Thirty-Four
W hen I came out of the bathroom, he was pre-occupied. Worried. Instead of trying to carry on where we left off, I made tea for us, and encouraged him to sit down with me on the sofa. He picked up his mug and stared at it.
“What’s wrong?”
He sighed heavily. “I really want a fucking coffee.”
I slapped his arm, nearly making him spill it, and earning myself a delightfully sexy glare for my trouble.
“Be serious.”
He set the mug back down with a grimace.
“I actually am. I hate tea. I love coffee. Why the fuck can’t I just have coffee? At least one. Maybe even a weak coffee. Even… ugh… decaf…”
I raised my eyebrows at him, and he groaned, pressing at those studs in his eyebrow.
“It’s Stitch. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but he’s got some problem, on top of everything going on, and it’s weighing on him.”
“And he won’t talk about it?”
He ran a hand through his hair, and then smoothed his beard, all things I’d come to realise were stress reactions.
“Reacher, talk to him. Let him know you’re there for him.” He rolled his eyes at me.
“We’re not all touchy feely, woman. We’re fucking bikers. We drink and we talk shit, and when someone has a problem we fix it, usually with our fists. We don’t sit and talk like girls.”
I fixed him with a glare.
“Well, you’re not getting laid either, so what does that make you?”
“Jesus, woman. We were getting down to it, and now you want me to go and make nice with Stitch instead? That’s like a punishment.”
I giggled, but I knew he needed to be there right now and so did he.
“I don’t want you away from me, and you know that, but Stitch is your brother. You told me before that he’s the most important person to you. So you know you have to help him with whatever it is.”
He was reluctant, but he went, very grudgingly, and left to my own devices for a while, I finally went for a shower, because I just felt like I needed to relax and, even though I had a waterproof bandage on, I knew I’d have to be quick. Quick was something his discussion with Stitch was unlikely to be, and I hoped that there was nothing seriously wrong. Neither of them needed more pressure on them right now.
I towelled myself off, and realised my mistake. I didn’t take any clothes into the bathroom, and I really didn’t want to put my dirty ones back on, but… it was the strangest thing. Even though I knew that I was safe in Reacher’s room, I couldn’t bring myself to step outside the door when he was away from the room, not with just a towel to protect me. I tried. I tried several times to reach for the door, and my hand shook so much, I pulled it back.
What could possibly be on the other side of the door that could hurt me? I was in Reacher’s room in his fucking clubhouse. Nobody who wasn’t a biker could even get in. There were heavy gates, manned by prospects, but… but what if someone wasn’t really who they claimed to be? What if one of them was working for the cartel? What if one of them had turned on his brothers? They were out there, and they knew exactly where I was, where we all were.
That nervous energy grew, and ballooned into full-blown terror. Into a certainty that just on the other side of the door was danger. Evil . The death I’d barely avoided last time they had me.
I ended up sitting against the wall, with my knees pulled up to my chest, as my body trembled, and any tiny sound that reached my ears made me gasp with panic.
When I heard something move outside the door, that panic grew again, when it hadn’t seemed possible. I couldn’t breathe, because I knew that they’d found me again. That they would kill me this time. I’d never see Reacher again, never get to hold him again or be held by him. Never feel that sense of complete safety that I desperately needed, especially now.
The door handle turned, and that’s when I realised that I hadn’t even turned the small lock on the door, the simple lock that could be kicked through easily enough, because I’d felt safe. At the start I’d felt safe.
“The fuck…” The mumbled voice on the outside of the room was unfamiliar, and I screamed, slamming my body against the door, fighting to keep whoever it was on the outside, away from me, separated from me by the pathetic wooden door. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“The hell is going on, woman?”
The words permeated, but the voice didn’t, and I fought with the door some more, before it stopped moving.
“Ally? Ally, it’s ME. It’s Reacher. Let me in, woman.”
I backed up a few steps, my breaths burning my chest on the way out.
“R… Reacher?”
“Yes, woman, of course it’s me, for fuck’s sake.”
He didn’t sound angry. He just sounded confused, and so was I now. Now that the fear was dissipating, it was starting to feel unreal, distant. What had me so panicked that I freaked out like that? He turned the handle again, and the door eased slowly open.
“I’m coming in. Don’t hit me or some shit, yeah?”
I fought my breathing, which continued to come in raspy gusts, like I’d literally forgotten how to breathe normally.
Finally there he was; Reacher, with his short greying hair, and matching beard, those intense eyes, the furrowed brow above them. He was wearing his cut over a black t-shirt. Jeans. Boots. All familiar and normal. I felt like I was losing my mind, because why the hell did I freak out like that?
Reacher
S he was a fucking mess; shaking, red-faced from crying, and her breathing sounded painful. I shouldn’t have fucking left her. Jesus. I wrapped my arms around her and held her quivering body, as she buried her face against me.
What the fuck had happened between me leaving and returning? Did someone come in here? Did something fucking scare her?
I led her to the bed, dragging the covers around her, and trying to cocoon her, so she’d feel safer.
“Was someone in here? Did someone get into this fucking room?”
She was focusing on taking deeper breaths.
“That’s it, woman. Breathe, and then fucking answer me.” If someone came near her, I’d kill them. I’d kill them slowly, and painfully. I’d make them beg me for mercy, and I wouldn’t give it.
“No. Nobody came in. I don’t… I think I,” she cursed, rubbing her face, “I think that I had some kind of, God, I don’t know… I freaked out, okay? Suddenly I was afraid that someone would get to me, even here, and…” She sighed heavily, and looked away from me. “I’m not used to being afraid.”
I fisted her hair, making her look at me. I had the sneaking suspicion that gentle and calm wasn’t what she needed right now.
“Woman…”
She stared at me, silent, and nervy. Exactly the opposite of the way I liked to see her.
“If you don’t settle down, I’m gonna fuck your mouth until you forget what it feels like to be anything other than mine.”
She swallowed hard. “You think that’s going to magically stop me being afraid?”
“Won’t it?” She was chewing her lip, but didn’t answer.
“I mean, I’m not gonna make you kneel down, while you’re still recovering like that. See how good I am to you? I’m gonna do all the work, woman. All you have to do is open your mouth, and that’s your specialty.”
She snorted, and then laughed out loud.
“You cocky bastard. You’re lucky I love you, or I’d punch you in the dick for saying that.”
I couldn’t fight the grin that spread across my face. There she is. There’s my fucking feisty goddess of a woman.
I stood up, and stroked myself through my jeans. It wasn’t just idle chat. I was hard as a fucking rock. I’d held off for as long as I could, both for her health and mine, but it was killing me to be near her and not touch her.
Ally blinked at me, watching as I unbuttoned my jeans, and shoved them down, just enough to reach into my boxers, and fist my cock. I let out a low groan as I stroked it, savouring the poor bastard finally getting some attention. Even if it was just my damn hand.
“You just gonna stand there playing with yourself?”
“Uh… aren’t you missing two words at the end of that question?” Suddenly I needed her to say them, needed the normalcy. The Ally of before.
She grinned, looking a little more like her old self.
“Old man…” She bit her lip, and I reached down, grabbing her chin.
“Gonna stuff that sassy mouth of yours now, woman. Gonna fuck it until you choke on my dick.”