Page 27 of Stag

“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.