Twelve
W hen all else fails, crime is the only option. Faced with nowhere to live, and one bag of measly crap to take with me, because my suitcases were either locked in that apartment, or at the clubhouse, I had to take drastic measures.
I walked the length of the high street, stopping in at the local chemist, because I needed something for my hand. It was swelling from a badly misplaced punch to a man’s face. I had a little cash, and unfortunately, I understood my priorities.
I waited in the queue to see the server, and when it was my turn, I showed her my hand.
“Can I get some anti inflammatories, and painkillers, please?”
She frowned, staring at my swollen fingers.
“What happened? Are you sure they’re not broken?”
I shrugged, feigning a nonchalance I definitely wasn’t feeling.
“I hit something, and I didn’t get it right. They still bend, but they hurt a lot.”
She insisted on calling the pharmacist over to take a look, and he gently assessed my fingers, agreeing that they weren’t broken, but that I needed two kinds of meds and a damn ice pack. I dug into my small amount of money to pay for them, and then I had to find somewhere to live. Even for one night.
Down from the high street was a small business, signposted as a vacant lot, showing that it was available for rent. I peered in the windows, which were scrubbed over with that white stuff they used to try and make such a thing impossible. It looked like it had been an office, or a surgery of some kind, and the large room I was looking at might have been a waiting room. It was devoid of furniture, of course.
I had to wait down the road for an hour, until it was dark enough, and then I sneaked back, finding my way around the side of the place, and forcing a window open. No alarms sounded, so I took a risk that I would get away with it, and climbed in, after tossing my bag inside. It was as basic as hell, but there was a bathroom, with a toilet and sink, and the water wasn’t switched off, so that was something.
The electricity was also working, but I couldn’t risk having lights on, so I found a small room at the back of the place, which I was now thinking might have been a dentist’s office, and used the meagre belongings I had to try and pad the hard floor, so I could sleep. It was dark, it wasn’t too cold, thankfully, because it was still summer, but it was lonely, and a little scary.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom before, but I’d found a new low. A lower low. The lowest low. I had no idea what I’d do when I woke, because I had nothing. No money, no home, no belongings, no family, no way to support my mother’s care. No Reacher. No anything.
The lack of Reacher was the part that really hurt, because we’d been building something. We’d been making real progress, and I’d been so sure that my future would include him, and the club. I’d have had family at last. A place. Hope. And now I’d lost it all.
The tears started then, and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t hold them back any longer. I curled up on my few clothes, on that cold hard floor, and sobbed until I fell asleep, where my dreams were filled with pain and sorrow, and loss. When I woke, crying again, I turned and looked for Reacher, before I remembered where I was.
“My god.” I sat up against the wall, and grabbed my phone, which was on silent. I prayed that there would be a missed call or a message from him. Anything.
Instead, I found several messages from Tori, and a missed call from her.
Tori : Are you okay? Ryder said you left.
Tori : Where are you? I can help.
Tori : Dammit Alicia, you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m so sorry I fucked everything up for you. Please, whether you hate me or not, contact me, so I know you’re okay.
Tori : I put money in your account. I still had the details from before. It’ll keep you going for a while. I’m so sorry I ruined things for you.
I used my app on my phone to check my bank account. There was a deposit of two thousand pounds from Tori’s account. Jesus. A light at the end of the tunnel. Most of it would have to go to the care facility, but at least I’d know my mother’s care was sorted for another couple of months.
Me : Thank you. I really want to say I don’t need it, and you didn’t have to, but I’m out of options. Thank you for making sure I can keep up with mother’s bills.
I turned my phone off after the message was sent, because as much as I wished Reacher would contact me, I couldn’t handle leaving the phone on for him not to. At least with the phone off, I could pretend that maybe he was trying, and just not able to get through.
I spent the rest of the night sitting against that wall, wondering where the hell to go next.
Reacher
I t was well after midnight by the time Stitch felt that I was sober enough to deal with the bastard in the basement, and quite honestly, I was itching to pound the face of some asshole, so I might have pretended to be a little more with it than I probably was.
We went down to the basement, joined by Torch and Micro, and stood in front of the man in the chair. He was tied firmly, arms to wrist rests, legs to chair legs, and an additional rope around his throat, a nice touch, probably added by Torch, the sadistic bastard.
He was conscious, but looked like he’d taken a few blows to the face already, probably when he was knocked out by one of them. I glanced at Stitch.
“Your handiwork?”
He shrugged. “Bastard was stubborn. Took a few hits to take him down.”
“You’re slipping, brother.”
He offered me a glare as he pointed at the guy.
“Bite me. He had a syringe in his pocket, with nothing but air in it. The bastard was going to stick Ice with it.” I turned to the guy in the chair, whose expiration date would be today.
“You wanna just talk now, so we don’t have to waste time beating the shit out of you? You’d prefer it to me setting Torch loose on you, trust me .”
The man smirked. “I’m not afraid of you losers. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.” He didn’t sound local, but the accent was definitely from around London way. I had no idea who he was, or who he thought he was, but it didn’t matter.
“Okay… well, you should be afraid of him. Everyone is, but since you seem to think you’re the big shit, why don’t you tell me who you are?”
“Go fuck yourself, old man.” The words old man should have pissed me off, but instead they made me think of Alicia. My Ally. Jesus. Not my Ally. Fucking hell. The rage came back, and I introduced the prick’s face to my elbow.
He laughed, spitting blood onto the concrete at my feet.
“This is gonna take ages if you’re just gonna tickle me like that. You wanna get one of the younger guys on this?”
Asshole. I grabbed his throat in both hands, choking him, and trying to wipe that smug grin off his face. He stopped smirking around the time his face started to darken, and his chest frantically flexed as he struggled against my grip.
I felt arms pulling at me, but I ignored them. Just a few seconds longer, just to shut the fucker up, and then maybe he’d talk. Maybe he’d realise that we’re not a joke. I’m not a fucking joke!
Someone punched me, and it distracted me enough that I fell back from the bastard, releasing his throat. I could hear gasping, and choking, but all I could see was Stitch. Stitch, who was right the hell in my face, and he was furious.
“This is exactly what I mean, Reacher. You’re not up to this. Leave it to me, please.”
I could hear mumbling behind him, with Torch and Micro both tending to, or heckling, our hostage.
“I can do this.”
“You’re out of control. This isn’t how we do things. That’s because you brought in strict rules, about everything we do, and you’re shitting on them right now.”
“Is the old man losing his marbles? That happens with advanced age,” the man croaked, before he yelled out in pain, either at the hands of Torch or Micro.
“Let me finish this. He either tells us, or I’m going to end him, right there in that fucking chair.”
Stitch looked behind him, then back at me.
“Reacher, this is about Alicia, okay? You’re messed up because of her. You need to step away from this, and focus on her.”
“Alicia? Ohhh… so the little whore wormed her way in with the Club President, huh? No wonder she thought she was safe.”
We all turned to glare at the tethered man, who, surprisingly, was still smirking.
“What the fuck do you know about Ally?” I roared, shoving my way past Stitch, to lunge at the guy.