Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)
Eva Ashwood
1
RIVER
COLORED lights flash in time to the beat of the song thumping through the speakers. The patrons of the club I’m in grind on each other or hold drinks over their heads as they push their way through the crowd of tangled bodies, heading from the bar to the dance floor or over to the tables and couches pressed into one corner.
It’s one of the more popular clubs in Detroit, and I can tell why. The drinks keep flowing, the music is good, and the girls dancing in cages along the walls and over the bar are hot. Plenty of dudes lean against the bar, drooling all over themselves at the curvy women gyrating to the pulsing hip hop song blaring through the speakers, and the bartender keeps their drinks full so they don’t have a reason to leave.
In the quiet corners, hands are roaming, and the smell of arousal and sex is in the air. I don’t know what the rules are about getting it on right there on the dance floor, but they’re clearly not stopping people from groping and dry humping each other in the dim light.
I guess as long as the owners have their money, they don’t care too much what else the patrons get up to, as long as it’s not outwardly illegal. Or maybe they don’t care about that either. Who knows?
Sin and Salvation is a pretty fucking apt name for this place, considering that most of the people here are either looking to get fucked up and get into some trouble, or hiding from their real lives and looking for some excitement.
Except me.
Neither of those reasons are why I’m here.
Everyone else seems to be looking for distractions, but I’ve never been more focused. People move around me, and I don’t pay them any attention. They’re no concern of mine. I’m here for one reason—one person. And that person has already fucked me over once. I won’t let it happen again.
I can see my prey through a strobe of purple, on the other side of the dance floor near the lounge area, standing with a drink in his hand. I narrow my eyes, locking onto him, determined not to let him slip away. He’s a weaselly asshole with a pinched face and a slimy gaze. I should have known from the beginning that he was going to be nothing but trouble, but he sounded so sure—and to be honest, at the time I was desperate for any lead I could get.
Just looking at him pisses me off, and I clench one hand into a fist. He’s over there knocking back drinks and laughing as if he’s not a lying piece of shit, but I know better.
He betrayed me. He gave me bad info. And it almost got me killed.
I don’t care much one way or the other about dying in the long run, but I refuse to die before I finish the job I set out to do.
One more name.
One more death.
One more death before the mission I set for myself is complete, and I can finally move on with my life… or die in fucking peace.
“It’s almost done, Hannah,” I mutter under my breath.
There’s not a hope of anyone overhearing me over the loud bass of the hip hop song blaring through the club. I can feel a few eyes on me, but that doesn’t have anything to do with what I’m saying. Probably just because I’m a woman alone in this place, and there are plenty of thirsty people looking to move in. They’re not really paying attention to anything I might say.
But Hannah hears me, wherever she is. Even if she’s gone, this mission of mine binds us together. This quest I’m on to get rid of every motherfucker who took her from me. Her death is almost avenged.
I have this idea in my mind that she can’t really rest in peace until it’s over and done with, and that’s a shitty thought. If anyone deserves peace, it’s my sister, who never did anything to anyone and was a victim of shit that never should have happened.
I’ll get her the peace she deserves by carving my way through every single person who had a hand in her death.
I’m so close now.
So damn close.
But first, I have to deal with this sleazy fucker.
I keep my eyes on the prize and start to make my way through the crowd. Women and men are locked together, grinding and dancing and laughing, the whole mess of bodies writhing like some kind of boozed up monster.
“Hey, baby,” some guy slurs, moving into my personal space. He puts his hands on my hips and tries to drag me in closer to him, thrusting his pelvis in my direction. “You wanna have some fun?”
“No,” I tell him, keeping it short and simple. “Leave me alone.”
“Aww,” he pouts. “Don’t be like that. You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”
“And you’re so fucking drunk. Move before I make you.”
He grins, leering at me. “Feisty. I like that. Love a spicy bitch.”
I roll my eyes and shove him out of the way, pushing past him and his friends who laugh at the rejection. I could have done much worse to someone who doesn’t know how to take no as a complete fucking sentence, but I’m in a hurry, and I don’t want the man I’m after to get away while I’m dealing with handsy idiots.
I’m dressed to blend in at a dance club since I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself, but it has the unfortunate side effect of making these idiots think I’m available, when I’m definitely not. Not for them. Not for anybody.
The outfit I picked out is sexy and low cut, designed to show off my assets. The flashing lights in Sin and Salvation reflect off my silver hair, and I can see when that draws eyes down to my body. My dress is black and short, showing off my legs and the sprawling tattoo that runs down the side of my thigh. My tits are pushed up and out, practically spilling out of the dress, and I can feel hungry eyes tracing over them and the tattoos that wind over my arms.