Eleven
H e didn’t come down for dinner, so I sat and ate mine, while his was kept under a lid to keep it warm. It was good too; carbonara, really nicely made. Tommy was a damn good cook.
I didn’t understand what was keeping Reacher though, so eventually, I pushed my plate aside and picked his up to take it to our room. If he’d been caught up, the least I could do was take it to him. I knew he hadn’t come back down to his office, because I’d kept an eye on the stairs the whole time I was eating.
I was halfway up the stairs when I bumped into a prospect. I blanked on his name, Nick, maybe? He was carrying a holdall, and looked nervous when he saw me.
He also didn’t move out of my way, even stepping back into my way when I tried to move around him. Clearly they didn’t teach manners around here.
“I’m taking Reacher his dinner, can you let me past?”
He sighed heavily, and held up a hand.
“Jesus. Sometimes being a prospect sucks even more than I realised.”
“Because I want you to show some manners, and move aside to let me pass?”
He shook his head, another heavy sigh gushing out of him.
“Because I can’t let you up there, and because I’m under orders to take you back to the flat you were staying in.”
I felt my heart thudding in my chest, as his words permeated and dread set in.
“Why? Is Reacher okay? Let me go talk to him.”
He shook his head again. “I can’t, Alicia. This comes directly from Reacher. He said to grab your stuff, and move you back out of here, and that’s all I know.”
The delicious dinner I’d just eaten felt like a brick in my stomach, making me queasy.
“I don’t accept this. Let me talk to him.”
He cursed, blocking me again as I tried to edge past him.
“Please, don’t do this to me, Alicia. I have to do this. I’m only days from my patch vote.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about that. He can’t just discard me like this. Not now.”
My voice was sounding dangerously shaky, and I didn’t like it one little bit.
“You have to go,” Nick said with a groan. “I hate being the one in the middle of this.”
I turned and threw the plate at the wall, with a louder crash than I’d imagined. It was good though. The breaking of my fucking heart should be audible, so everyone could hear it, and see the mess it left behind.
“I don’t give a fuck how you feel! This isn’t some fucking job! This is… my god … this is us… me and Reacher…”
A door opened behind us, and I heard a curse. I knew it wouldn’t be Reacher, but I turned anyway, and Ryder stood there, gaping at us.
I looked from Nick back to him.
“Is this because of you? Because of Tori?”
He groaned, stepping further out of his room.
“What’s happening?”
I turned and marched over in his direction, planning a swift knee to his pathetic balls, before I stopped a few feet away, the anger draining from me as I looked at him.
“He knows?”
Ryder nodded, looking wary, like maybe he realised how close he came to re-internalising his own balls.
“I’m sorry. He overheard us talking. We tried, Alicia.”
I looked back at the stairs, which Nick had finally moved away from, as he headed in my direction, ready to throw me out.
“He’s kicking me out, Ryder, without a chance to even discuss it. God, this can’t be happening.”
Ryder grabbed the back of his neck, letting out a string of curses, as he stared at the ceiling.
“He was right. We’re fucking up everyone else’s lives. Jesus. Go, Alicia. Be safe tonight, and I’ll try and talk him round. I’ll try and make him listen.”
I swallowed hard, turning to snatch the bag from Nick.
“You know what? Don’t bother, Ryder. If this is how easily he can push me out of his life, then I guess all the feelings were on my side, and my side only. I’ll have to live with that.”
I started walking back towards the stairs, heading back down to the ground floor, with Nick running along behind me.
“ Don’t fucking touch me. I’ll find my own way from here.”
“He wants me to see you home.”
I glared at him, my hand on the door handle.
“Well, he can go fuck himself, can’t he? It’s not up to him. Nothing to do with me is any of his fucking business anymore.”
He followed me all the way to the gate, trying to grab me, as I yelled at the prospect there to let me out.
“Touch me and I’ll fucking kill you,” I warned him. He cursed, glancing back at the clubhouse.
“I have to take you home, Alicia. It’s an order from my President.”
I fixed him with a glare, and then drew back my fist, punching him squarely in the face.
“Tell your President he can go fuck himself.” I turned to glare at the prospect still hovering at the unopened gate.
“Unless you want the same, I suggest you open the fucking gate right now.”
He held his hands up, backing away to unlatch it, and draw it back.
I made it out of there and around the corner, before I broke apart, dropping my bag and cradling my throbbing fingers, as I cried. I slid down the wall of the compound, and sat there, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do next. I was still broke. I still had no home, or even a way to get back into the flat Tori had rented, because Reacher had the damn key. Homeless. Broke. Alone .
Reacher
I had a prospect deliver a bottle of scotch to me, and then I did my best to get completely black out drunk. I heard the yelling downstairs, when Alicia tried to come up here. I heard her yelling. Part of me wanted to forgive everything, and drag her up here. Never fucking let her go. But it would be a mistake.
Trust is so important in every relationship, business and personal, and without it, what’s left? If she could lie about that, she could lie about anything. Everything. Nothing she said could be trusted.
I watched from the window, as she tore out of here like a whirlwind of anger, the poor prospect trying to keep up with her. Damn, that was a solid right hook he just took. I grinned, despite myself. Despite everything. She was a fucking firecracker. How the hell could I be losing her this easily?
After the gates closed on her, I slid down and sat on the floor, with my back to the wall, bottle of scotch in hand, and I spent the next few hours doing my best to empty it.
The first call from Stitch went unanswered, as did the second, and by the time I’d made it blearily across the room in the dark, to answer the third one, I felt like I was going to throw up.
“Yeah.”
“You were asleep?”
As if I could fucking sleep right now.
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Well, I hate to disturb whatever the fuck you’re doing, but there’s been an incident here at the hospital.”
A little of the fog shifted, and I rubbed my face.
“You’re on Ice watch?”
“Yeah, and I need a couple of guys here asap. We caught someone trying to get into his room.”
Fuck! I staggered over to the kitchen, switching the kettle on. Time for some black tar coffee.
“I’ll get someone there now. Ice okay?”
I heard muttering in the background.
“Yeah, he didn’t get anywhere near him. Send someone to relieve me from watch. I want in on the interrogation.” There was more quiet mumbling in the background.
“I appreciate that, but it’s club business. Just leave him to us.”
“What’s going on?”
Stitch snorted. “Hospital staff didn’t take too kindly to us putting the guy out cold. They want to admit him.”
“Fuck that.”
“Hence the need for a pickup, brother.”
Shit. I ended the call, and rang Torch, my go to for shit like this.
“Yeah, Pres?”
“Got a job for you, brother. Some bastard just tried to attack Ice at the hospital.”
“Fucker! You want me to uh… show him the error of his ways?” Jesus. Even I shuddered when he talked like that. I knew what he was capable of, but he was also the deadliest guy on my crew, which meant he was less likely to get overpowered by some dickhead.
“Not quite. Take two other brothers with you, leave one guy to relieve Stitch, and the three of you bring this guy back, and put him downstairs.” He knew exactly where I meant.
“He that dangerous?”
“I’m not taking any chances. He overpowered Ice and nearly killed him, or at least that’s the assumption I’m making until I know more.”
Once the call was over, I knew I had a short time to try and sober up, before I tried to handle an interrogation. It was monumentally shit timing for this to happen, but at least we might finally have some answers about Ice.
I downed three strong coffees while I waited for their return, a fist banging on my door being my hint that I’d run out of sobering up time.
Stitch let himself in, took one sniff of the air, and cursed.
“Are you wasted?”
I shook my head. “Do I look it?”
He stared at me, running a hand through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated.
“Yeah, kinda. How much have you had?”
I nodded at the almost empty bottle.
“Fucking hell, Reacher. Uh… where’s Alicia?”
It hurt, it was a physical pain that shot through me, at the mention of her name. I cleared my throat, determined not to sound like I felt.
“Gone.”
He crossed the room, joining me by the kitchen counter.
“Jesus. You want anyone out looking for her?”
I shook my head. “I told her to leave.”
“Fucking hell, Reacher. What’s going on?”
I downed a fourth coffee, wincing as I burned my tongue and throat. It didn’t matter, when the pain in my chest was fucking agony right now.
“She’s a fucking liar, is what’s going on. Is the bastard downstairs?”
Stitch nodded. “Look, he’s not going anywhere, brother. We can hit this in the morning when you’ve rested.” Aka sobered up, right?
“You mean because you’re worried that I’m too fucked out of my face to hold a damn interrogation, brother.”
“Am I wrong?”
Suddenly I felt like punching his smug face, rather than being my usual barely contained self.
“Fuck you.”
Stitch glanced around him again.
“Have you eaten?”
I shrugged. I’m sure I did at some point, but I couldn’t remember when. Oh… yeah… I was supposed to eat with Alicia, and then I found out she fucked me, and not in a good way.
“Fuck’s sake. I’m gonna get some food sent up, and then you’re gonna talk to me. And when you’re more in control of yourself, and only then, I’ll take you down to interrogate our prisoner. You don’t want the others seeing you like this, right?”
Jesus. I sighed, because he was right, of course he fucking was. Everyone else was allowed to have their shit go wrong, and to let it all out, but not me. I’m their fucking President. They looked to me for advice, and support, and every other damn thing. So I had to pretend that my shit was always in hand, even though it was anything but.
Stitch patted my shoulder. “I’m gonna make more coffee. Go have a shower, and get your head straight.”
Fucker was right, and I wanted to punch him for that too. Instead, I went for a shower.