Page 109 of Savage

Drake snorts. “Yeah, and it’s our word against his—assuming he’s even alive to try to say otherwise. I don’t want to be an accessory to fucking murder, though. Is she really worth all this? You could always buy a new one.”

I whirl around and grab Drake by the throat, squeezing before he has a chance to react.

“If you fucking suggest something like that ever again…” I growl, all the rage flaring up inside me.

Drake looks too stunned to do anything, but he grabs my wrist, trying to slam his fist on my arm to get loose of my grasp. He’s bigger than I am, and usually he’d be stronger, but my anger is fueling my own strength.

Chase grabs my shoulder. “Hunter, chill. Drake isn’t the enemy. We’ll find Stef. She’s going to be fine, and we can, at the very least, beat up Dylan so badly he won’t be able to stand in front of court for a few years.”

Drake manages to free himself from my grasp, and he takes a step back. “Sorry, man,” he says, but I ignore the repentant look on his face. “I didn’t realize…” He rubs his temples. “We’re wasting time. I—” His phone dings, and he pulls it back out of his pocket. His expression turns triumphant, a dark smile on his lips as he says, “Got an address. Chase, is this the one your guy found?”

Chase nods. “Yep. I’d say we’re good to go. We can discuss our approach on the way.” He looks around the condo. “And we should document the damage—”

“No. Stef is more important.” I don’t bother to listen to their prattle anymore.

I’m going to find Stef, and I’m going to rescue her.

Nobody else gets to make her cry.

* * *

“Okay, I know we aren’t here to hunt for properties, but I think this could make a sweet real estate investment,” Chase says, staring at the abandoned house. “You could easily buy up the neighboring houses too, bulldoze the neighborhood and turn it into nice housing. I bet most of the people here would be glad for the paycheck. We’d be doing the city a favor, too, cleaning up this place.”

I clench my fists and resist the urge to punch him. “I don’t fucking care.”

“Time and place, Chase. Time and place,” Drake says, getting out of the car. “Let’s go before Hunter has an aneurysm.”

Chase stops once he’s out of the car. “Is this a good time to mention I’ll just keep watch? I don’t really want to witness… whatever is going to happen there.”

“Are you squeamish?” Drake asks incredulously. “You’re the one with the hardcore floggers and whips and torture implements.”

“I’m not squeamish,” Chase snaps. “I’m practical. And I know I’m not going to be of any use, and it’s better if I’m here to intercept any cops that get called if you start shooting willy nilly.”

Drake gives an exaggerated sigh. “You’re fucking squeamish. Just—”

I ignore them, walking with quick strides toward the entrance of the house. My hand is tight on my gun, and it’s all I can do to avoid trying to kick the door in. I know it’s not as easy in real life as it is in the movies, but I wish I could make that sort of… memorable appearance.

Dylan had managed it despite the supposed security of my building.

Drake curses but follows behind me.

Of course, there’s no need to kick the door in if it’s just unlocked. Drake and I both share a look as the door easily opens. I quietly step inside, even though all I want to do is rush inside to find Stef.

I’m not going to help her by getting shot before I can do anything, though.

I peer into all the rooms as we walk through the hall, but they’re all empty. Once we get closer to the back of the house, though, I hear voices.

“I don’t think he cares about you,” a man says. “I sent the email like a fucking hour ago!”

“I told you he wouldn’t pay anything for me,” a woman’s voice replies—Stef’s voice, sounding slurred and despondent in a way I haven’t heard in a long time.

“See? Rich fucks never want to share the wealth. Hoard it all for themselves, the rich getting richer, while us little people have to scrape to get by. I’ve worked hard too, Bela! Why shouldn’t I—”

My next step is on a creaky floorboard, and the sound is loud enough to interrupt Dylan’s ranting.

“Fuck. Who’s there?” Dylan shouts.

Stealth isn’t an option anymore. I stride closer and say, “If you want any of my wealth, you’ll lower your gun. I can’t pay you if I’m dead.”

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