Chapter 8
Usually,Týr didn’t give a shit about the gawking that came his way. But after the rough day he’d gone through, a burning twitch started in his gut, making him want to haul ass outside. Then Kira walked into the bar from the back corridor, her jacket in hand. A few curly strands of hair had escaped her single braid to frame her gorgeous face. Týr forgot the stares, forgot his annoyance, his entire focus now on her.
Except, her bright, ready smile and the natural spring to her step was nowhere in sight. Her features appeared drawn, and her posture brittle as if a touch might shatter her.
What the hell had happened?
Týr made tracks for her, but the damn crowd kept getting in his way. Before he reached her, an overweight drunk grabbed her around her waist and tumbled her onto his lap. “Where’s my drink, beautiful?”
In a blur, Týr moved and hauled Kira off. Anger, dark and violent, spilled free. He grabbed the fool by his shirt and dragged him to his feet. “Touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your hands. You get me?”
The sweating human paled, he nodded profusely. “S-sorry, man, was just havin’ a some fun—”
“Find your fucking fun elsewhere! Now, get the hell outta here.” Týr dropped the drunk.
A pin drop could be heard in the silent bar as the man lurched into tables. Glasses fell, and the din restarted.
Kira stood there, her face pale, her gaze following the asshole out. Týr slid a hand to her nape, making her look at him. “You okay?” he asked, struggling to pull his rage deep inside of him.
In spite of her nod, he didn’t think she was. He took her jacket and helped her put it on, then buttoned it before ushering her outside. The cold air did little to soothe his fury at the drunken scum touching her. “Ready to find Tomas?” he asked, trying for normal.
Another little nod, and still silent.
With a frowning sideways glance at her, Týr offered her his hand. As if a robot had taken over her body, Kira grasped his palm. Shit, something was really off. But knowing her, if he pushed, he’d get no answer. Before this night was over, he’d find out what the hell had happened.
He steered her into the alley behind the bar to start the search for the little love-struck runaway. But worry over Kira abraded his mind, even after her hand slipped from his again…
Two hours later, Týr skirted the reeking trash bags stashed against a grungy building downtown, slowing down in another alley. A few makeshift tarp shelters were pressed up against walls.
Kira stood unobtrusively at his side. “Another dead end.”
“Yeah. We’ll find him,” he reassured her. He didn’t like her out here in the backstreets, but so far, all was quiet…and so was she. “You okay there, Fluff?”
She nodded, slipping her hands into her pockets. Her lush mouth, usually spewing some acidic comeback or other at him by now, turned down at the corners. Whatever was troubling her, Týr was damn sure it wasn’t the missing boy.
Spying a fast-food vendor’s truck, he headed toward it. “Give me a second.”
She leaned against the vehicle, her attention on the traffic-choked street. Týr indicated what he wanted to the guy behind the counter. Candies obtained, he pushed them into his jacket pocket and found her watching him. A feminine eyebrow rose. “With the amount of sweets you consume, I’m surprised you have any teeth left.”
Andtherewas his little tormentor.
“It’s my apology to Tomas when we find him. You know, for stepping on his turf,” he teased. Her lips quirked, and she rolled her eyes. His mouth twitched into a smile. His world felt right again. They were back in sync.
As they trawled deeper into another alley, Týr cut her a sidelong look. “Want to talk about what happened, what made you look like your world just shattered?”
Those usually brilliant hazel eyes dimmed a little. She shrugged. “I’m worried about Tomas. It’s been over two hours, and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”
Truth. But not the one he wanted.
“The lad’s probably lived on the street his entire life. He undoubtedly knows every recess, every safe spot to disappear into.”
“Or the demons could have him,” she whispered, her gaze meeting his. Her distress hit Týr hard, cracking through the barriers he’d erected. Hell, he preferred her driving him crazy to this vulnerability.
Her trembling chin firmed. She pulled out her cell. Týr slid his clenched hands into his pants pockets and glanced to the busy nightclub farther up the backstreet so he wouldn’t do something stupid like hold her and beg her to give him a chance…and probably scare the shit outta her and send her screaming into the night.
A heavy sigh escaped her. “It’s eleven-thirty.”
“You have fifteen minutes, Kira, you know the deal. I want you out of here, soon,” he said, steel edging his tone to make his point clear.
