Page 57 of Catcher

Everest moves in, checking the guy’s pockets with efficient hands, pulling out a phone, a cheap folding knife, and a wallet.

Riggs crouches enough to look at the man. “Shit,” he mutters, then looks at Everest. “Get the van and make sure he finds a fuckin’ hospital.”

Everest grabs the back of the man’s shirt and drags him toward the shadows near the dumpster like he’s taking out trash.

Riggs turns his attention back on me. “He put his hands on Ruby. I get it. But you don’t get to lose your head in my alley.” His voice isn’t loud, but it lands like a hand to the chest anyway.

“He wasn’t talkin’.” My tone is flat and justified.

He looks at the blood drying across my knuckles, then at my face. “There’s some shit we don’t need to be cleanin’ up in the alleyway of fuckin’ Bourbon Street.”

I stare at him, chest heaving, the taste of rage still thick at the back of my throat. He’s right, and that only pisses me off more. My pulse is still trying to tear out of my skin, every muscle wound so tight it hurts. For one ugly second, all I can see is Ruby pinned against that wall, and every buried thing in me claws for one more hit, one more crack of bone, one more second to make somebody pay for all the times I couldn’t stop bad things from happening. I drag a breath in through my nose.

Riggs holds my stare another beat. Then he nods once. “Get your shit together, we need to talk with your woman.” He straightens and jerks his chin toward the door. “I’m getting answers from Ruby before whatever this is gets bigger.”

“Not my woman,” I mutter.

Without waiting for me or acknowledging my words, Riggs heads back.

Inside, the bar is still moving, but the energy near the back is tight and watchful. The women have Ruby tucked between them at a table near the office, away from the crowd. London’s face is pure fire. Tequila looks ready to shoot somebody for breathing the wrong way. Luna sits close, one hand over Ruby’s, and Promise is angled like a shield.

Ruby is staring at the table, red marks on her arm where he grabbed her. When I stop in front of her, she looks up, and those eyes hit me hard.

“You okay?” My voice comes out rough.

“I’m fine.” She quickly looks away.

London makes a sound under her breath. “Bullshit.”

Ruby gives her a look, but it’s weak.

Riggs pulls out a chair and sits across from her, keeping eye contact and not towering over her. “Ruby,” he says, voice even. “We need to know what he said.”

She wraps her arms around herself, fingers digging into her sides. “He asked about my brother, Robby, and where he is,” she says.

“Your brother?” Riggs asks.

She sighs. “Yeah, my-piece-of-shit-can’t-get-his-life-together brother.”

I step closer without meaning to. Ruby glances up, and the air shifts.

Riggs keeps his voice even. “Tell us about Robby.”

“He’s been in trouble for years… bad choices, bad people. He showed up last week at my house needing help, from what or who I don’t know. With Robby, it can be anyone.”

“He brought his shit to your doorstep?” The words come out rougher than I mean them to, but the second she says house, something ugly kicks in behind my ribs.

Ruby cuts her eyes at me, already bristling. “He was inside my house when I walked in,” she says. Her voice is steady, but I catch the hitch under it. Her fingers curl into the edge of the table hard enough to whiten her knuckles. “If you’re about to give me a lecture about being more careful, save it.”

My jaw locks.

Ruby looks up at me then, really looks, and there’s still fear in her, but pride rides right beside it.

I drag a breath through the burn in my chest and make myself ease back half a step.

“Did he say who he owed?” Riggs asks into the tight silence, pulling the room back to the point before I say something I can’t take back.

“No.”