Page 84 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

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Knox

Julian insistedon a public place for our meeting tonight, which Gage agreed to easily. It makes me kind of antsy because it’s hard to take action with a bunch of random people around, but I guess the point is that we shouldn’t need to. It’s neutral territory for all of us.

“I suggested meeting at the club at first,” Gage says. “But he shot that down immediately. And I didn’t even entertain the idea of meeting on his turf. This will be better.”

We drive to a restaurant in the city proper and park the car. The place isn’t too packed at this hour, since it’s well after the dinner rush, but there are a lot of cars in the lot, and if we didn’t already have a reservation—under Julian’s name, the fucking control freak—there would definitely be a wait.

Usually, I’d be thrilled about meeting at a joint like this. It smells good inside, and as we’re being shown to the table, a waiter walks by with a plate of steak and potatoes that makes my stomach growl and my mouth water.

But I’m mostly focused on this meeting and what we came here to do. Even as we’re walking in, we surround River, keeping her in the middle of our little group. Part of me really hopes there’s a reason to cause a ruckus tonight, but that’s nothing new. I’ve gotten a few chances to scratch the itch that makes me want to cause pain and fuck shit up over the last few days, since we’ve been hunting down answers as to who put Ivan’s body on display at the gala. There have been times when that’s involved getting people to talk the fun way. But I still feel that urge under my skin. I’m still gunning for a fight, practically begging someone to fuck with us. None of the little dust-ups I’ve been in recently have been enough to feed the monster inside me.

If the wait staff think the way we roll in is weird, they don’t say anything, and the hostess shows us to the table where Julian and his sister Natalie are already sitting.

Just seeing that smug fucker sitting there makes me want to punch him right in the goddamn face. I keep thinking about how River looked when we got her back. The bruise on her face, the blood on her wrists. And that haunted, almost broken look she was wearing.

I don’t know what he said to her while he had her locked up, but it was probably bullshit, and it fucked with her head. I want him to pay for that. I want him to know he can’t get away with hurting her.

I’d take him on right now, in the middle of this fucking restaurant, but I won’t risk letting River get hurt. Plus, if I punch him out, he might take it out on Hannah. River loves her sister, so that means my protection extends to her now too. What River cares about, I care about.

So that keeps me from going off—barely. I clench my hands into fists as we reach the table, then have to work a little extra hard to unclench them. The table is tucked into a corner of the restaurant, and it’s a big round one. Julian and Natalie are sitting next to each other on one side, so the rest of us fill in the other side of the circle.

For once, Julian isn’t wearing that smug look on his face. There’s none of that oily smoothness from before. Now he looks like he’s on edge, and I like that. He should be.

He’s obviously distrustful of us, and there’s tension between our two groups. We don’t like each other, and it’s clear as goddamn day.

His sister sits rigidly beside him, looking a lot like I imagine it would if someone took a mannequin and tried to pass it off as a real person. Her pointed chin is lifted into the air a little, her face impassive. She’s cold and ice-queen like, as if she has better things to do than be here and wants us all to know it by ignoring us.

“Um,” the waitress says as she comes over. She glances between all of us, like she’s not sure she should be there. “Can I get your drink orders?”

None of us are here to eat. The food might be the best in the city, but we wouldn’t really taste it. The location is just to serve a purpose.

Julian still has to be a flashy bitch about it as he orders wine for himself and his sister. The rest of us all stick to water, and the waitress hurries off like she can’t wait to get away from the thick tension that hovers over our table.

Can’t blame her for that. The hostility is pretty noticeable.

There aren’t any pleasantries between us and Julian. He leans forward, hands folded on the white tablecloth, and we all wait for Gage to take the lead.

It’s his role, and I’m happy to let him have it. Gage is the one who makes the strategic choices and negotiates shit. He’s got all the smooth words and the ways to talk people down and get the results he wants. I’m the one who steps in when it’s time to fuck shit up, and that’s just how I like it.

It’s what I’m good at.

We all have our strengths.

“You said you had a proposition,” Julian says, sounding irritated and wary. “Well?”

Gage nods. “We do. We already negotiated for the return of River. But you have something else we want. We understand that there may be a steeper price this time, so we’re prepared to let you use our club as a front as payment. You can smuggle through us. Guns, drugs, money. Whatever you need moved.”

“And what do I have that you want?” Julian asks. His gaze lands on River for a split second, and then shifts back to Gage. Fucking asshole. Heknowswhat we want, or what River wants, at least. He just wants to make us say it.

“Hannah,” Gage replies, keeping his tone even and not rising to Julian’s bait.

Julian lifts an eyebrow. “Smuggling, huh? You don’t make that offer to just anyone. From what I’ve heard you’ve got a long list of people who want to use your club for that purpose.”

“Exactly. We’re offering you the chance to skip the line.”

He hums under his breath, thinking about it. He doesn’t look at Natalie, and she doesn’t say anything either, so it’s clear who’s in charge here.

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