Twenty-Five
W hen Reacher came to see me next, I figured that this would be it. The final nail in my coffin, and I even wondered if his final act of revenge would be to never tell me if they rescued the kid, or how Sophie was.
I certainly never expected the first words that come out of his mouth.
“Sophie says you’re a changed man. A good man . She thinks the sun shines out of your fucking ass.” The old me would have shrugged, and mouthed off at him, but I’m not that guy anymore, not deep down where it counts.
“I’m glad she saw that in me. I never knew it was there, but turns out a lot of what I imagined wasn’t real.”
Reacher had dragged a chair over from the corner of the room, and sat down directly opposite me, looking wearier than I’ve ever seen him. I almost asked if he was okay, but it wasn’t my business, was it?
“Like your perfect fucking father?” His tone was sharp, but I deserved that, and I also knew he was right to judge the way I’d stood up for that fucker.
“Yeah, like him. I was a kid growing up in this building, the son of the Pres, the legacy. I had fucking stars in my eyes, thinking one day I’d be the shit.”
He scratched his neck, nodding at me to continue. I had no idea why he was letting me talk, and actually listening, but I was pretty sure this was the most important conversation I’d had under this roof.
“I was raised to believe that cruelty and brutality were the norm, the perks of being a real man. You know how many beatings it takes to turn a kid into a real man, Reacher? Too many, apparently.”
He sighed, but didn’t speak, so I figured I should fill the silence.
“I thought he was a god, I thought he was a fucking king, sitting here ruling his club with an iron fist, surrounded by sexy women, and as much coke and shit as you could ever want. It was like utopia or something, but it was all a fucking lie.”
Reacher snorted, but he was listening, and that had to count for something.
“Reacher, I-”
“Tell me about your mother.” Oh shit. I slumped in the chair a little, not wanting to talk about that, about her, about my part in her death.
“Tell me.”
I swallowed against my dry throat, and wished for something to fucking wet it, or for the million other things a man needed to feel alive, or to feel like he had a chance of surviving.
“I didn’t know who she was,” I said finally, “they were brutalising her, and I could hear her begging, crying, asking them to stop. I was dumb enough to try and speak up for her, but I was a kid, what the fuck did I know?”
Reacher’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t speak. He was just wanting me to keep fucking pouring out my soul here, but was he actually going to believe any of it, even though it was all the truth?
“They forced me to fucking grope her, okay? While they fucked her to death, they made me touch her too. My own fucking mother! I… Jesus , I didn’t know. I found out later, years later when… when…” I gagged against the rising bile in my throat. “I didn’t know, but I helped them hurt her. Who does that, Reacher? Who helps men kill his own mother?” I could feel the tears on my cheeks, and I hated myself for it, for showing that weakness, for not being able to hide it, to brush away the evidence of it. “Men don’t cry,” I hissed at myself, trying to make my inner pussy listen, and actually fucking hear it for once.
“Touching her isn’t helping to kill her,” Reacher said softly, and was that pity in his eyes? It couldn’t be.
“I never even knew her name, but she knew mine. Jesus, she… she knew, and she felt my touch ugh-” I gagged again, this time turning my head just in time to try expelling the bitter bile in my throat, and mouth. Reacher leaned over and cut the bonds from my left hand, so I could lean further over to my right and puke. He did that for me. Was it kindness? Was it further cruelty, to show me hope, so he could take it away?
I brushed the back of my free hand over my mouth as I straightened back up, and he was holding out a bottle of water for me. I blinked dumbly at it for a few moments, not really believing that he was doing something for me.
“It’s okay, take it.”
He’d already removed the lid so I lifted it to my mouth, and rinsed with the first mouthful, spitting it to my side again, and then I drank, and I fucking drained that bottle. My stomach clenched painfully, and I wondered if it’d even stay down, but I needed it.
“Thanks,” I said, as he took the empty bottle back and laid it on the floor beside him.
“Maybe it was poisoned,” Reacher said lightly, sitting back again, but I found myself grinning at him.
“Never expected poison to taste so good, but still, thank you.”
He cleared his throat and I knew a serious question was coming. A lifechanging one. I just hoped I’d have the right answer for him, not for me, but for Soph, and her sister. They were all that mattered now.
“Why go after our old ladies? Why not come straight for me and Stitch? Was it cowardice?”
Shit . I glanced down at my free wrist, at the red lines and bruised skin, as if I’d find the answer there.
“Honestly?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m here for more of your lies.”
“I think I’d pretty much come to love living here, but the old ladies changed that. Not because it meant we couldn’t all cut loose, that was just macho bullshit I hid behind. Because it showed me that you and Stitch got your happy ending, while you cut dad’s short. It was like a kick in the gut, like look at us living the big life, while he’s worm food.”
Reacher opened his mouth, but it snapped closed again, and he nodded once.
“You nearly killed Ally. You nearly took the most important person in my life.”
I nodded, but had to open my mouth too, because when would I get another chance to say this shit.
“I was aiming for you, but you both changed direction at the last second, and I couldn’t manoeuvre in time. At that point, I was honestly gunning for you.”
He leaned forward and raised his hand and, for a moment, I think he really was planning to hit me, but the tension left him, and he sat back again.
“If you’d just come at us guys, maybe this could have been worked out, but you went for our women. You went for what matters most to us. You went for people we’d die for, and now, what? We’re supposed to forgive that, because you’ve found yourself a nice lady? She got magic pussy or something?”
“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! You wanna come at me, you come at me… Jesus …” He smirked at me, as he saw his point hitting me right in the balls. “Well played,” I murmured, and he angled his head at me. A sort of nod.
“Look, right now, we need to get that kid out of trouble, and that means I’m gonna do something crazy here. Fuck us, and it’s the end of the line. You save the kid, and then you get back here for your club justice.” What? I sat up straighter.
“You’re gonna let me go rescue her?”
“I’m a fucking idiot, but looks that way.” He cut the tie on my other wrist, and handed me the knife, while I stared at him in shock.
“I ain’t getting on my knees to cut you free, fucker. You’ll do it, and give that right back, or you’ll die right here.” Something about the expression on his face convinced me, even though I was fully intending to toe the line. The old me would have jammed this knife up under his ribs, and carved out his fucking heart.
“Thank you. Do we have intel on whether the Rogues definitely have her?” Reacher took the knife back and tucked it away, as I struggled up from the chair, and groaned as my stomach clenched on nothing but water, and my shoulder and chest throbbed from my injuries.
“Can I get some painkillers, so I’m of use, by the way?”
Reacher groaned, and gestured for me to walk ahead of him, not trusting me at his back.
“So you’re already making demands, huh?”
I started up the stairs without answering, because it wasn’t really a question, even if he’d pitched it like one.
“Ice will have an update for me when we get upstairs. You’ll stay quiet and listen. Jesus, you stink. Did you piss yourself in there?”
I laughed, even though it wasn’t exactly funny, but lock a guy up for hours with no toilet, and he’s likely to pee. For the record, I hadn’t, but I knew I smelled sweaty and disgusting.
When we reached the first floor, Reacher shoved me into the waiting arms of Torch and Has, who immediately shoved me into the room I sometimes bunked in.
“You have five minutes to shower or whatever, because I’m not sitting in a room with you smelling like that,” Torch said, as he sat on the bed and waited. Has was standing by the bedroom door, glaring at me like he thought he could kill me with just his eyes.