Page 70 of Touch of Hate

I don’t need to guess. Only one woman is in our crosshairs. “Rebecca.” Nausea threatens to overwhelm me at the mere mention of her name. I see her in my mind’s eye just as fresh and clear as she looked the last day I saw her: groomed impeccably, without so much as a speck of lint or dust on her perfectly smooth, fitted dress. The women always wore dresses, that much I remember. They had to be feminine at all times, and that was Joseph’s unimaginative version of femininity.

She could be standing in front of me now, hands folded before her, a bland expression on her equally bland face. She always carried herself like a queen, though, didn’t she? A queen who controlled all of us even as she pretended to defer to her narcissistic asshole of a husband.

“We knew she and William would be together,” I murmur, glancing at the bedroom door to ensure we aren’t overheard. She hasn’t moved, though. I would’ve heard the bed creaking if she had. “What are they doing? Can we confirm—”

“There’s been a rash of disappearances in Reno over the past few months,” he offers before I finish my question. “Three runaway teens in the last two weeks alone. Not a sign of them anywhere. Other kids they’re known to hang around with all told stories of a guy in his late teens or early twenties seen around the areas these kids tend to frequent. One night, he handed out bottled water and blankets and shit.”

“Pulling the old benevolent leader act,” I mutter. We were young, sure, but I remember that much about Joseph. Making sure everybody knew all he wanted was to see to their physical needs.

That was how he hooked them. How he hooked our parents and everybody else who were a part of our lives in those days. Provide for people, pretend to understand them in a way no one else ever has, and they’re yours. Especially when the victims in question are too young to identify the stench of your bullshit.

It isn’t difficult to imagine Rebecca raising William in his father’s image.

“That’s where they’re building New Haven,” I muse, staring over the laptop screen into the darkened living room. New Haven, what a joke. There’s nothing new about it. It’s Safe Haven with an updated name and a fresh coat of paint to hide the ugly past.

How far have they gotten? How many people have they suckered in already? How long has this been going on?

“It’s as strong a lead as any we’ve gotten so far,” River agrees, excitement in his voice. He’s more animated than I’ve seen him in ages—when we aren’t fighting over Scarlet, at least.

This is different. This is hopeful.

And grim. So damn grim. I mean, it’s not like we’re planning on having a tea party with these evil, twisted fucks once we track them down.

“Reno’s a big place,” I murmur, looking at my brother in time to watch his face fall.

“You’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Backing down now when what we need is to take action.”

I hold a finger to my lips before plugging in my earbuds, which I should’ve done in the first place. There was no way he’d keep his excitement in check, regardless of the late hour. “We can’t go off half-cocked,” I whisper into the microphone.

“Half-cocked? What else do you need?” He throws his hands into the air before clasping them on top of his head like he’s afraid it will explode otherwise. I know the feeling. He’s taken me to that place many times.

“Actual proof, for one. Or would you rather go cruising through Nevada without any real idea where we’re heading or who we’ll find once we get there? You don’t honestly think they’re unarmed, do you?”

He rolls his eyes, but his silence tells me more. He knows I’m right. “Going out there now would be like trying to go hunting with a water gun. We’d be way outmatched. It would be hopeless.”

“So what? We wait?”

“We’ve waited all this time,” I remind him, taking pains to keep myself calm in the face of his growing impatience. “So we wait a little while longer.”

His growl is enough to make my hair stand on end. “You can afford to wait. I can’t.”

“Why not?” I demand before pulling myself back. I can’t let him drag me into a fight. Not now. He’ll only end up going off. “Don’t you want to be sure we get this done the right way the first time around? We won’t get a second chance.”

“Fine.” He folds his arms, eyes narrowing into slits. “Since you think you’re calling the shots, what should we do now? What’s your big idea?”

Considering he just hit me with this new information, there’s no idea at the ready, and he knows it. He forgets how familiar I am with his sudden, irritating shifts. Like he wants to blindside me into throwing my hands up the way he does. Hoping I’ll give in and let him have his way.

Not this time. Not when we’re so close. We can’t afford to get greedy now.

“I want them to pay for what they did just as much as you do,” I remind him. If anything, the nightmare only strengthens my hatred and reminds me why this is so important. These people are responsible for destroying our lives and so many others. Killing our parents. Breaking up countless families when they twisted the minds of sons, daughters, sisters, and brothers.

I lower my brow the way he does, staring straight at the camera. “When we make our move, everything needs to be in place. Nothing can be left to chance. I want this over, once and for all, like you do.”

His breathing is heavy. Hard. The sound of a frustrated bull ready to charge, held back by something stronger. He doesn’t have to like it and refuses to hide the fact. No big surprise there. We don’t hide things from each other.

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