Page 56 of Catcher

Then I see her. It’s Ruby, whose back is to the wall, with some motherfucker’s hand clamped on her arm. Everything in me goes empty for one clean second. Then it rushes back in, mean and cold, like a door slamming shut.

I’m moving before I think.

He leans into her space as if he owns the air she breathes. My vision narrows until the hallway is a tunnel, and he’s the only thing in it. The music turns to a dull throb. The crowd becomes static. All I see is his hand on her, and all I hear is my blood going black. Ruby’s eyes flick over his shoulder and land on me, and I see her fear.

That does something to me—something violent and familiar. I step behind the son of a bitch without a sound. The man doesn’t hear me. Ruby’s lips part, and I shake my head once. Her gaze locks on mine like a handhold, and I feel her take the message.

The man’s voice carries, low and ugly. “We know your brother paid you a little visit last week.”

Brother?

Ruby’s color drains out as his grip tightens thinking he can squeeze the truth from her. “Where the fuck is he?”

I’m close enough to smell stale smoke and cheap cologne ground into his shirt. Close enough to see the grease at the edge of his cap, the twitch in his jaw when he tightens his grip.

“Take your fucking hand off her.” My voice stays low, cold enough to strip the air bare.

The motherfucker stiffens. Ruby’s eyes flutter shut for half a second, as if the sound of my voice gives her one breath she couldn’t get before. He turns his head just enough to look at me over his shoulder.

His eyes flick over my cut, my face, and then he smiles like he’s too stupid to recognize a grave when he’s standing in it.

“This ain’t your business.”

Rage detonates inside me so hard it damn near whites out my vision. I grip the back of the motherfucker’s neck and slam him against the opposite wall, hard enough that the sheetrock groans behind him.

I glance back at Ruby. “You hurt?”

Her eyes drop to the red marks on her skin. “I’m okay,” she whispers.

“Go,” I say.

She doesn’t move. Her eyes stay on the son of a bitch as I hold him in place against the wall.

“Babe,” I say, lower now. “Move.” Her throat works, then she slips past me, keeping as much distance as the narrow hallway allows. My body stays between them until she clears the corner.

The second she’s gone, I turn my attention back to the motherfucker who had his hands on Ruby. “Name.”

He grunts, teeth bared. “Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.” I drive my fist into his ribs, feeling cartilage give under my knuckles. He folds, wheezing, and swings wildly, catching nothing but hallway air. I keep him close, steering him by the shirt and throat, pushing him toward the back door. Everest is already in the back hall. Wick is with him.

I drag him through the back, his boots skidding. The door slams open into the alley, and the noise from the bar dies behind us like someone cut a wire. The outside heat hits like a wall, thick and wet with the stench of garbage and old beer. A security light buzzes overhead, flickering once.

I throw the fucker down. He hits the pavement on his hands and knees. He tries to push up, and I kick him in the ribs. He rolls, gasping, palms scraping asphalt. He spits blood, laughing. I haul him up and drive him backward into the brick wall. His skull snaps against it, and his knees buckle like the wall stole the strength out of him. I keep him there with my forearm across his throat. He laughs again, but it comes out wet. “You walked into the wrong place and put your hands on the wrong woman, motherfucker.”

The bastard gasps for a breath. “I ain’t gotta tell you shit.”

I hit him hard, driving my fist into his jaw, feeling teeth scrape against my knuckles. I step back and let him swing on me. The punch skims my shoulder. I answer with a knee to his stomach that folds him. Then I grab the back of his shirt and slam him face-first into the metal dumpster beside us, and the sound rings through the alley.

I crouch, fist my hand in his hair, forcing his head back until his neck strains. “What does she got to do with her brother?”

“Fuck you.” He pants.

I haul him back to his feet, only to slam the back of his skull against the brick wall. I’m done looking for answers that he isn’t supplying. I drive my fist into his face and break his nose. His howl fills the alley and fuels my rage.

“Enough.” I hear Riggs, but barely.

I force myself to take a step back and look down at the worthless pile of shit at my feet, his breathing ragged. My fists hang tight at my sides, while I breathe through my nose until the red haze thins enough to see straight.