“I think you’re done,” Jagger told him, pulling his hands away from the lifeless body in front of him.
He had entered that black hole again, where he couldn’t remember anything that he had done, only knew he caused pain to another person. Glancing behind him, he saw the rest of the members of Heaven Hill gazing at him. None of their eyes held the look of pity; however, they all held the look of worry. This time it wasn’t just Liam. He’d shown everyone exactly what he was capable of. He’d done the one thing he really hadn’t wanted to do.
Liam stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “We got this. You go on out back for a minute and get yourself together.”
He had broken trust. His pres had sent him to a therapist to get his shit together, and the first time he was given a chance to show that he could hold his own, he’d snapped. “Sorry,” he choked out.
“No, don’t be sorry. You did what we asked you to do.”
“But you didn’t ask me to fly off the handle; I could have stopped a long time ago.”
“You’re making progress if you realize that. No judgment here, my man. Just go out there and get yourself together. You look a little raw.”
That was the truth because he felt very raw. Every time something like this happened—he opened up a wound that he thought had closed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Get himself together? Who the fuck was he kidding? They had come here to figure out just how in the hell someone knew that Jessica was in town. Layne allowed himself five minutes. Five long minutes of pacing, muttering, breathing heavily, playing with his cell phone, and then running his fingers through his hair. Five minutes was all he could make himself stay outside when he knew that the rest of his brothers were questioning someone—who might hold the key as to why Jessica had been targeted.
Squaring his shoulders, he went back in.
“I want to know what you know and why this guy was slinking around your house, trying to take my boys out,” Liam was saying as he stood over two men.
They must have found their contact, and it was easy to figure out which one was the one he’d almost completely decimated. Blood still poured from the guy’s nose, and one eye was swollen shut. He kept quiet as he took a post at the back of the room in between Jagger and Steele.
“He hasn’t talked yet,” Jagger whispered, leaning over.
“Fuck you,” the attacker spit in Liam’s direction.
That didn’t sit well with the pres. He may have leveled out since the birth of Tatum and the settling down of his household, but he was not a pushover. Even Layne flinched when he heard the crack of Liam’s fist against the jawbone of the talker. “Fuck me, huh?” He jerked the collar of the hoodie that the guy wore, exposing a necklace. “You know Dino?” Liam asked suddenly.
“Shit,” Jagger breathed.
“What if I do?”
“Wrong answer, asshole,” Liam said, clocking him in the head with the butt of his gun.
It was lights out for him. He had already been through a lot; they would just have to get back to him later.
“Now, you.” He turned to the other man.
Layne took his first good look at the man and realized that he wore a suit and tie. He looked to be on the other side of 40, but he had thick hair that was devoid of any gray. This must be the banker, the one that fed Meredith information.
“You tell me why the fuck you called us here, and why do you think Jessica Shea is in town?”
The guy had the gall to look back to where Layne stood and locked eyes with him, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “I know she’s in town, and I know she’s in town for him.”
“How?” Liam demanded. “And I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ impatient with this whole situation, so the faster you talk, the better it’s gonna be for you.”
“No, I don’t talk until I get something from you,” he shook his head.
Liam frowned. This guy thought he was going to get something from them? Who did this asshole think he was? “You don’t get to make demands here.”
“You don’t understand. That guy you just cold-cocked, he was here for me.”
“Talk, now,” Liam sighed, running his hand through his hair and blowing out a deep breath. He had a good idea he wasn’t going to like whatever this man had to say to him.
“Dino’s after me, you guys were just collateral damage. That’s why I reached out to Meredith.”
“Which, I might add, really pisses me off, man. If you put her in any kind of danger, these guys are gonna be the least of your problems,” Tyler threatened from where he stood.
Sweat poured from the banker’s face as he sat under the scrutiny of the Native American. “That’s why I reached out. I need protection.”
“From who?” Tyler asked, all up in this guy’s business. “You start talking and you start talking now, otherwise I start throwing punches and then ask questions later.”
“Dino, the Vojnik. They’re holding it over my head that I’m the one who gave the information to them for the bank robberies. I just want out of this,” he breathed heavily.
“What do they want you to do?” Liam asked. Dino would not be holding something over someone’s head unless he wanted them to do something to benefit him.
“I don’t know, I refused to take the meeting.”
“Why can’t anything ever be easy?” Liam breathed. “Here’s the deal, you’re gonna take that damn meeting. First though, you’re going to tell us how and why you know that Jessica Shea’s here and how that has anything to do with one of my guys.”
“Will you offer me protection?” he asked again.
“You tell me what you have to do with Jessica Shea.”
The other man sighed. “She and I have a mutual friend in common.”
That hit Layne the wrong way. “What kind of friend?”
“Ask her who Jackson Wright is.”
His answer was cryptic, and it was obvious by the way he clamped his mouth shut that he wasn’t going to offer any more information. Layne silently fumed; he longed to knock this guy out too but was afraid that if he went too far one more time tonight, he wouldn’t make it back.
“You got nothin’ else to tell us?” Liam asked.
“It’s not my place to tell about her.” He ran a hand over his face. “All I’m asking for is protection.”
“Tell you what,” Liam relented. “You take that meeting, and you tell us exactly what they want. Then we’ll tell you what we can do for you.”
“That’s not what I’m wanting to hear, Liam.”
“I didn’t tell you it was okay to call me by my name, and right now, you need our help, not the other way around. You want us to help you, treat us with some respect.”
“Okay.” The man held up his hands in front of his face. “I’ll take the meeting with Dino.”
“Damn right you will.” Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “You get the meeting set up, and we’ll see what we can do about offering you protection at the meeting. It depends on what kind of information you bring from it if we decide to take a chance.”
“That’s not going to work,” he argued.
Liam pulled the hammer back on the gun he held in his hand. “Do you want me to end it now, or do you at least want to try to figure out what these guys want? It makes absolutely no difference to me.”
“I want to figure out what they want,” he spat out between gritted teeth.
He yanked the phone out of Liam’s hand and dialed a number. He waited mere seconds before he began speaking. “Dino? This is Thomas, I wanna set up that meeting.”
In seconds it was over, and Thomas threw the phone down. “Tomorrow evening.”
Liam disengaged the gun and put it away. “Then we’ll be in touch. Do you feel safe here tonight on your own?”
“No way in hell.” He shook his head.
“I’ll stay with him,” Rooster said from where he stood off to the side. “I’m quite interested in the secrets that
are hiding in this house.”
“Aren’t you the sheriff?” Thomas asked, his brows coming together in question.
“Sheriff’s deputy, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m gonna keep you safe tonight.”
Layne didn’t understand any of this, why was Rooster here, what did he have to do with all this? He wanted to ask so many questions, but he didn’t want to disrespect his pres either. He’d already disappointed and pissed off enough people for the night; he didn’t want to do any more.
“Alright, let’s get out of here. Ty—you gonna take care of this guy?” Liam asked as he kicked the prone, beat-up man on the floor.
“Will do, I’ll see y’all back at the clubhouse.”
That made Layne feel like shit. Someone else was going to have to clean up his mess. He was moody, irritable, and just wanted to be away from the whole group, away from Jessica, away from his feelings. This was another part of the PTSD he hated, he hated feeling one minute like he was on top of the world and the next like he was the dog shit on someone’s shoe. The pills they had originally given him at the VA had helped with this part of it, but they made him feel like such a damn zombie that he knew he couldn’t continue to take them. It was in times like this that he admitted to himself that all he wanted was his life back, the life that he had before he’d gone to war. This was the time he admitted that the worst thing he had ever done was join the military.
“You okay?” Jagger asked. He had watched quietly as the look in Layne’s eyes became wilder, it was obvious he was drifting into a part of his memories that he didn’t like.
“Yeah, just need to get out of here. It’s making me nervous,” Layne blew it off with a small tilt of his lips.
The rest of the group had already started to walk out, yet he stood there, his back to the wall.
“We can leave, you know.”
“I know,” Layne cleared his throat. “I just can’t make my legs move.” What had happened here? Why was he literally paralyzed with anxiety all of a sudden?
Jagger could see the panic rising in his friend. Cautiously, he reached over and clasped his hand around Layne’s wrist. “This good?”
Layne nodded, not saying another word.
Very slowly, Jagger pulled him away from the wall and walked him towards the back of the house and out the back door. Once they broke the doorway, he felt Layne’s body physically relax and heard a deep breath flow through his system.
“Were you holding your breath?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Layne ran his hands down his cut and then back up over his head, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “That’s never happened before.”
“What do you think caused it?”
“No fuckin’ idea, man. We did some house raids in Iraq, though. One or two of them turned hairy, and I felt a little weird going in, but I thought I was fine up until I couldn’t move. It flips on like a switch and that’s what I fuckin’ hate.”
Jagger didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Layne would want to hear, and he didn’t want to discount anything about the situation. If he came on too strong then it would probably piss Layne off, and if he didn’t come on strong enough then it would probably embarrass Layne, so all he did was place a hand on Layne’s shoulder and give it a hard squeeze. “You need anything else, you let me know.”
Those words, more than anything, seemed to fill a hole inside of Layne. It made him feel not so damaged. It wasn’t even the words that his friend had said to him, it was the way he said them. No judgment, no pity. They were just words spoken between two friends that were having a conversation. Layne had never felt more appreciative in his life to have this group of men in his everyday existence. The feelings that he felt scared him, but for one of the first times in a long time, he thought with the help of these guys and possibly Jessica he would be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning, Layne woke up with a mission. He quietly let himself out of his dorm and successfully walked himself out of the clubhouse without a lot of people seeing him. Late last night, he had texted Doc Jones and let her know that he needed to talk to her. That it was important. She had immediately texted him back and told him that she could see him first thing in the morning. That had been all he needed to hear. He knew that he needed to see the Doc before he even saw Jessica again, he needed to get his head wrapped around all the fucked up shit that was going on inside it.
The ride to the old farmhouse was relaxing. He really did love the ride and the scenery that lead out to the office she used. It calmed him down; just liked he had hoped it would. Before long, he was pulling onto the gravel drive. Before he had even fully parked and gotten off the bike, the front door to the house was open, and the Doc stood on the front porch.
“Mornin’, Layne,” she called out, a cup of coffee in her hands. “I think it’s going to be a beautiful day, hot as hell, but beautiful.”
It made him smile to hear her curse, even if it was just the word “hell”. He let the side of his mouth tilt up as he walked up the steps. “Yes ma’am, it does look to be a beautiful scorcher.”
He held the door open for her as they made their way inside.
“You want some coffee, Layne? I have homemade cinnamon rolls too.”
The smell of the fresh-baked pastry hit his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal like that in a very long time. Not since he was small and lived with his grandparents. “That almost smells like my grandmother made it,” he admitted as he walked over to the stove and then bent down, inhaling the sweetness.
“Take one,” she encouraged him. “We’ll eat it out here and drink our coffee before we even begin the session. I don’t have anybody else until the middle of the afternoon.”
He wondered if he should do this, if she was trying to get into his head with a home-cooked breakfast and a cup of coffee. Then he realized just how suspicious that sounded and immediately felt bad. What if she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart and he hurt her feelings? Without another thought, he grabbed two and set them on a plate she had next to the cookie sheet.
“You want coffee or orange juice?” she asked, holding the coffee pot up along with a plastic bottle of the orange stuff.
“Orange juice, if you don’t mind.”
“Don’t do nectar of the gods, huh?” she teased. “We couldn’t be in a long-term relationship.”
He puffed out a breath on a small laugh. “It tears my stomach up. I used to try to drink it when I was at boot camp because it was a different choice than water, but then I’d end up in the fuckin’ bathroom and in trouble. I learned real quick that I have the food palette of a four-year-old,” he smiled. A real smile.
She laughed along with him. “I wish I had a camera so that I could take a picture of that smile that just came across your face, Layne. Now I know why Jessica couldn’t say no to you.” She said it softly, so that she didn’t scare or spook him.
Usually words like that would cause him to tense up, but in this setting, it was okay. “Believe it or not, back in my day…” he laughed when she frowned at him.
“You are not an old man! Don’t even start talking about ‘back in my day’.”
“Back in my day, I was a bit of a ladies man. There weren’t many women that ever said no to me if I put my mind to having them on my arm, in my bed, whatever. They usually just came running.”
“That’s sick, Layne.” She had a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for him to do the same.
He took his cut off and took the seat she indicated, placing his napkin in his lap before he took a bite of the cinnamon roll.
She watched him closely. He had excellent manners. Unlike most men, he didn’t shove the food in his mouth and then chew with his mouth open because it was hot or he’d taken too big a bite. He chewed quietly, slowly, methodically.
“It wasn’t sick,” he said after he swallowed. “They wanted me,” he shrugged. “I took what they offered.�
�
“Were you a ladies man from a young age?”
“I don’t know.” His face flamed red. Now that they were talking about it, he was embarrassed about the words he’d said to her. “Women just seemed to like me.”
Doc Jones took a drink of her coffee and then set it down on the table, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. She cocked her head to the side and cut her eyes at him. “I call bullshit on you, Layne O’Connor. Are you gonna be honest with me or not?”
“Alright, alright,” he sighed.
She watched as he took a drink of his orange juice and politely wiped his mouth.
“When I was younger—a teenager—I lived with my grandparents.”
“Where were you parents?” she interrupted, but this didn’t feel like a session, it felt like she really wanted to know, as someone who wanted to have a conversation with him.
“Mom and Dad had me young, real young. Mom was fifteen years old and Dad was sixteen. I have a few memories of the two of them, but they just couldn’t handle a life with a young child. They were married for two years, from what I understand, and then they got divorced. I can distinctly remember living with my mom until I was about thirteen years old,” he continued.
She sat with her chin on her hand, engrossed in his story. “What happened at thirteen?”
“Mom and I always lived in shithole dives. Like, I can’t remember one good one. We lived in small apartments, run-down houses, and a couple of drafty trailers. When I was thirteen, it took a turn for the worse. She had gotten mixed up with this boyfriend who I couldn’t stand, and he’d moved us into a house just off of Main Street.”
Doc Jones grimaced. That was not a great area of town, and back then it had been even worse.
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