Page 44 of Reacher
I turned my phone off after the message was sent, because as much as I wished Reacher would contact me, I couldn’t handle leaving the phone on for him not to. At least with the phone off, I could pretend that maybe he was trying, and just not able to get through.
I spent the rest of the night sitting against that wall, wondering where the hell to go next.
Reacher
Itwaswellaftermidnight by the time Stitch felt that I was sober enough to deal with the bastard in the basement, and quite honestly, I was itching to pound the face of some asshole, so I might have pretended to be a little more with it than I probably was.
We went down to the basement, joined by Torch and Micro, and stood in front of the man in the chair. He was tied firmly, arms to wrist rests, legs to chair legs, and an additional rope around his throat, a nice touch, probably added by Torch, the sadistic bastard.
He was conscious, but looked like he’d taken a few blows to the face already, probably when he was knocked out by one of them. I glanced at Stitch.
“Your handiwork?”
He shrugged. “Bastard was stubborn. Took a few hits to take him down.”
“You’re slipping, brother.”
He offered me a glare as he pointed at the guy.
“Bite me. He had a syringe in his pocket, with nothing but air in it. The bastard was going to stick Ice with it.” I turned to the guy in the chair, whose expiration date would be today.
“You wanna just talk now, so we don’t have to waste time beating the shit out of you? You’d prefer it to me setting Torch loose on you,trust me.”
The man smirked. “I’m not afraid of you losers. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.” He didn’t sound local, but the accent was definitely from around London way. I had no idea who he was, or who he thought he was, but it didn’t matter.
“Okay… well, you should be afraid of him. Everyone is, but since you seem to think you’re the big shit, why don’t you tell me who you are?”
“Go fuck yourself, old man.” The words old man should have pissed me off, but instead they made me think of Alicia. My Ally. Jesus. NotmyAlly. Fucking hell. The rage came back, and I introduced the prick’s face to my elbow.
He laughed, spitting blood onto the concrete at my feet.
“This is gonna take ages if you’re just gonna tickle me like that. You wanna get one of the younger guys on this?”
Asshole. I grabbed his throat in both hands, choking him, and trying to wipe that smug grin off his face. He stopped smirking around the time his face started to darken, and his chest frantically flexed as he struggled against my grip.
I felt arms pulling at me, but I ignored them. Just a few seconds longer, just to shut the fucker up, and then maybe he’d talk. Maybe he’d realise that we’re not a joke. I’m not a fucking joke!
Someone punched me, and it distracted me enough that I fell back from the bastard, releasing his throat. I could hear gasping, and choking, but all I could see was Stitch. Stitch, who was right the hell in my face, and he was furious.
“This is exactly what I mean, Reacher. You’re not up to this. Leave it to me, please.”
I could hear mumbling behind him, with Torch and Micro both tending to, or heckling, our hostage.
“I can do this.”
“You’re out of control. This isn’t how we do things. That’s because you brought in strict rules, about everything we do, and you’re shitting on them right now.”
“Is the old man losing his marbles? That happens with advanced age,” the man croaked, before he yelled out in pain, either at the hands of Torch or Micro.
“Let me finish this. He either tells us, or I’m going to end him, right there in that fucking chair.”
Stitch looked behind him, then back at me.
“Reacher, this is about Alicia, okay? You’re messed up because of her. You need to step away from this, and focus on her.”
“Alicia? Ohhh… so the little whore wormed her way in with the Club President, huh? No wonder she thought she was safe.”
We all turned to glare at the tethered man, who, surprisingly, was still smirking.
