Page 59 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

“King Tut?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Ask Knox. I figure it’s some nerd shit or something, but I heard him call the mutt that this morning when he refused to eat an old hot dog. Like he’s too good for it, when we’ve all seen him licking his own ass.” He grins down at the dog, still scratching behind his ears. “Don’t you, boy? Don’t you lick your own ass?”

The dog’s tail wags so hard that it thumps against the floor, and even though he can’t understand that Ash is mocking him, he’s in heaven from the attention, clearly.

I leave them to it, walking into the kitchen. It’s quiet, making my footsteps seem loud as I enter. Knox is sitting at the table, shoveling food into his mouth and staring at something on his phone.

“How’d it go?” he asks, not looking up at me.

I shake my head. “Dead end. Another name to mark off the list. Where’s River?”

“Out,” he answers around a mouthful of pasta.

Fuck.

“Out where?”

Knox shrugs. “Didn’t ask. She said she’d be back later. Probably following up on a lead or something.”

I blow a breath out through my nose and then shake off the disappointment that rises in me. Whatever. She has her own life, and she’s trying to get to the bottom of this too.

I cross to the fridge and rummage around until I find a bottle of water and some fruit, and then take them into the library. It helps to keep myself busy, so I mark the name Ash and I went to follow up on off the list that’s tacked to the wall now, then sit in one of the chairs with a book.

It’s one of the ones thatdoesn’thave its pages stuck together from River’s little tantrum, and it feels like it was months ago that she did that. Like it happened with someone else altogether.

I guess my feelings on her have changed so much over time that I don’t even have any simmering resentment over that anymore.

Now I just wish she was here.

I read a little, making some notes in the margins, and then when that gets old, I pull out my tablet and start going over some numbers for the club.

It’s all shit that needs to get done, stuff that’s a part of my usual routine, but I know that part of me is just waiting for River to get back. To get home.

The window in the library faces the driveway, and every time a car goes by down the road I wait to see if it’s going to turn into the driveway. They never do, and it puts me on edge.

It’s getting later now, the light going golden and slanted as the afternoon changes to evening, and worry starts to eat at me.

Where the fuck is she?

It gets later and later, and eventually, I get up and walk back to the rest of the house. Priest and Ash are in the living room, watching something on TV, and Knox comes up from the basement almost like he was summoned.

They all take a look at my face, and then Ash frowns.

“River’s not back yet.”

“We would have heard her car,” Priest says. “The thing rumbles like it runs on diesel.”

“She should have been back by now,” I say, pacing a little.

“Unless maybe her lead was really good?” Knox throws in. We all look at him and he shrugs. “It was just a thought.”

And it’s not impossible that she did get a good lead and decided to track it down to a source or some proof, but even then, it’s dangerous for her to be doing it on her own. She would have checked in. We’re past the point where she has to be out there alone, and we’ve all been making a point to check in with each other.

The dog comes to the living room door, whining for attention, and I realize it’s because it’s time for his evening feeding. River never misses that. She rants and complains about the dog all the time, but she still takes care of him.

Something twists in my gut as I pull my phone out of my pocket and call her cell. We all have her number by now, since we’ve been coordinating our investigation and I wanted a way to keep in touch. The fingers of my free hand tap against my thigh as it rings, and when it goes to voicemail, I hang up and try again.

Same thing.

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