Lift You Up (Rivers Brothers 1)

"You let an innocent girl pay for your debts?" he asked, fatherly disgust plain in his voice, something that gave me hope.

"I was trying to fix it."

"Not hard enough, clearly," Richard shot back, mouth curling like he had a sour taste on his tongue. "I can't betray a confidence by giving you a number or address. It would be me missing next if I did. But I can give you this," he said, turning, walking back into a large glassed-off office, going in his top drawer, grabbing something, walking back out to us, holding out his hand.

Where a very distinctive golden chip was held between two fingers.

"Tonight's the game," he declared. "There will be a guard hanging at this location all day."

"Thank you," I told him, tone heavy with gratitude, a small bit of relief. One step closer. "If you need anything," I added, reaching for my cell, for the little sleeve on the back of it where I could fit exactly three business cards in case the need for one rose, I pulled one out, handing it off.

He took it, gaze moving over the words there. "Private security, huh?" he mused. "If this is the kind of thing one can expect from your services," he said, waving at the general scene we were as a whole. "Then I will definitely hold onto this," he told me, slipping the card into his breast pocket. "Good luck finding your girl."

"Thank you again," I told him, turning to hit the button for the elevator, shoving Harry into it.

"That was slick." I must have shot him a look because he continued. "The way you handed off that card. Slick."

"It's the highlight of my day, impressing you," I drawled.Fifteen minutes later, we were situated outside a laundromat, eyes moving around at the people gathered there, trying to discern who might be the guard from who was simply sneaking out for a smoke while their clothes sudsed up.

"That one," Harry declared, pointing his chin toward a guy in a corner in simple slacks and a gray sink short-sleeved shirt, casually leaning against the wall, smoking.

But Harry was right. there was an alertness in the way his gaze kept casually moving around, as if looking for someone or something.

"Alright. Let's go."

"You're out," the guy declared when we were within five feet of him.

"He knows. He also knows the muscle your boss hired to track him down kidnapped my girl. So now we're here to pay his debt. And find out how to get her back."

The guard's eyes sized me up, eyes considering, before he nodded, ashing out his cigarette in the sand of the wrought iron ashtray, and moving away from us.

We stood there a long couple of minutes before he came back, another cigarette lit, trailing smoke behind him from his slightly swinging arm as he moved back toward us.

"Alright," he said, giving me a nod, ignoring Harry as a whole. "You got the money. I got an address," he told me, holding up his free hand where a small piece of paper was nestled between his fore and middle fingers.

"I took it, handing him the black bag. "That is straight from the Mallicks," I told him as he unzipped it to gaze inside. "So you know it's all there," I clarified.

"Yep," he agreed, nodding, zipping it back up. "Glad he's someone else's problem," he added, moving to walk away, suddenly turning back, eyes squinting a little at me. "Rivers, right?"

"Yep," I agreed. "Kingston."

To that, I got a nod as he turned and left.

"Jackass pretty boy hire-a-guard," Harry said bitterly. "Eamon always surrounds himself with good-looking people. It's sick."

I was only half-aware of Harry's clearly jealous ranting as I unfolded the paper with hands that - I'm not too ashamed to say - shook a bit, finding the address there.

"So where are we going?" Harry asked, finally grabbing my attention.

I snorted. "You are going home to clean that nose up. Then I suggest you hit the streets and find some jobs to start paying down the interest you are accruing as we speak."

"It's an hour walk from here."

"Yeah, I feel real fucking sorry for you," I told him, heading back to my car at a dead run, throwing it into reverse, peeling out of the lot.

It wasn't far, the address.

It wasn't like they grabbed her and headed to the city or something.

She was somewhere holed up with those bastards in a warehouse district in New Burnswick, just a half an hour drive I intended to make in twenty, making a quick call to Nixon, rallying the troops, though I had no intention of waiting for them.

Would it be smarter, safer?

Yeah.

But there was no way that I was going to sit on my hands and wait for them to show if Savea was just a couple hundred feet away from me.