Eight
W hat were the chances? It was her, and thank fuck she wasn’t Lissa, because when I finally got my head in the game, and realised my victim from last night was right in front of me, in this place, my sudden thought was that I’d made kissy face with my brother’s old lady, and that shit is never alright.
Thank fuck she wasn’t, but then either way, I wasn’t exactly winning her over, was I? Was there any point in trying though? Even if she liked me, my days were seriously numbered, and was it worth letting her get hurt by making friends with her, let alone anything more?
“Here.” She’d made me a coffee to my requirements, and one for herself. We stood in the small kitchen area, even though there was a table with chairs right beside us. Maybe they were for real clients.
“Thanks. Look, even though you’re not who I thought you were, I’m still sorry. Practically jumping you in a hallway like that was out of order. Consent is important to me, and I never even gave you that chance.”
Camille shrugged. Camille . Was there a more beautiful fucking name out there? Why the hell did she shorten it to Cammy? It didn’t suit her. She was gorgeous, but in a really classy way, like too classy for a loser like me. She had so much long dark hair, it was flowing down her back with some sparkly things pinning the sides away from her face. Her brown eyes were warm and friendly, but there was a hint of something there. Mischief? Yeah, I think that’s it. Elegant and yet, challenging, maybe even dangerous.
“If it helps, you had my consent, Stitch. If I hadn’t wanted you touching me, I’d have kneed you in the nuts pretty sharpish.” Fuck. That felt like a literal kick to the… one remaining fucking nut. She didn’t know, she couldn’t, but it hurt just the same. I sucked in a breath, and focused on my coffee, trying to calm down the way I felt like I could break inside at the reminder.
Her hand suddenly rested on my arm again.
“I said something wrong, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I liked it, really I did. If you’d wanted more, I’d have given it freely.” Wow, she thought my reaction was about the consent issue, and not… maybe she didn’t know. I wasn’t sure who knew about me now, because originally we’d tried to keep it quiet, but Reacher had to tell the club a little, with me being gone so long.
“Thank you for saying that, but it doesn’t excuse my behaviour.” I managed a few words, but she was shaking her head.
“Stitch, I’m saying I was into you. Hell, I’m saying I’d still let you go further if you wanted to. I sound like a cheap tart, don’t I? No wonder you’re looking so uninterested, but, I go for what I want, and-”
“Everything okay here?” There was another woman in the doorway. She was dressed smartly, and had her red hair pinned up conservatively.
“Hey, Lissa, this is Stitch. We were just getting to know each other, before I sent him in.”
She covered for me. She covered for my… well, my clear lack of balls.
And this was Lissa? She couldn’t be further from what I’d imagined would be his type. See, I was still being an asshole, but at least it was in my head this time.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Stitch. Everyone speaks so highly of you.” She reached out one delicate hand to me, so I shook it.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, guess I needed to steady my nerves a bit first.”
She glanced at the mug in my hand, then looked at Camille.
“With coffee. I can’t say it’s the best idea, but feel free to bring it with you. Thanks for waiting with him, Cammy.”
She turned to walk out, and I glanced at Camille, then shrugged and followed her. She couldn’t make me speak if I didn’t want to talk, right?
Cammy
I t was him. It was really him, and wow, he was so much hotter in daylight, but he had a vulnerability that made me want to mother him, at the same time that I really wanted to be something very different to him.
So he was the VP, who Lissa had never met before, which made sense because my vague description had left her confused. Why hadn’t she met him though? I thought biker clubs were really tight, and he clearly lived at the clubhouse, because he’d run off up those stairs, hadn’t he?
The phone rang and I lunged at it, because finally, something to do.
“Phoenix Therapy, this is Cammy.”
“Hey Cammy, it’s Reacher. Everything good?”
I glanced around me and then caught on to what he was asking.
“Oh! You mean did Stitch come to see Lissa? Yeah, he’s with her right now.”
I actually heard his sigh of relief.
“Thank fuck for that. I was fully prepared to drag him by the scruff of his neck if he refused.”
Wow. It was clearly pretty serious, whatever the hell it was. I desperately wanted to know, but it wasn’t my business. At least not yet.
“I’m glad to confirm that it wasn’t necessary, Reacher. He could be a while though. Lissa has no other clients scheduled today, so she’ll give him as long as he wants, I guess.”
A raised voice in Lissa’s office caught my attention, and I turned to see if the door would open. There was no further shouting, so I shrugged it off, and turned back to face the desk.
“If there are any issues, call me back on this number.” He rattled off a number which I suddenly realised I had already, because when Ice set up the security, he also listed a bunch of numbers to ring for help, starting with Reacher and him.
“I will. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but he’s lucky to have someone who cares to make sure he seeks help for his issues.”
He cleared his throat. “You know anything about his situation?”
Uh oh. Had I said something wrong? I was too good at that with these damn cagy bikers.
“No sir. Just trying to say that Lissa’s good at what she does. I’m glad she’s branching out into other areas of therapy, and not just rehabilitation.” Oh, maybe Stitch is an addict after all. I hadn’t even considered it because he seemed troubled, but not antsy. Had I been judging him through rose-tinted lenses, though?
“Uh yeah. She’s helped me with getting some stuff off my chest. I know she’ll be vital for some of the guys here. Men tend to bottle shit up, so yeah, talking to someone like Lissa might be the difference between healing, and taking more extreme measures.”
I felt a pit of fear in my stomach then. Was he talking about Stitch? How much more extreme were we talking? Was he… was he suicidal?
“Uh, Reacher… she’s safe with him, yeah?”
He was silent for a beat too long.
“Why would you ask that?” Oh god. I turned to look at the door again.
“There was shouting in there.”
He cursed. “Is there still shouting?”
“No.”
“Is there any way to discreetly check in with Lissa?”
My shoulders relaxed then, because of course there was.
“Ice installed a panic button by her chair, sir. If Lissa needs help, she’ll press it to alert me. If she presses and holds, it goes straight to Ice.”
“Sneaky bastard. Okay, good. She shouldn’t be at risk with Stitch, but he’s on edge, more than I’ve ever seen before. I’m gonna head on over, and wait with you for him, just in case.”
As I put the phone down, my hand was trembling. What if Lissa was in danger with Stitch? A further thought hit. She hadn’t pressed the panic button, but what if he’d caught her and stopped her?