Page 73 of Junkyard Dog

Ryan reached over to him and ran his hand over his forehead. “Surface cut,” he called over his shoulder to Bo, using his jeans to clean the blood from his fingers. “Fan out and start checking for injuries. Stay low to the ground.”

He sat against the bar, staring at his phone as it went to Charlotte’s voice mail for the fifth time. “I need to get to the park.”

“Our site’s fine,” Ryan yelled back, easing a young guy to his feet.

Bracing himself on the counter as another aftershock rippled through the bar, he trained his attention on the exit. “I need to go.”

Bo’s hand gripped his arm. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he growled. “We’re staying together, finishing off that bloodline, and getting the fuck out of this place tonight.”

He looked down at his twin’s bloodied hand before searching the room for Ryan, watching his brother calmly unbutton his shirt and press it against the neck of a man hunched on the floor. “I have to, Bo. I need to know she’s okay before I’m done here.”

Bo’s fingers dug into his arm before he released him, cursing loudly as he stormed over to Ryan and knelt beside him. Ryan looked over at Alex for a moment, his expression unreadable before he turned his attention back to the chaos in the room.

Pushing through the heavy wooden doors, he tried Charlotte’s number one more time.

Voice mail.

He jumped into the SUV and tore out of the lot, dodging a fallen power line as he turned onto the main drag.

Max.

Pulling up Max’s cell, Alex veered to the shoulder of the street to allow an ambulance to rip past him.

“Hello, Alex?” Max answered, panting and frantic. “Where are you?”

“Just left the Washout,” he replied, taking a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. “Where’s Charlotte?”

Max swore and the SUV swayed on the road, another aftershock rippling through the area. “She was supposed to be here.”

He smacked his fist off the steering wheel. “Where are you?”

“The tavern.”

Running his hand through his hair, he took a sharp right and sped up. “I’m a minute away. Did she work tonight?”

“She was supposed to be off two hours ago. Her phone’s going straight to voice mail.”

He pulled into the lot, the mayhem of evacuating patrons forcing him to abandon his SUV along the fire lane before he took off toward the entrance and pushed through the horde pouring through the open doors. Catching sight of Max, he sidestepped the overturned stools and made his way to the rangers, kneeling alongside the group as Jonas assessed Thomas.

“Alex, boy,” Thomas called over, lifting his hand toward the bar. “You walked out and the place fell apart.”

Scanning the elderly man over, he gave him a grim smile. “You can bill me for it tomorrow.” He turned to Max. “Where was she last seen?”

“The station,” Max replied, his bloodshot eyes giving away just how drunk he was before the earthquake hit. “We’re not getting an answer there either.”

*

Alex watched hisphone intently, pulling over once the Wi-Fi bars lit up. He threw his SUV into park and sat back.

The Keys.

The Mine.

The north entrance.

He’d run Charlotte’s usual route twice, crawling through the park as he scoured the terrain for any sign of her or her car.

Wherever she was, she’d gone off course.

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