Page 101 of Reacher
He set the mug back down with a grimace.
“I actually am. I hate tea. I love coffee. Why the fuck can’t I just have coffee? At least one. Maybe even a weak coffee. Even… ugh… decaf…”
I raised my eyebrows at him, and he groaned, pressing at those studs in his eyebrow.
“It’s Stitch. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but he’s got some problem, on top of everything going on, and it’s weighing on him.”
“And he won’t talk about it?”
He ran a hand through his hair, and then smoothed his beard, all things I’d come to realise were stress reactions.
“Reacher, talk to him. Let him know you’re there for him.” He rolled his eyes at me.
“We’re not all touchy feely, woman. We’re fucking bikers. We drink and we talk shit, and when someone has a problem we fix it, usually with our fists. We don’t sit and talk like girls.”
I fixed him with a glare.
“Well, you’re not getting laid either, so what does that make you?”
“Jesus, woman. We were getting down to it, and now you want me to go and make nice with Stitch instead? That’s like a punishment.”
I giggled, but I knew he needed to be there right now and so did he.
“I don’t want you away from me, and you know that, but Stitch is your brother. You told me before that he’s the most important person to you. So you know you have to help him with whatever it is.”
He was reluctant, but he went, very grudgingly, and left to my own devices for a while, I finally went for a shower, because I just felt like I needed to relax and, even though I had a waterproof bandage on, I knew I’d have to be quick. Quick was something his discussion with Stitch was unlikely to be, and I hoped that there was nothing seriously wrong. Neither of them needed more pressure on them right now.
I towelled myself off, and realised my mistake. I didn’t take any clothes into the bathroom, and I really didn’t want to put my dirty ones back on, but… it was the strangest thing. Even though I knew that I was safe in Reacher’s room, I couldn’t bring myself to step outside the door when he was away from the room, notwith just a towel to protect me. I tried. I tried several times to reach for the door, and my hand shook so much, I pulled it back.
What could possibly be on the other side of the door that could hurt me? I was in Reacher’s room in his fucking clubhouse. Nobody who wasn’t a biker could even get in. There were heavy gates, manned by prospects, but… but what if someone wasn’t really who they claimed to be? What if one of them was working for the cartel? What if one of them had turned on his brothers? They were out there, and they knew exactly where I was, where we all were.
That nervous energy grew, and ballooned into full-blown terror. Into a certainty that just on the other side of the door was danger.Evil. The death I’d barely avoided last time they had me.
I ended up sitting against the wall, with my knees pulled up to my chest, as my body trembled, and any tiny sound that reached my ears made me gasp with panic.
When I heard something move outside the door, that panic grew again, when it hadn’t seemed possible. I couldn’t breathe, because I knew that they’d found me again. That they would kill me this time. I’d never see Reacher again, never get to hold him again or be held by him. Never feel that sense of complete safety that I desperately needed, especially now.
The door handle turned, and that’s when I realised that I hadn’t even turned the small lock on the door, the simple lock that could be kicked through easily enough, because I’d felt safe. At the start I’d felt safe.
“The fuck…” The mumbled voice on the outside of the room was unfamiliar, and I screamed, slamming my body against the door, fighting to keep whoever it was on the outside, away from me, separated from me by the pathetic wooden door. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“The hell is going on, woman?”
The words permeated, but the voice didn’t, and I fought with the door some more, before it stopped moving.
“Ally? Ally, it’s ME. It’s Reacher. Let me in, woman.”
I backed up a few steps, my breaths burning my chest on the way out.
“R… Reacher?”
“Yes, woman, of course it’s me, for fuck’s sake.”
He didn’t sound angry. He just sounded confused, and so was I now. Now that the fear was dissipating, it was starting to feel unreal, distant. What had me so panicked that I freaked out like that? He turned the handle again, and the door eased slowly open.
“I’m coming in. Don’t hit me or some shit, yeah?”
I fought my breathing, which continued to come in raspy gusts, like I’d literally forgotten how to breathe normally.
