A hell of a life. He and the others had offered to break Keegan free, help him disappear, but Keegan never took them up on it. He disappeared for months at a time, came back, tended bar, etc.
The man always came through. He went into the living room, handed Jack back his phone. “You’re being watched. What’s that all about?”
“Nothing good, but they’re not telling me shit.” Jack held up his official cell phone. “I’ve been told not to report to work. To hand in my badge and gun. To not leave the city.” Jack ran his hands through his hair. “I’m betting they think Grier and I had something to do with Benji’s disappearance. Which means you need to go before they take you in for questioning.”
“Yeah, I was planning on that. Do you have a throwaway phone I can contact you on?”
Jack nodded. Pulled one that was still in a box out of a drawer, powered it up and gave Reid the number. “I doubt I’m going to be able to use it. Just find her, Reid. I’ll handle the heat, whatever it is.”
“I put Dylan’s number in there. Memorize it. If you have one phone call, he’s better than a lawyer any day.” Reid pulled his bag’s long handle over his head and across his chest. “I’ll go out through the basement.”
“There’s no real exit—ah, forget it.” Jack waved him off and Reid chuckled as he left. He took the stairs, heading down each flight cautiously, not wanting to come face-to-face with a fed or the like who might’ve followed him here. Though he doubted it. These guys had probably been on Jack since he left the scene at the hotel.
Now, he walked into one of the bars along the strip and out the back entrance and lost himself in the maze of alleys and back entrances until he was far enough away. No one had followed and that was good. For Jack, it wasn’t—meant the man couldn’t help to find his partner, and Reid knew how frustrating that was.
He also knew he was deliberately not thinking about Grier at the moment. Because thinking about her could cause him to lose focus, to worry about the very real fact that she might be hurt.
He shook it off and grabbed a cab to the building that was across town. No time to waste, according to his watch. And when he got to the section of town that looked like he should be walking around carrying at least a piece of metal pipe, the driver gave him a good-luck-on-surviving smirk as he hightailed the cab out of there.
The building Keegan directed him to looked deserted, which Reid supposed was the point. He ambled up to it, not bothering to look at the men who seemed to be coming out of the woodwork to assess him.
One of them stopped Reid about ten paces from the front entrance with a beefy hand on Reid’s chest. Reid looked between the hand and the man’s face. “You really don’t want to put your hands on me.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“I’m a crazy fuck just home from war.”
The man’s eyebrows went up and he’d no doubt seen a lot of former soldiers in just that shape. “Just protecting my stuff, man.”
“No harm. Benny’s expecting me.”
The guy turned to look at who Reid supposed was Benny. “You Reid?” he called out, and when Reid nodded, he motioned him forward.
“You might be crazier than Keegan said you were. I told him you’d never survive coming here alone. I thought you’d come escorted by some of the OAs.”
“Figured I wouldn’t bother them.”
Benny stared at him with a hard look, then handed him a blank card, told him to be back here at midnight to check in.
“You’re the third fight—right after the women’s match.” Benny looked him up and down, sizing him up. “Guy you’re fighting’s big. Former Marine. Force recon.”
“Crazy motherfuckers,” Reid muttered.
“Keegan says you’re a good guy. He never says that.” With that, Benny shut the door in his face, nearly lopping his nose off.
“Wonder what would’ve happened if he hadn’t said it?” Reid said out loud. His phone was starting to annoy the ever-loving shit out of him. He had an hour before he had to be back here, so he turned to the man who’d stopped him. “Anyplace to eat around here?”
“You’re fighting?”
“Yeah. So let me correct my question—anyplace I can eat around here that I don’t have to fight before the fight?”
He turned around to look at the other men. One of them nodded and the beefy-handed guy turned back to Reid. “Restaurant a block down on the corner. No one will bother you.”
Reid wondered if they had some kind of signal to assure him that, but on the walk down, no one even moved as he walked by. When he caught sight of the small restaurant with the dirty sign and covered windows, he answered Dylan’s call as he walked.
“I’m fine. Everything is under control.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear as the string of curses shot out from the man’s mouth more vehemently than Reid had ever heard them. And he’d thought he’d heard it all.
Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Dylan formed real words that needed a response. “What. Are. You. Doing.”
“Headed to grab some food.”
Dylan sighed and Reid was glad he wasn’t in spitting distance of the man. “I spoke to Keegan.”
“You didn’t threaten him, did you?”
“Of course.”
“Dammit, Dylan, you’re going to burn my contacts.”
“He’s my contact too,” Dylan pointed out drily. “So is Teddie. Practically had to waterboard her to get her to tell the truth.”
“What stopped you?”
“Kell’s pretty persuasive,” he said seriously. “And stop avoiding the question—what the hell are you planning?”
He filled Dylan in, in short order, about the fighting ring and his plans for the night.
“Your ribs—”
“Already hurt,” Reid told him, as he entered
