Page 42 of Reacher
Shit. I ended the call, and rang Torch, my go to for shit like this.
“Yeah, Pres?”
“Got a job for you, brother. Some bastard just tried to attack Ice at the hospital.”
“Fucker! You want me to uh… show him the error of his ways?” Jesus. Even I shuddered when he talked like that. I knew what he was capable of, but he was also the deadliest guy on my crew, which meant he was less likely to get overpowered by some dickhead.
“Not quite. Take two other brothers with you, leave one guy to relieve Stitch, and the three of you bring this guy back, and put him downstairs.” He knew exactly where I meant.
“He that dangerous?”
“I’m not taking any chances. He overpowered Ice and nearly killed him, or at least that’s the assumption I’m making until I know more.”
Once the call was over, I knew I had a short time to try and sober up, before I tried to handle an interrogation. It was monumentally shit timing for this to happen, but at least we might finally have some answers about Ice.
I downed three strong coffees while I waited for their return, a fist banging on my door being my hint that I’d run out of sobering up time.
Stitch let himself in, took one sniff of the air, and cursed.
“Are you wasted?”
I shook my head. “Do I look it?”
He stared at me, running a hand through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated.
“Yeah, kinda. How much have you had?”
I nodded at the almost empty bottle.
“Fucking hell, Reacher. Uh… where’s Alicia?”
It hurt, it was a physical pain that shot through me, at the mention of her name. I cleared my throat, determined not to sound like I felt.
“Gone.”
He crossed the room, joining me by the kitchen counter.
“Jesus. You want anyone out looking for her?”
I shook my head. “I told her to leave.”
“Fucking hell, Reacher. What’s going on?”
I downed a fourth coffee, wincing as I burned my tongue and throat. It didn’t matter, when the pain in my chest was fucking agony right now.
“She’s a fucking liar, is what’s going on. Is the bastard downstairs?”
Stitch nodded. “Look, he’s not going anywhere, brother. We can hit this in the morning when you’ve rested.” Aka sobered up, right?
“You mean because you’re worried that I’m too fucked out of my face to hold a damn interrogation, brother.”
“Am I wrong?”
Suddenly I felt like punching his smug face, rather than being my usual barely contained self.
“Fuck you.”
Stitch glanced around him again.
