Chapter Thirty-One
Rocket was a major prick when he got back from his little overnight stay in lockup, overnight because he punched a fucking officer in the end.
The first thing he did when he got back was find me, and tell my ‘little police officer pussy’ was a complete bitch, and after I decked him, he tried to fight me.
“Rocket, get the fuck to my office,” Micro yelled, shoving him away from me, but he wasn’t going easily.
“Can you just go fuck her, so she’ll be in a better mood, or did you already fuck her so badly that she’s permanently like this? You couldn’t just do her right?”
I went for him again, and this time I was the one getting shoved back.
“Can we try to remember that we’re fucking brothers here?”
“He’s not my fucking brother,” Rocket hissed at him, and I could see him getting ready to out me, and fuck this all up, so I went for him again, and all three of us hit the ground, scuffling with each other, until several of our brothers pulled us apart.
“Rocket, my fucking office NOW! Grease, get back to your tech area, and start packing up to move into your office. I need this shit to stop. This isn’t how we roll, for fuck’s sake!”
“Yeah, of course he gets to walk away because he’s so fucking untouchable,” Rocket grumbled, flipping me off with both hands as he backed away.
“Asshole.”
“This isn’t over, Grease. You’ll be wearing my fucking fist-print as a medal soon enough.”
Micro watched him leave, then turned to me, and lowered his voice.
“He’s getting out of control. After I speak to him, I’ll check in with Reacher. This may not be the right place for him right now.”
“I can make him disappear for ya, Pres,” I offered, and grinned as Micro rolled his eyes and walked away from me.
“What’s the beef there, man?” Stag asked me, trying to follow me back to my temporary tech hole.
“None of your business, dickhead. Can you fuck off and let me get this done, like the Pres demanded?”
“You don’t think others are gonna wonder why he’s saying you’re not his brother? You think they’re all too dumb to tell you’re a mafia guy?”
“There’s a reason it’s called undercover, fuckface. You wanna take this up with the Pres, you go right ahead, but you out me to the others, and I’ll bury you so fucking deep, nobody will ever even smell ya.”
If I was found out, that’d be the fastest ticket back to the Don’s compound, and I was doing everything I could to stay out of there. Always fight the inevitable, that’s my motto.
I tried sending PC Pain a message, just to make sure she was okay after Rocket’s arrest, because if she was the cop he’d punched, I’d fucking kill him. I’d rip him to shreds while he was still breathing, just so I could hear his fucking screams.
The message was returned ‘unsent’, meaning she had me blocked, and that pissed me off, so I opened up a text messaging app on my tablet, and typed in her number.
Me: I know you blocked me, but I heard about Rocket’s arrest. Did he hurt you?
I knew it was a huge fucking risk for me to check in on her, but the idea of her wearing bruises caused by him, or any other fucker, was eating at me. I had to know she was okay, and I was starting to realise that if she ignored me now, I’d turn up on her fucking doorstep until she spoke to me.
Unknown: I’m uninjured. Thanks for checking. You shouldn’t be messaging me though.
Fuck that. This tiny fucking connection to her had my heart racing in my chest, and my blood pumping all the way down to you know where. I wanted to be inside her right this fucking second, and knowing I couldn’t was torture.
Me: This is untraceable. I just needed to know you were okay, little pain. I’ll stay away like you asked.
Fuck me, even saying that felt like jabbing knives into my chest. When the hell did she become so important to me? When exactly did she burrow so deep into my fucking soul, that being without her was like being carved up from the inside. Fuck it. I had to see her.
Me: I’m booking a hotel under a fake ID. Meet me there in an hour. Tell no-one. I need to see you.
I was already finding the nearest hotel when she replied.
Unknown: That’s a bad idea.
Me: I need to fucking see you. NOW.
Unknown: Because you’re horny? That’s not my problem.
Me: Because I need to fucking see you with my own eyes. To see that you’re fucking okay. We don’t need to do anything but talk. I’ll text you the address and room number. Please.
She made me wait so long that I’d had a booking confirmation emailed through while I was still waiting to hear. It was pretty much going to waste if she refused, but I was willing to take the chance.
Unknown: Okay.
Well hell, I deserved that. Right?
Jamie
It surprised me to hear from Grease, especially since I had his number blocked, and with me not being on social media with a name you’d recognise.
Perks of being a police officer. Don’t invite strangers into your life, digitally or otherwise, because it’s not safe.
Still, somehow Grease got around that, well, I guess having a spare phone covers that issue just fine.
I figured I’d just block this new number after he ‘sees me with his own eyes’.
What the hell did that even mean, anyway?
I told him I was fine. Why did he need to see me to know that for sure?
Just how bad a guy was this Rocket asshole?
Maybe he was literally some kind of psycho or something. I figured he was just a prick.
Why did I shower and dress like I was going out on a date? I had no idea, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. We weren’t going to have sex. He’d said that, and I was going to cling firmly to that fact. Sex would only complicate things further.
I checked the message on my phone, and headed into the hotel, eyeing the reception desk and wondering if I was supposed to check in there, or just go up.
What if they thought I was a prostitute if I just went up there?
Was this the kind of hotel where that happened?
It was the nicer one of the two in town, but I’d never been here.
“Can I help you, miss?” I turned to see a hotel employee standing behind me, with a kind smile on her face.
“Oh. Sorry. I was just wondering if I should take the lift or the stairs. My b… boyfriend booked us into room 202.”
Why did I stutter like that? It sounded like a lie now, but wasn’t it exactly that? He wasn’t my boyfriend. We weren’t together. Ugh. It was such a mess.
The hotel lady nodded, and pointed at the lifts. “It’s just up on floor two, and to the left of the lifts.”
Duh, like I couldn’t figure out that a room starting with a two would be on floor two. No, the real problem was the way she looked at me, like she thought I was some kind of hooker.
“I’m not a whore!” I snapped before I could stop myself. Wow, way to attract unwanted attention to yourself!
The lift opened, and I saw a welcome sight, or maybe an unwelcome one. I don’t know.
“Are you coming, little pain? I ordered dinner for us.”
I darted into the lift, and covered my face with both hands as the doors slid closed. I was mortified beyond belief, and was now worried the entire hotel thought I was the whore I’d so vehemently denied being.
“Jamie, look at me.” He caught me by surprise, using my actual name like that, so I ended up lowering my hands to look at him. He caught my face in both hands, and angled it gently to one side then the other.
“He didn’t hit you, right?”
I blinked slowly, staring up into his worried face, his dark eyes intent on mine, and his lips looking so kissable. I felt like a sex starved… oh god!
“They thought I was a hooker,” I said miserably, closing my eyes tightly so I wouldn’t see his amusement at my expense.
“Who did? Oh… the staff downstairs?” He wasn’t laughing, and I really thought he’d find that hilarious. I mean, it’s Grease, right?
I nodded, but I was looking at the serious face I’d only seen on him the night I was attacked. Was he pissed off on my behalf?
“Want me to go set them straight?”
Oh wow. He cared about my reputation, and dear god, I wasn’t here to get attached to him again!
“It’s fine. It’s uh… you’ve seen me now, should I just leave?”
“Oh come on, they’ll think I’m a one minute man, little pain.”
It took me a moment to catch up to his meaning, but that little smirk was back, so I slapped his chest, reminding myself how firm and muscular it was. Stop finding him hot!
“I ordered dinner, remember?” He led me out of the lift and to the door marked 202.
“You don’t know what I like,” I said pointedly, because that was kinda dickish of him to just assume what I’d want to eat.
“That’s why I ordered a few different things. I figured I’d have you covered, and I’ll eat what you don’t want.”