Eight
T he weekend was quiet, boring even. I spent a little time with my brothers, trying to pretend that every single minute wasn’t a fucking struggle, and I went to bed Sunday night actually excited to see Dr Chase the next morning. Not because it could help me with the hell I was in, but because I wanted to see her. How fucked up was that?
So when I headed down in the morning to find out who was driving me to my appointment, I quickly realised that something was going on.
Reacher was yelling at someone, and brothers were scrambling out on bikes.
“What’s going on?” I stepped up beside Reacher, and he cursed.
“What else? A whole mess of crap that we have to drop everything to resolve.”
I looked around me, realising pretty much everyone was gone all of a sudden, except us. And I had no idea what had happened, because nobody was telling me a damn thing.
“Reacher. I’m not a fucking liability. Tell me what’s happening?”
He sighed, turning to look at me.
“Mafia shit. Because we need more fucking drama. Suddenly we’re at their fucking beck and call, and I swear to god, if a single brother is injured, I’ll kill Rossi myself.”
I followed him as he headed for his office, catching the door in my hand as he reached his desk, dropping heavily into his chair.
“What do you need, Pres?” I felt the old familiar urge to get to work, and support my club.
“A fucking coffee for a start.” I started to move, figuring it was as good a place as any to start.
“Wait! Don’t worry. I’m not… I’m not drinking coffee anymore. A fucking travesty that is, but ugh… okay… so the guys are supporting Rossi’s men in shutting down the last of the cartel operations over here. I guess technically that’s our problem too, but I’m still pissed that they called us in like they fucking own us.”
I closed the door and sat down with him.
“How the hell are they in a position to send us anywhere? It was a tentative alliance, right? Not some kind of reciprocal… Jesus, Reacher… is this because of something I did? Because of what happened to me?” Hell. Now I felt like an even bigger asshole.
“It is, isn’t it? What the fuck? How did this happen?”
He cursed, rubbing at his eyebrow.
“Needed someone to do what you do, while you were out of commission. No such thing as ‘no strings attached’ with mafia. It’s okay, kid. It’s not your fault.”
He looked exhausted, and I felt ten times worse every minute.
“Of course it is. I went after the cartel. I was gathering intel, so we could plan something, and I got made. It’s that simple. I fucked up, and you’re all paying for it. Jesus fucking Christ. When are you going to realise that I’m dead weight, Reacher? You’re best off kicking me out, and rebuilding without me fucking things up every chance I get. I’m toxic. I’m a disaster. And I’m just… I’m out, you need to take my cut … take my cut, and throw me out.” My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. I was terrified. This was the one thing I’d never wanted, and here I was, literally telling him to do it. Telling him to take everything from me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, waiting for his response.
“Ice?”
I let out a sharp breath.
“Yeah…”
“Get the fuck out of my office, dipshit. You’re not going anywhere, but if you keep talking like that, I’ll smack some sense into you. Get your ass better, so we can rely on you again. That’s all I want from you right now.”
A surge of relief made me feel weak all over for a few seconds, as I ran a shaky hand over my face.
“Really?”
“We don’t give up on our brothers, Ice. You have some stuff to sort out, and then you’ll be back on top again. I don’t doubt that you can do it. What I do doubt is whether this whole relationship with Rossi and his minions is gonna work out. Fuck it… one problem at a time.”
My phone was buzzing in my pocket, and I eased it out, just as Reacher asked me what time my next appointment was.
“Fuck. I’m late.”
The call was from Dr Chase.
Lissa
F or someone so apparently desperate for an appointment, he was late, and the later he became, the more worried I felt, because what if something had happened? What if he’d slipped, and fallen back into his addiction?
What if… oh god… what if he’d done what so many recovering addicts do? Fallen back into his old pattern, by using the same quantity of drugs he’d been used to? It was a fast ticket to an overdose, every time, because their bodies were no longer used to it, and it was how we lost so many people on this journey.
It was sheer panic that led to me ringing him.
“Doc! Jesus, I’m sorry…”
He was alive. He sounded well, and that pushed me from worried, to angry.
“You wanted this appointment, Ice.”
He cursed under his breath, apologising to whoever he was with, a gruff voice responding to him in kind.
“I did. I do. Look, I’m really sorry. Shit happened here at the club, and uh… Jesus. I could try and get a taxi or something, but I don’t think I’ll make it in time either way. Fuck. Normally someone drives me. Reacher won’t let me on my fucking bike yet.”
Wow. He really did sound keen to meet up for his session. Today was supposed to be my day off. We normally worked three or four days a week, taking time for other responsibilities, or recuperating from the hell we are privy to in our job. I’d gone in specially for his appointment.
“I could come to you.”
The words were out of my mouth before I realised what I was saying.
He was silent for a moment.
“You’d come here? To the clubhouse?”
Shit. A clubhouse? That didn’t sound very private.
“Is there a private space where we can talk? Otherwise, I can uh… rearrange some things.” Why didn’t I just tell him that I had no other appointments, because I’d given up my personal time for him. Why did I even keep doing that?
“Doc?”
I cleared my throat. “Uh… yeah. I could come there. Text me the address, and I’ll head straight to you.”
He was silent for a moment.
“Wow, thank you. I’m… I’m so grateful for this, Doc.”
“Call me Lissa. Oh god, no, wait. I shouldn’t… Dammit. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Gotcha. Thanks, Doc.”
I’m such a moron. This isn’t a fucking date. Call me Lissa? What the hell was that? I checked the address he sent within seconds of the call ending, and grabbed my things, heading back out of my office.
“Everything okay, Lissa?” I nodded at Cammy.
“Yeah. He uh… called to apologise, but he got held up. I don’t have anything else, so I’ll carry on with my day off. Unless I’m needed?” Please say no. Why was I pretending that I was going home? Why was I hiding the fact that I was visiting him? Wasn’t that exactly the proof I needed that what I was doing was wrong?
She shook her head, waving me away.
“Dickhead shouldn’t make appointments he can’t keep, and you shouldn’t book them on your day off. Get out of here, woman.”
I made it to my car, and sat for a moment. Was I really doing this? Driving to a biker clubhouse, for an appointment that I shouldn’t even have taken? I started the engine. Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. For the good of my client. That’s all.
Finding the place wasn’t difficult. It had clearly once been a business park or something, but it looked more like a compound now. The high wall around the place seemed forbidding, and the heavy metal gates looked like they’d keep a zombie horde out.
A young guy in a leather waistcoat came out to see me.
“Sorry, lady, private property.”
I nodded, a little surprised at the security around the place.
“I’m here to see Ice.”
He frowned. “You are? Hang on.” He dialled a number and spoke to someone, hopefully Ice. His eyebrows practically reached his hairline.
“Okay. Sorry, Dr Chase, I’ll get the gates. Park up near the building, and Ice will meet you at the door.”
I thanked him, and then watched, fascinated, as they drew back the heavy gates, for me to drive in. Inside the compound there were a couple of cars, a van or two, and a lot of motorbikes. All lined up. All shiny with all kinds of artwork on them. They were stunning. I parked up as advised, and eased myself out of the driving seat, my eyes still on the motorbikes. I’d never been on one. Never been brave enough, or in a position to try, but they had my attention now.
“Hey, Doc, thanks for coming.” Ice was standing beside me, and he grinned when I turned to look at him.
“Mine’s the blue one, sixth in line from the front bike. Front is Reacher, of course. Then our VP… although I haven’t seen him for a few days. Anyway. Uh… can I get you a coffee? We have a bar, with a very talented prospect behind it.”
“A bar?” He grinned, and nodded his head to the door.
“Come on in.”
I stared around in awe at the place, which had clearly been a business premises, but was decorated with so many pictures of bikers, and some of their waistcoats in frames and stuff. I wanted to ask so many questions, but I wasn’t here for that. I followed Ice to a bar; an actual bar, in what looked like a large lounge. It was a little less well kept than the hallway, but I figured that was down to heavy use of the area, and it being a bar.
“Tommy, this is Dr Chase. Can you get us a couple of coffees?”
I stepped up beside Ice, and smiled at the young guy called Tommy. He wore one of those leather vests too, but without patches on the front.
“Black please. One sugar.”
He nodded, and turned to make drinks for us. On the back of his vest was the word ‘PROSPECT’, and a smaller version of the logo I’d seen on the other vests.
“I can’t thank you enough for coming out here, Doc. I felt like such a prick when I realised I was so late.”
I shrugged, even though it had been frustrating.
“Things happen. The main thing is that you’re doing your best to stick to our appointments.”
He glanced behind me and cursed.
“You’re about to meet my Club President. He’s probably planning to poke his nose in.”
I looked behind me to see a large, older man striding in our direction. He had greying hair and a greying beard, a pierced eyebrow, and tattoos on his bare arms. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with the obligatory club waistcoat. Ice was wearing one too, and it was the first time I’d seen him wearing it. I tried not to notice how much hotter it made him.
“Reacher, this is Dr Chase. She’s trying to fix my fucked up head,” Ice sounded frustrated, and embarrassed by his President’s presence.
I shook his hand as he stopped in front of me.
“Nice to meet you, uh… Reacher?”
He nodded, a grin appearing briefly.
“Pleasure, Doc. I hope he’s behaving. Seriously though, thank you. He’s pretty important to us, so we need him back, yeah?”
I glanced at Ice, who was rubbing at his hair in that agitated way he sometimes did.
“He’s making a lot of effort, and trust me, that’s the biggest part of the battle. If he remains willing, then I don’t doubt that we can help him get back to who he is, without his addiction.”
“I’m right fucking here,” I heard him mutter under his breath.
Reacher snorted. “On that note, I’m gonna go back to my office, and get some work done. Anyone seen Ally?” I saw Ice and Tommy shake their heads. He nodded at me as he turned to leave, his phone already at his ear. “Woman, I need you down in my office. Now .”
He sounded pissed off. “Is she in trouble?” I looked at Ice warily, hearing him laugh.
“ Always . She’s his wife.”
Huh… I thought they had another name for wives in biker clubs.
“There she goes.” I saw an older woman with long blonde hair hurrying down the stairs, and down the hallway in the same direction Reacher had gone.
“Uh… so we can either talk here, like in the corner over there, or in my uh… my room,” Ice was saying, as I turned to look at him. His room? I swallowed hard.
“Is any part of this room private enough? You need to be able to speak freely, and open up to me.” What am I saying? That’s like saying ‘let’s just go to your room and fuck’.
He stared around the room.
“It’s not really private enough here, but I don’t want to make you go into my private space. That’s not fair on you. I could see if Reacher will let us use his office.” I pictured the weary looking man, who’d just disappeared in that direction, closely followed by his wife. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t want to be disturbed right now.
“I appreciate that, Ice, but if you have a seating area in your room, I’m sure we can make it work.”