Reign of Wrath (Dirty Broken Savages #3)(24)

“Do we have any idea what all he has his fingers in?” Priest wants to know.

“I’ve seen him go to a few places,” I say, speaking up. “When I was tailing him before.”

That seems like a long time ago now. Following Julian around Detroit, watching him take meetings and make deals and whatever else. Like life is split into befores and afters and everything before Hannah’s death might as well have happened to a different person.

“We can make some assumptions from the places, probably,” Gage says. “We’ll have to figure out what shit he’s got going on so we can figure out how to take it down.”

“Oh,” I say, grimacing as I remember something else. “He’s also fucking his damn sister. So we can use that against him too.”

Ash shudders, and the rest of them look visibly disgusted by that. Before he killed Hannah, that was pretty high on the list of the worst things about Julian fucking Maduro, but now it’s just a drop in the bucket. Just one more thing to use to ruin him.

Gage nods. “We’ll use that when the time comes. I think we have enough to get started, at least. We can look into the gym more, find out how it operates and who goes there. River, make a list of everywhere you saw Julian go and anyone you saw him with. We can check it against what we know about the city and maybe it’ll give us some leads. In the meantime, we can find out what else he has going on. If he has too many irons in the fire, there might be some loose ends we can tug on. See what comes unraveled in the process.”

He sounds confident, and all the others are nodding along. It’s a good plan, and we have something to go on to get started, at least.

Gage’s voice is strong and deep and soothing, but as he’s talking, I can’t fight the exhaustion that’s been pulling at me since the shower. Things start to go blurry around the edges, and the sound of his voice starts to get farther away, as if he’s talking through a tunnel instead of right at the kitchen table.

My body feels heavy, like I could drop right then and there in the kitchen, and I reach out to steady myself against the counter, leaning on it for support.

I’m too tired to fight it, and trying to shove it back doesn’t help. My force of will can’t keep the exhaustion at bay.

All of the guys notice, of course. Gage stops talking and pins me with a look, and Priest and Ash are out of their chairs before anyone has time to say anything.

Ash grabs my arm, offering additional support, and Priest scans my face again. I know he’s going to see how worn out I am, and he’s going to make me go to bed.

He looks me over and then looks back to Gage without a word. But clearly they don’t need to talk.

“That’s enough for now,” Gage says firmly.

I open my mouth, not even planning to argue, but before I can get a word out, Knox folds his arms and gives me his own stern look.

“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you upstairs,” he says. “Because I will. And you know I’ll enjoy the fuck out of it.”

“He will,” Ash agrees, shrugging one shoulder. “Sorry, killer. He’s just a big caveman at heart. And none of us will stop him.”

Priest looks back to me, and he doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have to. I know if I try to tell them I’m fine and don’t need to rest, they’ll make good on letting Knox cart me off.

I can see the possessiveness and protectiveness in all of their faces, the worry that makes them want to take care of me—even if that means forcing me to take care of myself. There’s nothing I can do to convince them it’s not needed, and honestly, I’m too tired to even try.

“Fine,” I agree, nodding and leaning into Ash’s hold on me. “You’re right.”

“Whoa. Write that down,” Ash says, giving me a lopsided grin. “She said we were right about something. This is a historic day.”

Gage sighs and shakes his head, and I step away from Ash and Priest and head out of the kitchen before Knox can scoop me up.

The exhaustion is all the way down to my bones now, threatening to pull me under before I even get to the stairs, but I keep going. When I reach the second level of the house and start making my way to my room, I realize there are footsteps following behind me.

I don’t have to turn around and see his face to know that it’s Priest. I can feel his presence behind me, and I know he’s the only one so good at projecting his feelings without saying anything.

He closes the door to my bedroom once we step inside, and when I flop onto the bed, he lies down beside me and pulls me into his arms.

I go gratefully, letting his familiar scent and warmth mix with the tiredness, finally giving in when it pulls me down into sleep.





9





River





I’m back in the alley again.

Julian stands there in front of me, anger and hate on his face. He opens his mouth to curse me, to tell me he should have killed me when he had the chance the first time—but when he speaks, it’s not his voice I hear.

Instead, it’s his father’s voice.

Lorenzo Maduro, whose voice I heard so many times when he held us in captivity that I could pick it out of a crowd immediately.

“Come here then, pretty.”

Julian’s face is a mask of frustration and spite, but the words are slippery. Oily with fake comfort and affection. A trap in every sense of the word.