Don't... (42 page)

“Jack?”

I knew I was sitting somewhere, a floor from how cold my ass was, and I hit Sam’s hands away from my face, feeling sickness churn my stomach.

“Jack. Jack, I need you to focus.”

I opened my eyes wide realising who I heard. “Steve? How?” Fuck, I let my head fall back and found it connected with cold tile.

“Jack,” hands touched my face again, and I focused a little better on Steve’s face. “C’mon. What’s going on, bud?”

I moved his hands again and managed to glance around. The bathroom was in bits, the panelling to the bath kicked in, shower curtain wrapped around my legs, shower dripping water from a broken pipe. I was sat between toilet and sink, and—I frowned. People kept morphing into places they shouldn’t be and... Steve. What the hell was he doing here and... it—I groaned. Something was messing with the time around me. “How, Sam? Why?”

“What happened, Jack?” said Steve.

I looked around and finally found the toothpaste in the shadow of the sink. “Lid,” I mumbled. “I couldn’t put it on the fucking toothpaste, wouldn’t go casual.”

“Sam.” That was just a whisper. “Go pull Jack’s Merc around the front. Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah,” whispered Sam.

“Good. We’ll take him back to mine.”

“What’s up with him?” Another whisper. They needed to stop whispering now.

“Nothing, kid. It’s fine, just—just tell the night staff I need to speak to the manager, okay?”

I swallowed and winced, tasting blood.

“You caught your lip on something, is all, Jack. It’s just a scratch. We need to get back to mine okay?”

“Steve?”

“Hmmm.”

“I kissed Sam.”

Quiet. “He’s not a kid, Jack. He’d have let you know if he didn’t want it.”

I nodded. “Steve.”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to sleep with him.”

“Yeah, I know.” A hand on my arm pulled me up. “Makes you feel any better, I’ll smack you one in the morning for it.”

I kicked the curtain from off my feet, then made my way for the bed. My head was still stuck in a fog bank somewhere, only things were starting to clear, and I didn’t like catching glimpses of the train wreck it had hidden.

“You want me to call your old man?” said Steve, crouching by me, and I groaned out loud. I shook my head and hated Steve’s understanding smile as he helped me with my shoes. I shook him off, then regretted the startle in his eyes before he relaxed. “You’ve not had it this bad for years, Jack. What’s wrong?”

Noise back by the door made me look up, and Steve was suddenly up and moving seeing Sam come in with a grey-haired woman. They disappeared into the bathroom, raised voices filtered through, then everything settled in mumbled voices and whispers pretty quickly. I hated mumbled voices, but the whispers. I dropped my head into my hand and rubbed at my forehead. Hard. Digging fingertips deep to keep the world in focus.

Feeling the cold, I glanced around and saw my shirt just by me on the bed. Slipping it on, I tried to ignore the shaking going on with my hands, shoulders, insides. People sauntered out of the bathroom, but I barely looked back, more driven by the need to get my clothes and get the fuck out of here. Sam came over and started pulling things out of drawers, Steve a few seconds later, the manager now bought off and leaving us to it.

“Do you know how much money my old man dished out for this shit when I was a kid?” I said as things were pulled together.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Jack,” said Steve.

I slammed the wardrobe door shut. “Fucking fifty grand. That’s not even touching court costs.”

“Yeah,” said Steve, and he came over and tugged me toward the door, grabbing my phone off the bedside unit. “Tell me in the morning when your head’s clear enough to talk to me. Maybe then you can explain why you disappeared and took the float with you. For now, you let Sam drive, I’ll follow behind, and you get your head down and sleep.”

I woke and stretched into the warmth of thick and heavy duvet covers. They had that just washed smell, Almond and Lotus blossom, or someone had been eating almonds. Either way, it smelled damn good. Things were a little cloudy, my head pounding and making it an effort to open my eyes. When I did, I made a mental note to get my head checked out, because like hell did I know when I’d put Action Man curtains up in my room.

“How you doin’, kid?”

Stiffening for a minute, I eventually eased onto my elbows. The late sun stung my eyes a little, and although it was harsh enough to silhouette the man over by the windows and blind me to any physical attributes, I still recognised my old man.

“Steve, huh?” I said, and he smiled at me and gave that “uh-huh” reply. Yeah. Steve. “Then I take it these,” I indicated to the Action Man covers, “are his kid’s?” I could remember some details about last night, but the journey home was pretty much a blank.

“Yeah, it’s Steve’s youngest.”

“Thank fuck for that,” I sighed, resting back down heavily and sinking into pillows. “I didn’t know where the hell the curtains and cover had come from.”

There was a chuckle, then a pat at my leg for me to shift it so my old man could sit down. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

I didn’t look at him, not for a long time; then I eased back and leaned against the headboard, making sure I took what I could of the duvet with me. Fuck knows where my shirt was; I just hope to god it hadn’t ended in me trying it on with—“Oh, bollocks.” I groaned, wiping hands over my face. “Where’s Steve?” I refused to groan again. “Sam?”

“Considering it’s getting on for four in the afternoon, I’d have thought they were keeping your business ticking over.”

I grabbed my old man’s hand and pushed up his coat to look at the watch. “Shit.” Then with a quick glance at my old man, and an apology, I pushed the covers back and got out of bed. Thank Christ I still had my trousers on. “Hmmm.” The dizziness had to stop first; even my old man seemed to give me a second as the world turned upside down for a few minutes.

“You don’t usually drink, son. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, okay,” I said, now hunting around for my shirt and finding it over the back of an Action Man chair. I couldn’t believe I’d hijacked a kid’s fucking bedroom.

“Gray?”

I stopped pulling on my shirt for a minute, then seeing Steve’s wife come in holding a coffee, I quickly dressed again. “I’m fine, Dad, just—just stressed over the Strachan deal.” I couldn’t tell him about Cutter and put him through all that shit again.

Nothing came from my old man, and I went over to Steve’s missus seeing her hold out a coffee for me.

“I’d made this for your dad, Jack, but now you’re awake.”

“I’m so sorry for dropping this on you, Carole.” I took the coffee and took a sip more just to be polite. Carole smiled and waved it off. “Don’t worry, Jack.” She looked at my old man. “I’ve enjoyed talking to Gregory.”

I took another sip, then glanced at my old man. “Dad, it’s good to see you, and I’m damn glad you dropped everything to be here,” I wasn’t lying with that, and I think he knew it because the lines on his face softened, “but... but I need to get to work.”

“Steve’s fine about this, Jack,” said my old man. I nodded.

“I’m not, though.” I leaned over the bed and handed him the coffee. “The longer I leave it, the worse it will be.”

He took the coffee. “Okay, you go. I have some calls to make anyway.”

“Oh, you can use the phone downstairs, if you want,” said Carole, pointing behind her, but my old man took his mobile out of his pocket and held it up.

“I’m in debt enough with the care you’ve shown my son, Carole, I can’t ask anymore.”

She gave a smile and left us to it.

“Give me a call later,” my old man said, and I promised I would before heading downstairs and hunting around for my car keys.

The drive to the garage was only ten minutes from Steve’s, and I pulled up behind his Fiat, noticing for the first time that maybe he did need a new car. It seemed small for a family man, a little rusty too, which only added to my guilt realising he was spending so much time looking after the business and my sad ass, he didn’t have the time to take care of a few basic needs for himself.

Steve saw me before I walked through the main doors and met me off to the side, away from the busy mechs.

“Jack.” There was a lot of concern there in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to come in. Get back off. I’ll—”

“Steve, you’ve done enough. Last night—”

“Forget it,” said Steve, and I got a pat to my arm. “Yeah, you’re my boss, but we’ve been friends longer.” His smile was wistful.

“Always seem to throw the shit your way, though,” I said quietly. “If we were married, you’d have divorced me by now.”

“I’d have done time for murder,” said Steve, then winked. “But neither of us are angels, we all carry our own screw-ups from back then.”

Sometimes I forgot I wasn’t the only young man Cutter had screwed up. Steve wasn’t gay, so it had been a lot harder on him, more confusing too. And like hell was I going to tell him the bastard might be back.

“You need a coffee?” said Steve.

I nodded, then said as he headed off, “Sam here?”

Steve thumbed back over his shoulder, and I caught Sam with his head stuck in the bonnet of a Nissan. “Can you tell him I need a word upstairs?”

“The guys will think no one else exists bar Sam in this place,” said Steve, grinning, but he said he would.

I made it upstairs and just managed to down two headache pills raw before the door knocked. “Come in, Sam.”

Sam pushed on through, and I asked Steve to come in knowing full well he’d listen at the door anyway.

“You okay?” said Sam as I leaned against the edge of the desk.

“So long as you are,” I said, noticing he’d folded his arms in pretty much the same defensive way that I did now.

“So long as I’m not going to get the sack, or anything.”

I was a little gutted hearing that. “Why would I sack you, Sam? It was my screw-up, not yours.”

“Yeah, but,” He shifted uncomfortably. “I should have backed off, not...”

“Sam,” said Steve quietly, “trust me, Jack’s been in worse. He had the sense to back off; you had the sense to call someone. That’s all that matters.”

“And stopped him going all Scott on someone’s ass,” said Sam, sounding a little cheerier, and Steve gave me a curious brow.

I rubbed my head. “Don’t ask, Steve, just don’t.” I sighed and looked up at Sam. “So long as we’re okay?” I was really rubbish with this kind of thing.

Sam nodded, and I physically sighed seeing him unfold his arms.

“It mean I’m off probation, though? Call beyond duty, and all that.”

Steve groaned. “Sam...”

“Well,” he shrugged, “gotta try, huh?”

“Yeah, try and you. They go together so well,” said Steve. “How about I see how well you can keep private issues private, and I’ll think about assigning you to the new Strachan deal.”

“You mean leave here?” Sam frowned, seriously. “I’m,” He shuffled again and looked at his feet. “I’m really grateful,” he said quietly, “but I live with you now, I don’t really want the whole 24/7 work deal too.”

“Huh,” snorted Steve, and I bit back my chuckle as he added, “the bloody cheek of it.”

“No, it’s just,” Sam looked a little worried, “I don’t want that ‘you only got the Strachan deal because of Steve’ from the other guys.” He looked at me. “I just want to work my way up normally.”

“You’re a good mech, Sam,” I said quietly. “You’re getting the offer because of that, nothing else.”

“That’s.... That’s good to hear, boss, but—”

“But it’s up to you whether you take it or not,” I finished. “As it’s up to any other mech here, given the option.”

Sam gave a shaky sigh. “Thank you, my life’s complicated enough without this.”

“You happy with that, Steve?”

Steve nodded, although he looked like he’d miss the kid. Shit. I straightened. I’d miss Steve. Just as well that bollocks over Jan and Gray was finished. I needed to focus everything back into work. Okay so I welcomed it now more than I would any other time.

“If that’s all, we should get back to work,” said Steve, and he was already turning Sam around via Sam’s shoulders.

“Guys,” I headed back around my desk and grabbed my mail.

They both looked back.

“Thank you,” I said, and Sam gave a soft smile.

“No problems, Mr. H.”

I gave Steve a wink, a private thank you, then let them leave. Noticing my hands had rested on an A4-sized manila envelope, I tore it open.

“Fuck, shit.” I instantly sucked on my fingers feeling something sharp slice across my pads. Tipping the contents on the table, a dozen or so razor blades spilled in a pile, two with faint traces of blood on the edges. Next to them lay a Polaroid photo.

Turning it over, I saw the remainder of Ben.

Lay bound to a bed, he had a huge cable tie around his throat, pulled so tight it nearly disappeared into his skin below his Adam’s apple. Razor lines scarred his body, nearly slicing one nipple in half, others crisscrossing his abdomen and flaccid penis. None of that really registered when it came to the man’s face. He had a black eye where he’d been hit, bloodied nose, a blank expression in his eyes, but his mouth.... Someone had taken every care in the world to stitch his mouth shut.