Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Dakota

Despite the warmth of the sun, the bright blue sky wide and vast above her, and the soft breeze carrying the scent of freshly ground coffee beans from the shop nearby, Dakota felt sick to her stomach. The nausea, or the worry, hadn’t relented in the last three days.

Dakota dialed her best friend’s number again and again—calling until Lyra’s phone went dead and every subsequent one went to voicemail. Then, she drove straight to Twist and Tonic , stormed into the dive bar, shoved through a group from the Brotherhood, and right up to the bartender, who told her Lyra was off for the next few days.

Once that location was ruled out, Dakota hopped back into her car and floored it to Lyra’s house, hoping to find the woman dancing in the living room with the music blaring so loud that she didn’t notice her phone had died.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Dakota found the front door still locked, the porch light still on, and the uncollected mail still slotted in the small mailbox attached to the porch railing. She sucked in a deep breath, attempted to calm her fried nerves to no avail, and then called Lyra’s parents.

Brian and Dawn Jones had no ties to the Brotherhood other than Lyra’s on-and-off dating history with Rocco. Brian was a city accountant, and Dawn was a local grade school teacher. Neither were fans of John Montgomery and would certainly tense up if he was mentioned in casual conversation, but they had always treated Dakota like one of their own. She suspected it started out of pity but evolved into true kindness.

Brian immediately phoned the Iron Guard while Dawn drove down to the nearest station to put in a missing person’s report. They wouldn’t allow her to submit one, citing the Iron Guard’s policy to wait forty-eight hours. Dakota knew from her father that forty-eight hours was far too long.

But Dakota was forced to wait. So she called Lyra. And waited some more. And drove past her house. And waited even longer. And flocked to Twist and Tonic like the place was a shelter in a storm. And chewed her nails down to nubs.

By day three, Dakota had enough waiting.

“Did you see the missing person’s report for Lyra?” Dakota asked her father hesitantly. His temper was short, his patience for Lyra even shorter, and the two together were like oil and water.

John didn’t bother to look over the top of the newspaper he was reading. “It’s not much of a missing person’s report. She’s a known distill user. She’s probably at an addiction center somewhere waiting to come down.”

The callousness in his voice broke something deep and unforgiving inside of Dakota. “Lyra isn’t an addict. She uses on occasion and hasn’t even done that in years. She’s—“

“Oh, even better.” John’s humored snort was unkind. He folded the edge of the newspaper down, piercing her with his stare. For Lyra, she withstood it. “Then you’ll find her holed up in a shack on the outskirts of town with a vial in her hand. I can give you a list of known distill houses if you—“

Dakota didn’t let him finish his sentence. She leaned over the kitchen table and ripped the paper from his hands, tearing it in half. It drifted to the white marble tile, settling with a soft whoosh against the floor.

John’s stare turned deadly, but Dakota’s leashed rage set every nerve in her body on edge. “I don’t ask you for much or anything at all,” she seethed through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her tone steady. “But I need to know what happened to Lyra. As my father, I was hoping you would help me.”

John studied her for a long minute, and his head angled in a way that reminded Dakota of a bird watching its prey. Slowly, he picked up the steaming mug of coffee to take a small sip. “I’m not going to waste my time. I have meetings with the governor today, but—“ He sent her a look as she opened her mouth to protest. “But Ethan is available. You should give him a call.”

“Are you serious, dad? Ethan?” Dakota asked, crossing her arms over her chest .

John arched a brow. “You’re lucky I’m willing to lend you one of my deputies. Missing persons, especially the questionable ones, are beneath the Rangers.” He took another sip of his coffee as he stood from the breakfast nook. “Call Ethan if you want help. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

That was exactly how, after three hours of internal deliberation, Dakota found herself sitting on the patio of the coffeehouse in an upscale area of Norwich. The colorful striped awnings of the shops fluttered like flags in the breeze, and the hanging flower baskets swayed with them. There was an occasional honk of a horn as cars lined up at the stoplight, overtaking the chatter of two older women at a neighboring table.

Dakota ignored all of it. Instead, she focused on the Ranger car pulling into the parking spot parallel to the sidewalk. Regret sank like a boulder in her stomach. It was all for Lyra, it was all for Lyra, it was all for Lyra.

Ethan threw open the door of his cruiser, replacing his service cap over his buzzed hair as he stepped from the driver’s side. He shut the door with too much force, jolting the car as it sat. His sauntering walk was somehow both clipped and casual, and he disregarded the turnstile parking meter as he went around it.

“Dakota,” he said as he approached the wrought iron bistro table. She could feel his wandering gaze staring at her exposed legs behind his framed sunglasses. She stifled the instinct to shift them further under the table. “Your father said you might be calling me today. Have to say, I’m a bit surprised.”

“Are you?” she responded with a bite of surprise in her tone. It was news to her if he had finally gotten the hint that she didn’t want to date him.

Ethan reached for the back of the matching wrought iron chair and wrenched it toward him. The legs screeched against the cement sidewalk, loud enough that the two neighboring women glanced over at them. Dakota didn’t roll her eyes, though it meant fixing her gaze on his silver badge to keep from doing so. He sunk into the seat, spreading his legs wide and resting an elbow on a thigh.

“Yes, I am. Lyra was a junkie while we were in school. Your father being who he is, I’m surprised you still associate with her.”

Dakota took a drag of her vanilla iced coffee to swallow back the retort bubbling up her throat. Gods, he was such a dick. Reaching out to him was a mistake. She set down the coffee but kept her fist locked around the plastic cup. The cool condensation dripped into the crevices between her fingers, distracting her enough to free any lingering fury and focus on Lyra .

“Do you have any information on her disappearance?” Dakota asked, slapping on a honeyed smile that she hoped didn’t look too fake. “I could use some assurance that she’s being searched for.” She reached into the canvas bag at her feet and fished out the transcript of the call, complete with a log she had created the day before. “I have additional information that might be of some use.”

Ethan leaned over the document to grab the iced coffee from her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and took a sip. He closed his eyes to make a face just as Dakota curled her lip, and she was thankful she could regain her composure before he settled his gaze back onto hers. He still hadn’t so much as glanced at the transcript between them.

“Go out with me,” Ethan said as he pushed the coffee back toward Dakota. She didn’t pick it up.

“Excuse me?”

Ethan smirked, placing his muscled forearms on the edge of the table. It tilted on its legs, and Dakota’s side lifted slightly from the ground. “Go out with me. Tonight. And I promise I will do everything possible to find information on your…on Lyra.” He said her name like it was nothing—like it was dirt on his tongue that he couldn’t spit out fast enough.

Dakota was at a momentary loss for words. The breeze ruffled her hair over her shoulders, and she placed a hand over the paper to keep it from blowing away. “Are you—are you using my best friend’s disappearance to leverage a date out of me?”

“You’ve rejected every other attempt. This could be a win-win for us. What do they call that? A quid pro quo?”

Dakota stared at him as she sat back in her seat, trying to gain as much space from him as possible. “You’re unbelievable. No, I will not go out with you in exchange for help finding Lyra. You should want to help find her because she’s missing .” She didn’t add in the you fucking idiot at the end like she wanted to.

Ethan shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not my job as a Ranger to pick the low-hanging fruit off the ground and put it back on the tree.” He pointed to his badge, the silver glinting in the bright sun. “I’ve got more important things to do. If you want my help, you know my terms. Who else do you have to turn to?”

Callum .

The name was a whisper in the roaring of her mind, so sudden and unexpected that she physically flinched at the thought. Callum would know what to do. Fuck. Callum would know what to do . Rocco would be at his side, and he would know what happened to Lyra. Even if he didn’t, he would burn the city down trying to find out.

“I am your best choice,” Ethan went on. Dakota surmised that he believed her flinch was an unspoken answer to his question.

Standing so quickly that her chair legs scraped against the cement, Dakota couldn’t help but scoff at the confused look on his face. “You can keep the coffee,” she said, gesturing toward the half-filled plastic cup between them. “I don’t want anything that you’ve touched.” A glittering spark of triumph filled her chest at the shadow of anger that passed over his eyes, but she knew that his attention on her wasn’t over. Far from it if she had to wager.

Ethan’s glare was unadulterated malice as she hurried away from the patio, her canvas bag banging against her back. Only an ember of courage was left in her, and she knew where to use it before it extinguished.

The drive to the mechanic’s shop, where she assumed she would find Callum in the mid-week early afternoon, was both the longest and shortest drive she had ever taken. Only a mere twenty minutes from the upscale coffeehouse, the drive was horribly familiar even though she hadn’t done it in twelve years. It didn’t help that she knew who was on the other end of the road.

Dakota’s heart thundered inside her, a beat she could feel pulsing in her fingertips, her ears, her stomach, and down to her toes. Her throat tightened with every turn she took, with every sight that she hadn’t set her eyes on in over a decade. Going to Callum and the Brotherhood was a choice she would have to grapple with in the future.

But this was Lyra. And she was worth it.

The car rolled into the parking lot, gravel crackling beneath the tires. Dakota struggled to breathe, each shakier and less controlled than the last. This was a mistake. She could turn back—she should turn back—but Lyra’s smiling face floated in her mind. That was enough to steel her resolve. At least what was left of it.

Logan was the first to notice her arrival, and his inquisitive stare turned into a wide-eyed fascination when she exited her car. Dakota winced as he spun around to disappear into the garage, his loud voice echoing above the music banging from the speaker. That was Ace’s music, no doubt. He listened to the same tracks when they were in school. She focused on that as the oil drums and used car parts came into view.

Dakota stopped, the heat in her body going cold as Rocco and Ace stood before her as though an invisible line in the dirt held them there. The sunlight beat onto her back, sweat trailing between her shoulder blades. Undoubtedly, this was one of the biggest mistakes she had ever made.

“I’m looking for Lyra,” she called to them, still a comical distance away from the open garage bay. “Have you seen her?”

Ace rolled his eyes and removed the toothpick from his mouth. “Of course we haven’t fucking seen her, princess. Her and cocksucker over here got into a fight.” He jabbed his chin toward Rocco, who sent him a scowl. “Did you try calling her like a normal fucking person?”

All of the residual confidence she used to walk across the parking lot shriveled and died as soon as a broad-chested man shouldered between the two. Dakota’s mouth dried as Callum froze in place, his stare drilling a chasm into her soul. She was sure he could hear her rapidly beating heart from where he stood and was equally sure that he watched the blood drain from her face at the very sight of him.

Callum was wiping his hands on a grease-stained towel, inspecting his fingertips painted black from oil. There was a smudge on his cheek that Dakota wanted to reach up and thumb away. Had she been close enough, she might have needed to shove her hand in the pocket of her shorts to keep it away from him.

The three of them stood in a line, a brick wall that she wasn’t meant to penetrate. They would be sure of that. Dakota took in a deep breath, folding her arms over her chest—the only movement she could do to hide whatever was left of her filleted spirit. This was a terrible idea .

Rocco turned away, taking Ace by the upper arm and dragging him into the bay.

“The fuck, man?” Ace protested loudly. “What if Callum needs our—“

“It’s Dakota. He’s gonna be just fine.”

She wondered if Rocco even knew about Lyra. Doubtful if he was being so casual. He would still drop anything for her even when they had fought before.

Callum took two steps forward, finally crossing that invisible bridge. His gray eyes slowly lifted, and she felt the pierce of his gaze linger where a small tattoo was inked into her hip before trekking up to reconnect with her green ones.

“What do you want, Dakota?” He said her name like a test, unsure whether it would pass. She suppressed the tingle at the base of her spine, not wanting to reflect on how she had asked him that same question a week before.

“I need your help,” she croaked through her dry mouth. It came out more desperate than she meant it to. “It’s about Lyra.”

Callum’s brow twitched as he searched her face. “What about Lyra?”

Dakota swallowed past the lump lodged at the back of her throat. “She’s missing. I got a call from her.” She paused to retrieve the transcript she had stuffed into her bag before leaving the coffeehouse. It was wrinkled and creased, but Callum smoothed it with one swipe of his strong, tattooed hand. “Her phone is dead, and I haven’t been able to reach her for three days.”

Callum read it over, the notch between his furrowed brows deepening. “Did you go to your dad?” he asked, extending his hand to give her the paper.

Their fingers grazed when Dakota reached for it, a pulse akin to an electric shock beaming up her arm at the slightest touch. She kept her cool mask of indifference firmly in place. “He sent me to Ethan, who…it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “The point is, no one will listen to me. The Guard thinks she’s just an addict who will show up on the street. I need—“ She clamped her mouth shut, not allowing herself to admit aloud that who she really needed was him.

From the smirk that ghosted over his lips, Callum didn’t need to hear her say it. He already knew.

“How far along are you in your alchemist training?”

It was Dakota’s turn to furrow her brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The corners of Callum’s lips turned down in thought. “Entertain me.”

She let out a huff of frustration, squinting her eyes against the shifting sun that shone brightly against the metal Reynolds Auto and Body sign hanging above the lobby door. “Four months? Maybe longer if I don’t pass my board exam.”

Callum nodded, a calculating slant passing over his gaze. She didn’t like the look of that one bit. “The Brotherhood has found itself in need of an alchemist.”

Alarm bells rang loud and clear. “Okay? And?”

“You’ll be that alchemist for us.”

Dakota let out a strangled laugh. Her chest rose and fell like the tide, yet the air was somehow unable to reach her lungs. “No, I won’t be. Are you insane?”

“Not at all, actually—“

“Not only is that illegal , but I could lose my job. My career . I could be thrown in prison .”

“Okay? And?” Callum repeated her own words back to her.

Dakota seethed, turning a blistering glare onto him. “And how do you know I won’t run off to tell my father that you even brought it up?”

The grin that slowly stole over Callum’s mouth was knowing—the confidence of a man who could read any situation and come out a winner. “Because you need me. You wouldn’t be standing here if you didn’t.”

Behind him, one of the cars backfired when a worker turned the engine over, and Ace swore loud enough that Dakota heard it over the music. The space between them filled with the acrid scent of burning gasoline. Callum never flinched but kept his steady gaze trained on her. She was burning alive beneath it.

“I’m not going to be your alchemist,” Dakota hissed. “Find someone else.”

Callum shrugged as he took a step back. “Find someone else to help find Lyra. Rocco doesn’t know. I won’t tell him a thing. How long do you think their previous fight lasted? It could be months before he realizes she’s gone.”

“What do you even need an alchemist for anyways?” she shot back, not suppressing the venom that threatened to spike a hole through her tongue.

Callum licked his lips, momentarily drawing Dakota’s attention down to them. “I have my reasons.” He took a minute to study her, his eyes narrowing on her wary expression. “Good luck with your search.” He turned to walk away, the gravel crunching under his work boots, and Dakota’s heart plummeted to her stomach as she watched the only opportunity to find her best friend slip through her fingers.

“Wait,” she said before any logical thought could catch up to her. He paused, glancing over his shoulder. She released a long sigh, tipping her head back to watch a puffed cloud march across the sky. “It would only be until you find Lyra, right?”

“However long that takes,” he amended.

She lifted her head, firmly setting aside the realization that Callum had his eyes fixed on the column of her exposed throat. “What do you need me to do?” Lyra, Lyra, Lyra . The name filtered through her mind like a mantra. If there were anyone more connected to the depraved and dangerous than the Brotherhood, Dakota would be surprised.

“Come to the club tomorrow night. Do you remember where it is?”

Dakota ran her fingers through the tangles of her blonde waves. “I couldn’t forget if I tried.” She cleared her throat of the words that had slipped out before she could catch them .

A muscle ticked in Callum’s jaw. He nodded but said nothing as he turned away and disappeared around the corner of the garage bay.