Chapter Eleven
Never again. Never ever again. I got back to the clubhouse compound that afternoon, and went straight to Micro’s office, throwing the door open, and scaring the crap out of him and Harley.
“The fuck!?”
I kicked the door closed and kicked it again for good measure.
“Stag, you wanna ease up on my fucking door? You’re lucky you didn’t crash in on me and Soph and wake the baby!”
“You have any idea what I’ve been doing all fucking day? DO YOU?”
Their eyes darted toward each other, and Micro pointed at the coffee pot.
“Of course I want a fucking coffee. I’m never sleeping again, no fucking way.”
I dropped heavily onto the chair and groaned. I ached all over, because that’s what happens when you’ve had to beat a guy to death, carve up his body, and then bury it in a fucking pit that gets covered with that shit that melts the parts. Ugh. I could still fucking smell it.
I gagged at the images that filled my mind, coupled with that smell, and not for the first time, I knew I was gonna chuck. My stomach roiled angrily, and I just made it to the small bin in the corner, expelling nothing but coffee and bile, because no way I was ever eating again either.
“Jesus, Stag.”
I opened the door and threw the bin outside. Fuck the mess. I’m not a prospect. I slammed it again and sagged against the cool surface.
“Sit.”
I did, because my legs were done holding me up. Micro pressed a coffee into my hand, and Harley rested a hand on my shoulder.
“Talk to us, brother. You look like you’ve been through hell. Or seen a ghost, I dunno.”
I sighed, staring at the murky liquid in the paper cup.
“I mean, technically I created a ghost.”
Micro crouched in front of me.
“Brother, look at me. They made you kill for them?”
I nodded, and watched the outrage on his face, mirrored I’m sure on Harley’s too. What did they expect though? The guys were mobsters, right?
“Tell me, brother. I’m so sorry that happened, but that’s it. Done. You’re not going back there.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Talk.”
I did. I explained it all, every fucking detail, and watched as Micro paled in front of me.
“They made you do what?! The sick fuckers.”
“They don’t keep evidence of their crimes. I mean, that part’s logical, or so they assured me.”
Harley leaned past me to talk to Micro, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t hear him.
“This is a fucking disgrace, look at him. He’s traumatised. We need to cut ties with those bastards once and for all.”
Micro sighed. “Which is exactly what we’ve been trying to do since they fucking discovered us. Anything you can tell us that’ll help with that, brother?”
“Aside from knowing where they kill people… Jesus… where I killed someone…”
I swallowed a large gulp of coffee, my stomach roiling angrily as I gulped the rest. It was probably a mistake, but I was thirsty, because when you lose everything you had in your stomach, that includes fluids. I groaned and sat back, and the next thing pressed into my hand was a bottle of water.
“Drink up, brother. He needs a shower, he’s got blood behind his ears and all sorts.”
Thank fuck we had a ‘shower’ block of sorts. It was over by the portable toilets, and I really didn’t want to know how the two collaborated, because I needed to be clean.
“Not gonna sleep ever again. I’m gonna see… that… in my fucking nightmares.”
“I’m so sorry, brother. This isn’t what I thought would happen. I thought you’d punch a few guys, maybe just be an extra body while others did that shit. This is like they’re punishing us through you.”
Yeah. Lucky me, right?
“I need to uh…” I lurched up from the seat and knocked it back against the wall.
The room was suddenly too small. No that’s not true.
It was always too small. It’s a fucking hut with three guys in it, a few chairs, a desk, a filing cabinet and it’s all too much.
The room is so fucking tiny and I can’t breathe.
I can’t. There’s no air in here. I can’t fucking breathe! It’s like a damn coffin.
“Brother, just calm down.” They both approached me, and that was doing exactly fuck all to help with the ‘feeling trapped’ sensation that was chilling my body from my head all the way down to my feet, like I could literally feel all my blood pooling down there.
Jesus. I swayed, and they shoved me back into the chair, one of them tipping my head forward and holding me like that.
Ugh. Bile rose in my throat again, which wasn’t helping with the lack of air situation, but slowly, slowly, my body started to warm again, the numbing tingling starting to recede, which had been just another symptom of me losing my shit like a fucking kid.
“That’s it, brother. Deep breaths. It’s going to be okay.”
Okay. Yeah, sure. If that was the first fucking job for those assholes, what was next?
I’d been so full of hope this morning, and now, I was wondering why the hell I didn’t just run and keep running.
Those fuckers were making moves into our territory, and that’s why they wanted me on board, but to do shit like this?
“That’s it, brother, keep breathing. Harley, we can’t let this happen again. Get Reacher on the phone, I’m cutting things off with the Bennetts, and I don’t care what the fucking cost is.”
“No!” I shoved up against the hand on my back and they let me move. I swayed a little in my seat as my balance shifted again, and then I felt the next breath steady me.
“No?”
I shook my head, and groaned as things tilted again.
“It won’t be that easy. They’re moving into this area and expanding. If we go pissing them off, we’ll have a pretty fucking nasty enemy moving in next door.”
“Fuck. This is why they dragged you into their shit. This means they’re going to be an ongoing problem going forward.”
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to wake up my brain and start making good decisions.
At least I’d stopped at a garage on the way back and had washed my face in their bathroom, ridding myself of the last of that damn eyeliner and shit.
That meant I didn’t look like a fucking grunge throwback right now.
I was still kicking myself for not washing that shit off before I went to the Bennetts. Jesus.
“I hate to say this, but I think we want them on side. We want them as allies, because the alternative is going to be a fucking shitstorm.”
Micro groaned and rested his ass against his desk, his hands bracing him at his sides.
“This is a fucking nightmare. I mean, we’re bigger than them, right? We have more numbers. We could probably just fucking wipe them out… but what if there’s stuff we don’t know? Other players. Other connections. They could have more reach than we could ever know.”
“I’d rather not start a war without knowing that shit,” Harley said, tapping a finger on the desk as he thought, “maybe it’s time to get Reacher and Don Rossi in a room, and puzzle this shit out. Surely with us, the other chapter, the mercs, and the fucking mafia, we can find a solution.”
And on that note, I’m in way over my head. I want a shower, to vomit some more, and to find somewhere quiet to message a lovely lady who just might make me want to keep living, while right now everything feels like it’s conspiring to cause the opposite.
“Go rest, brother. Please try and eat, I’ll send the prospects with something. Don’t take any calls from them, or answer any messages until you speak to us. We’re not using you as a fucking pawn.”
I only wished they’d made that declaration even a day ago. I struggled out of there on ragged legs, made it as far as my bed, and practically passed out from nervous exhaustion, while the last thing I wanted to do was free my mind from the restraints I’d been trying to hold on it.
Claudia
He barely messaged the next day, and for some reason that left me feeling almost bereft.
For a brief time, he’d been a source of light in my days, something that Marissa had no access to.
Something that was all mine. Someone who listened and cared.
Someone who maybe saw me as a woman he could be interested in, rather than some disabled, less capable, liability – you know, the way my sister saw me.
Was it weird to compare a potential lover to my own sibling?
Not when you considered that she acted almost like a possessive partner, rather than my own sister.
I hated that I was starting to fear her, that there was a chill down my spine when I saw her enter a room, or bring me a drink, or something.
Was I actually starting to worry about what she was putting in the drinks?
Was I assessing myself after, to see if she was doping me up with something?
This wasn’t how I wanted our relationship to be.
I wanted the fun version of her back, the one who didn’t see me as someone to control and defend.
I found myself checking my phone constantly during the day, which was risky, because we were both working from home, side by side at our dining table.
As an editor for businesses, I was always reading dull-as-dishwater documents, including legal documents, and the phone was distracting me, or rather the lack of contact from him was.
Marissa worked for a marketing company, and was working on designing a campaign for a new children’s toy for the company she was working for.
She didn’t seem focused on that though, since she kept glancing at me every time I checked my phone.
She nudged me with her shoulder, offering a friendly smile that I still couldn’t help doubting.
*Waiting for something?*
I shrugged. *Just distracted because the document is so boring.*
She didn’t look convinced, even reaching out with her hand.
“I could remove the distraction for you?”
What was her point? That she’s now the boss of me, the teacher, and I’m the student? That I need her to direct my attention to the right fucking place?
“No,” I said firmly, sliding the phone into my pocket, so she couldn’t get her hands on it. She smashed the last one, and I wasn’t about to let this one become the next casualty in her war against my freedom.
I tried to put my focus on the document in front of me, my mind still half on the man who’d stopped messaging, and the other on my sister, who was fiddling with her own phone, while I was getting judged for using mine.
When mine buzzed in my pocket, the firm vibration against my side making me jump, I figured why the hell shouldn’t I check it? If it was him, I wanted to know what the message was.
Marissa: I wasn’t trying to control you. I just worry.
I lifted my eyes at glare at her, typing without looking, because as my main method of communication with ninety percent of the few people I knew, I was damn good at it.
Me: That’s all you do. Who I message with is none of your business.
Her eyes widened as she read it, and her thumbs went to work replying.
Marissa: If it’s that biker guy, he’s only after one thing. He’ll ditch you after, and I’ll have to pick up the pieces.
How dare she?! I glared at her, then decided that wasn’t enough, so I replied with an entire string of middle finger emojis. Instead of giggling, like she would have done even a year ago, she narrowed her eyes at me, and her cheeks flushed red.
Marissa: He’s a bad influence on you. Look how you’re treating me. All I want to do is keep you safe. You’re my sister, the other half of my soul. I just want you to be safe. I love you.
A twinge of guilt flushed through me, and I sighed, lowering the phone. I was being unreasonable, wasn’t I?
“I know, but you have to let me live my life my way. I’ll make mistakes, and that’s life, right? I should get to make them for myself. I don’t expect you to be my saviour. You have your life too.”
She slammed the phone down, and closed her laptop just as violently, waiting until she was standing, with her devices in her hands.
“DO I?”
She stormed out of the room, and I remained frozen in place, because her words, which I didn’t hear, but felt like I’d been hit in the face by, stunned me.
Horrified me. Did she really believe she had no life because of me?
Did she really believe that I was holding her back?
That’s what those two words meant. She had no life because I was her burden.
I was the threat to her living her life.
I could fix that though, couldn’t I?
Me: I need to get out of here, any chance you’re free to hang out somewhere?