hey, Z, how’s your leg?”
    â€œGonna be better once Doc Jane takes this deadweight off.” Z nodded across the way. “Man, you guys are going to town.”
    â€œYeah, we