Reign of Wrath (Dirty Broken Savages #3)(12)

Where the fuck are you, River? Where did you go?

Harv grumbles something, but then I pick up the faint sound of a mechanical keyboard clacking through the phone, so he’s clearly doing it.

I stop at a red light, and Knox’s leg bouncing gets even worse. I clench and unclench my hands on the steering wheel, trying to focus on breathing and not letting my irritation get the better of me.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” Knox snaps when we get moving again.

This time I can hear Harv clearly when he says, “It’s a big fucking area, and I’m trying not to miss her. Keep your pants on.”

Apparently, our usually shy hacker friend is bolder and surlier at night—probably from being woken up at ass o’clock. Knox just grits his teeth, holding in his rage better than he normally would because we need Harv’s help.

He puts the phone on speaker and settles it in the center console, and I pull into an empty lot to wait. No use driving around aimlessly until we know where to go. Several long minutes tick by, and I swear every second takes a year off my goddamn life.

If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what we’ll do.

I don’t know how the fuck we’ll find her.

“Got her,” Harv says at last. “Silver hair, tattoos like you described. She’s just… walking. She left your house on foot, and she passed by a convenience store about an hour ago.”

He rattles off two cross streets, and that’s enough of a bearing that I pull back onto the road, heading in the direction he indicated.

“Did she stay on that path?” Knox wants to know.

“Seems like it. She just kept walking… walking… walking. Ah! There. Crappy dive bar called O’Malley’s. She went in, and… it doesn’t seem like she left.”

“Got it,” Knox says.

He hangs up the phone without so much as a thank you, and I gun it down the street as he looks up the bar’s location on his phone. It’s late as fuck now, and the glowing numbers on the clock in the car tick closer to four in the morning as Knox tells me where to go.

We finally pull up outside a run-down looking dive bar. I park a few doors down, and we get out, making our way inside.

The bar is almost entirely empty, and a new wave of worry floods me as I scan the dim interior for signs of her.

Did she slip out the back? Was Harv following the wrong girl through his pieced-together snippets of security footage?

But then I spot a fall of silver hair near the back of the place.

I elbow Knox and jerk my chin toward her, and we start in that direction. Once we’re close enough, I can see that it truly is River.

She’s slumped over a table at a booth in the back, and a man with greasy hair and wandering hands is sitting next to her, trying to feel her up.

Rage lights in my soul, building off the anger that was already there. As one, Knox and I stride toward River and the slimy fucker who sits close to her.

His hand is on her side, sliding up her shirt slowly, like he’s worried if he moves too fast, she might wake up. He’s so absorbed in it that he doesn’t even notice the two of us before it’s too late.

I grab him and yank him away from River and out of the booth. He splutters, trying to say something, and the smell of alcohol hits me like a wave. Before he can get a word out, I shove him over to Knox.

Knox gives him a savage grin that would shake even the hardest people to their core. He grabs the fucker’s face roughly and gets close to him.

“Seems like someone missed it when the rest of us learned about not touching people without their fucking permission,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “So why don’t you come with me, and we’ll have a little fucking chat about manners.”

The guy tries to argue, but Knox’s grip is unbreakable as he drags the asshole outside through the back door.

“Hey,” the bartender calls, leaning over the bar to look at me as the door slams shut behind Knox and his prey. “Not in my fucking bar.”

I shoot him a cold look, letting him see how unimpressed I am by his attempt to act like he gives a shit.

“You seem to be pretty fucking good at ignoring what’s going on in your bar,” I tell him with a snarl in my voice. “So you can ignore everything that’s about to happen too.”

I’m not even sure what my face looks like in this moment, but it’s probably reflecting the murderous anger I feel. The bartender stares at me for a second, and I wait to see if he’s going to press the issue.

He doesn’t. Instead, he shrinks back behind the bar and starts wiping it down, not making eye contact with me.

Good. That leaves me free to focus on River.

She seems almost catatonic, her eyes closed as she remains slumped over the table. Gently, I reach for her, and she doesn’t even try to fight me off. That’s a sure sign that she’s out of it. She’s punched people in the face for less. I tug her from the seat, and she comes with me, stumbling to her feet.

Her eyes open, but it hardly makes any difference. It’s like there’s nothing behind them. She stares blankly, unseeing, and my stomach churns with dread. I don’t know if it’s the booze or everything that’s going on inside her that has her almost dead to the world, but either way, I don’t fucking like it.

“Come on,” I murmur to her, pulling her along.