Twenty
T hat didn’t go well, not at all. I mean, it started off okay, and it slowly got better, but then it went to crap.
“Reacher, calm down. You had to know this would happen.” Stitch had followed us back to Reacher’s room, and he was doing his best to diffuse the situation.
“Of course I didn’t know it would happen. I thought my brothers were a little more open-minded than this.”
He went straight for the bottle of bourbon on the kitchen counter, and poured several shots. We all grabbed one, before I went back to sit at the dining table. Even though the conversation literally included me and my future, I felt removed from it.
This was really about Reacher, and the fact that his brothers, his family, had just voted against me being his old lady. Who even knew that could happen? I sure didn’t. I felt numb. I felt like if we’d fought through what had happened between us, to reach the point where I actually really wanted to be his, and he was finally not pushing me away, how the fuck could it now not happen?
“Pres… think about it. Of all the times to mention that you were claiming her… after telling everyone about the cartel, and her connection to it, probably wasn’t the optimal time.” Stitch was making good sense, being logical, but Reacher was too angry to see it. And me? I was hurt. Hurt by their rejection, and even more by the fact that their feelings could affect whether I had the relationship I wanted, or not.
“What am I supposed to do, Stitch?” Reacher leaned on the kitchen counter, staring at his VP like he’d have all the answers.
“Look… I don’t think it’s a definite no forever. I think it’s more like, right now, they can’t see past what’s happening with Ice… with the cartel. Once we clear all of that shit, then maybe they’ll feel differently.”
I drank the bourbon in my glass, and stared morosely at the table surface.
“Maybe they’ll never change their minds, and who could blame them? I’m hardly an asset to the club. I’m just another fuck up. Another mess that needs clearing up.”
“Jesus, Ally, don’t look at it like that. We’ll… I don’t know… it’s no for now, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on you. They’ll come around, like Stitch said.”
“So why are you losing your shit right now? It sounds more serious than you’re trying to make me believe.”
Stitch came over and poured me another drink.
“Look, we’ve had a lot of crap to go through lately, and right now we need to get Ice home, and keep him from falling back into all of that shit he’s been caught up in. And at the same time, we need to somehow keep a drug cartel from either attacking and killing you, or other members of the club, or from decimating our market in the local and connected areas. The drug trade makes up a large chunk of our monthly income here.”
I hadn’t even known they were involved in drugs. How did I run from a drug cartel, straight into the arms of a biker club who also dealt in drugs. Why was everything about drugs? I’d never taken anything myself, but of course, I’d supplied Tori for her rapetastic endeavours, so maybe this was my karma, for helping her do those things.
“I could contact Raoul, and see if I can make a deal,” I offered, watching Reacher’s face darken with rage again.
“That’s him? The fucker you were doing?”
Wow, really? “This is what you’re pissed about? Not the fact that I’ve fucked up everything, but that there was one other man I fucked this year?”
He drank another glass of bourbon before he answered, like he was steeling himself, or biting back something he shouldn’t say.
“I don’t want you even speaking to the fucker.”
The territorial thing had been hot earlier, but now it was annoying. Especially if Reacher and I still wouldn’t get to be together.
“You don’t control who I speak to.”
“You’re my fucking old lady, so damn right I do. You’re not speaking to any of them.”
I stood up, the unfairness of the entire situation making me rigid and furious.
“But I’m not, am I? Because your club, your family , don’t think I’m worthy of you, and they’re fucking right, Reacher. Look at me! I’m a middle aged fucking woman. I’m on the wrong side of forty, and penniless, worthless, fucking useless. What do I bring to the club? Oh… that’s right, trouble. That’s all I bring. I mean, you seem to like fucking me right now, but that’ll wear off, because maybe that’s all there is between us. Great sex. I mean, it wasn’t that good with Raoul, but maybe that’s what I deserve. Mediocre sex with an abusive-”
“Abusive? He hurt you? Did he fucking hit you?” Reacher slammed his glass down, and how it didn’t shatter, I have no idea.
“Reacher, calm down.” Stitch didn’t move to try and stop him or calm him, but he could see the storm coming a mile off. We both could.
“This bastard hurt you?”
I shrugged it off, because that wasn’t the point I was trying to make, was it?
“Of course he hurt me. He’s with a drug cartel. The fact that he never forced me onto drugs is the bit I’m grateful for, although maybe it would have helped me through it. He looks fondly on our time together for some reason, but I don’t.”
“I’ll kill him.” The words were more than a threat, or a promise. It was like a royal declaration, a certainty, and I liked it. The thought of Raoul never getting his hands on me again. The thought of just being Reacher’s until I left this life. It would be perfect, if only his club didn’t hate me.
“Come on, man, maybe we could focus on a plan first, to shut them down before they make a real play for our market.”
Stitch, ever the peacemaker, ever the one to drag things back to the matter at hand when they escalated. I could see why they made such a good team. Reacher was definitely the heart of the operation, but Stitch was the brains, because of his cold clarity, and the way he assessed things with an open mind. Maybe that was just because his heart wasn’t on the line right now. Maybe if the situation were reversed, Reacher would be the voice of reason for him. Who knows?
Reacher
H aving my brothers physically vote against my old lady, right in front of me, to my fucking face, was agonising. It was like being pissed on from a great height. I’d finally found the other half of me, and they wanted to keep us apart.
I was beyond furious. I was beyond heartbroken and betrayed, but Stitch was right. Fixing all of this crap would be the only way to get them to accept her, once and for all. So all we had to do was dispose of a drug cartel. Easy fucking peasy. There was one obvious place to start, wasn’t there?
“Where are the drugs, woman? Where are you hiding them?”
She smirked suddenly. “Right under their fucking noses, that’s where. It was like, my way of rubbing their faces in it.”
I took a deep breath, before I lost my shit again.
“Well, I’m gonna need a few more fucking details than that.”
“Try to remember who you’re pissed at, Reacher, because I’m not the enemy here.”
Ouch. I felt that right in my chest, and my hand moved there without a conscious thought.
Stitch cursed and stepped between us.
“Look, I realise this is a fucked up situation, because apparently that’s how this club fucking rolls now. Alicia, please, give us exact details of where the drugs are. We won’t move them, but we need to know if they are going to be part of our deal with them.”
“Deal?” She clearly expected some kind of carefully planned assault, rather than a deal.
He cursed again, and honestly I’d never heard him swear so much. He was often quite restrained, at least around women.
“We start out with an offer. A deal. Something to try and maintain peace between us, like they can have the fucking North of the country, but they stay the hell out of London and our districts. If that goes to hell, we have a plan B, and so on. I’ve got no desire to send our men out there to fight with cartel bastards, because I guarantee you, we’ll come off worse. Your hidden drugs, and even you, present us with bargaining options.”
“You’re not fucking offering her to them,” I snapped, slamming a fist down on the counter. She looked like she wanted to speak up, maybe even fucking agreeing to that bullshit, but realised it was better to stay out of it right now.
“Of course I’m not suggesting that, but they’re not going to settle for just getting their drugs back. She owes money too, and this Raoul guy probably thinks she’s his, so unfortunately, Alicia will be mentioned at some point.”
I cursed, pacing, and glaring at both of them for a few moments, then I asked the one question neither of us had asked yet.
“How much do you owe?”
And there’s the question she clearly didn’t want to have to answer. She picked up the bottle of bourbon and poured herself another glass, dragging out the moment, and avoiding our eyes for a moment.
“Ally, Jesus, how much?”
She drank the contents of the glass, turning to face us, her eyes dropping to the floor.
“Thirty thousand pounds.” What the fuck!