Page 23 of Coming In Hot
Joey:
I’m pulling some more details… Hold on. This is the kind of shit you don’t want to mess with, Jax. These people are playing a whole different game. You sure you want to go down this rabbit hole?
I take a deep breath, my grip tightening on the edge of my desk. I know where this path leads, and I know the cost. But I can’t stop now. What if Pharo’s in over his head? The fuck has he gotten himself into?
I don’t have a choice. Keep going.
Joey:
Alright, here we go… I’ve got names. Operations. High-value targets. Blacklisted missions. This isn’t just another corporate scam, Jax. This is heavy. Real heavy.
Fuck. I can feel the walls closing in. The deeper I go, the harder it will be to get out.
I take a deep breath and sit back, letting the information settle. I’ve crossed a line now. There’s no going back. Not after this.
Send it all to me. And get out of there. Now.
I don’t wait for his reply. The screen blinks for a second before the files start downloading, every second feeling like a countdown to something I can’t control anymore.
I’m in too deep.
Pharo’s in too deep.
Joey:
I was never here. Peace out.
Joey who?
Joey:
If the feds come knocking, be a good friend and hack a bank for my bail money.
If the feds come knocking, there won’t be any bail, my friend. Peace out.
It takes two days to go through all the info. My eyes are bleary from staring at the screen for hours on end, the data swirling in my head like a storm I can’t control. Still no word from Pharo. I’ve been checking my phone obsessively, but there’s nothing. No response to my message, no sign that he even saw it.
I finally drag myself away from the desk, my muscles stiff from sitting too long. I stumble into the bathroom, wincing at the sharp ache in my lower back. The fluorescent lights hum above, casting an unforgiving glow on my reflection in the mirror. I stop short, frozen by the sight.
Hollow eyes. Dark circles beneath them that only seem to deepen by the second. My hair, normally under control, stands on end like I’ve been electrocuted, and the unkempt mess of it makes me look like I’ve been living out of a bag for weeks. My lips are cracked, dry, and peeling, and my complexion has taken on that sickly pale tint, like I haven’t seen daylight in a month.
I look like a tweaker coming off a three-day bender.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips, though it’s more out of frustration than amusement. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I operate. But I can’t shake the gnawing feeling in my gut—the questions that still hang unanswered. Greystone, Pharo, what’s really going on with him, and why the hell hasn’t he checked in?
I reach for the sink, splashing cold water on my face to clear the fog, but it doesn’t help. My mind is still racing, chasing after threads of information that don’t connect. I scrub at my face and glance back at the mirror, voicing the question nagging at me hardest.
What if Pharo’s not okay?
CHAPTER9
JAX
“When you saidwe needed to talk, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Pharo complains, shifting his weight to try and squeeze in beside me on the small leather couch. Brewer’s sofa was intended to seat one person comfortably, possibly two, if needed. But not two the size of us. Pharo is the size of a full-grown gorilla, and I’m not exactly small myself.
His broad shoulders press into mine, and I can feel the tension radiating off him. The air between us crackles with things unspoken, like we're both bracing for impact. He tries to adjust, but the couch squeaks in protest, giving up any pretense of comfort.
“I told you it was a bad idea,” I mutter, shifting slightly so I’m not completely squashed against the armrest.
