Page 17 of Breaking His Exile

Boone shook his head. “No. He doesn’t keep in touch.”

“Greta might,” Bear spoke up. The big man didn’t say much, so when he had something to say, everyone listened. “She’s…” He hesitated as if searching for the right word. “I wouldn’t call them friends, but he’s friendlier with her than anyone else. She’s used him as a backcountry guide for clients she couldn’t take herself. And you all saw him this spring, when she was going through all that shit. He showed up for her. So he might have told her.”

“She around? Can I talk to her?” Brandt asked.

Bear shook his head. “She’s out on a kayaking trip and isn’t due back until the day before the wedding.”

River turned to Brandt, and X saw the desperation in his eyes—the kind of desperation that made men do stupid things. “We have to go after them. Now. Tonight. Rainey’s out there with a killer, and we’re standing here talking about property lines and flood damage.”

“River.” Brandt’s voice was calm, but there was steel underneath it. “I understand you’re scared for your sister. But a careless search could lead the Sons of Sin directly to her. The club has placed a cash bounty on Evander Cole’s head, and they’ve ordered every Montana charter to find your sister. If we go charging into the mountains with half the ranch, we might as well light a flare.”

“So why are you involved, Brandt?” Jax asked. “A murder in a bar doesn’t seem like a case for the marshals.”

“It wouldn’t be normally, but Rainey Beckett is one of two federal witnesses in an ongoing RICO investigation. We’ve lost touch with the other witness—a woman named Sylvie Granger, Rux Granger’s estranged daughter—and we presume she’s dead. So the Sins have every incentive to silence Rainey before she can testify.”

X felt the room tilt. Federal witness. RICO. Sons of Sin. This wasn’t just a family emergency—this was a goddamn war, and Rainey Beckett was standing in the middle of it with nothing but a guitar.

River’s hands were shaking. X wanted to reach out again, to say something, to do anything that would make this less terrible. But there was nothing to say. Nothing that would help.

“Where do we start?” River asked, and his voice was raw, stripped down to nothing. “Tell me where to start, and I’ll go. I’ll go alone if I have to.”

“You’re not going alone.” Boone’s voice cut through the room, low and certain. “We’ll figure this out. But we do it smart, not fast. Fast gets people killed.”

River turned on him, and for a second, X saw something in River’s face he’d never seen before—something wild and desperate and barely contained. “That’s my sister out there, Boone. My little sister. She’s been gone out of my life for nine years, and I finally had a chance to see her again, and now some psycho has her in the mountains, and you want me to be smart?”

“Yes.” Boone didn’t flinch. “Because being stupid won’t bring her back. It’ll just get you killed too.”

The room went quiet. X watched River’s chest heave, watched the fight drain out of him, watched him fold in on himself like a house collapsing. Gemma moved then, crossing the room to stand beside River, her hand finding his. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, solid and warm, and X felt a strange twist in his chest—something like envy, something like grief.

“We’re coordinating with local law enforcement,” Brandt said, breaking the silence. “But not Sheriff Goodwin. His office is compromised—we have reason to believe the Sons have reach inside it.”

“Of fucking course,” Ghost muttered.

A murmur went through the crowd, and someone muttered, “November can’t come fast enough,” referring to the upcoming election for sheriff in which Ghost’s fiancée Naomi Lefthand was on track to trounce Goodwin.

“I’ve already talked to Naomi and alerted the tribal police. We’ll work through the federal task force, but that takes time. Boone, you know Cole better than anyone here. I need you to tell me everything you remember about him—his patterns, his habits, where he might go to ground. Walker, I need you to reach out to your contacts, see if anyone’s heard anything. And River⁠—”

Brandt paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I need you to stay here. I need you to let us do our jobs. Can you do that?”

River didn’t answer. He was staring at the photograph on the table, at the grainy image of his sister standing beside a stranger, and X knew he wasn’t hearing a word Brandt said.

“I’m going to his cabin. The one on the north ridge.”

“Riv—” Boone started, but River pinned him with a hard stare.

“I’m going.”

“Not alone.”

“Then come with me, but you’re not stopping me.” With that, he strode out, and the screen door banged shut as he pushed out.

Gemma winced and glanced over at X. “Go with him?”

“Yeah.” He was already planning on it, even before she asked.

five

The ride out to the north ridge was the longest X had ever taken, and they’d barely gone three miles. River rode point, his shoulders a hard line against the late afternoon light, and he didn’t say a word. Not one goddamn word. X kept waiting for the joke—the crack about Brandt’s horse, the movie quote, the off-key singing—but nothing came.