“Whatever happened seemed to help you. Ziggy, er, our doctor friend, said that the artery was repairing itself, so she stitched you up and gave you some antibiotics. Hunter was out cold afterward, so we don’t know about him.”
Julian drank the rest of his coffee, mentally taking stock of things. Inside things. How he felt, what he thought.
“Everything seems normal. I feel… a bit apprehensive about my future, but that’s normal with the organization on my ass. I have like two hundred bucks to my name. My cards will be cut off if they’re not already. I can’t go anywhere, yet if I sit here, I’m a dead man.”
“Cobb said he’d talk to the feds about you turning witness against the cartel. That deal comes with protection.”
“Fuck that. There’s no way I’m turning on them. Sure, they want to kill me, but if I squeal? Then their hearts are really in it. It’s a done deal then.”
“Look, just hear him out, okay? Like you said, you don’t have money to run, you probably wouldn’t get far anyway. You sure you don’t feel anything wonky?”
Julian shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’d tell you. Really, I would, but I think it’s just me.” As soon as he said it, he felt a twinge of doubt, a little niggle of fear. But then who wouldn’t? Thinking some foreign entity was all up in their business?
Abraham pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.
“That reminds me, I need a new phone. Mine was through the cartel, and I dumped it.”
A few minutes later Abraham’s phone buzzed. “Regge says Hunter is good, meaning he’s all Hunter, but he’s left Regge’s.” Abraham looked up. “Come with me. I gotta go check my bar, and you can get cleaned up or whatever.”
“Funny enough, my schedule is open. Thanks.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hunter on avoiding relationship issues and regaining memories
Itook an Uber straight to Pinkie’s Bar. Once I’d gotten outside Regge’s apartment and had two seconds to think, I realized I had no place to go. It was early in the morning. My apartment and Izzy’s house were occupied. I had no idea where my car was. I could call Abraham, but again, it was early. Bar folk were not morning folk. Not that I wanted to talk to anyone.
Once at Pinkie’s, I skirted the building to let myself in the back entrance, flicking on a couple of lights. I looked in the large cooler and found some ham slices, tomato, and mayo to make a sandwich. Finished in four bites, made and ate another, not recalling the last time I’d eaten anything.
Grabbing a soda from the cooler under the bar, I landed in Abe’s office, plopping myself down on the undersized love seat. The room itself was not much bigger than a closet—a long, narrow closet. Abe’s desk butted up against the end wall with barely enough room for the rolling chair next to it.
I drank my soda and tried to settle my mind. What stupid continual optimism. The ridiculous notion that one night of great sex would fix everything. Really, it was two nights, right? The night in the woods, under the stars, Regge’s soft moans of pleasure under my hands. And then last night. Where had yesterday gone? Why couldn’t I remember?
I pulled out my phone and checked the date. The camping night had been two nights ago, not one. I’d lost an entire night and two days. Almost thirty-six hours. And Regge knew why.
The soda gone, I pulled Abe’s shirt from the back of his chair and used it as a pillow. Exhausted, confused, and yes, I would admit it, heartbroken, I closed my eyes and slept. I’d trusted Regge. At the very least, we were friends—and friends didn’t lie to each other.
“Hunter? Is that you?” Abraham was looking at me strangely. I must have slept because I felt groggy and stiff.
“Do I not look like me?” I sat up and smoothed down my hair. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
Abraham stood in the doorway to his office, a worried frown on his face. “How do you feel?”
“Fine. Why does everyone keep asking that? I made a sandwich, well, two. Am I on shift today?” God, I wanted to be working. I was tired, but work was normal, and keeping busy would keep me from thinking.
“Don’t worry about that. Why aren’t you at Regge’s? You should be resting.”
“We had a fight.”
Abe leaned back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “About the whole ritual thing? No one anticipated that happening. We’re glad you’re back. It’s been a tough few days. For both of you, I expect.”
I rubbed at my face, not understanding my boss’s words. We’d done the ritual? Already? “I think I need coffee.” I stood up, but something in Abraham’s expression stopped me. “What?”
“Ah. Well, there’s someone here. He needed a place to go. Don’t panic.” Abe turned and walked toward the bar area.
I followed him out, wondering what the hell had happened between camping and last night in Regge’s bed. “So do you know where my car is?”
Abraham poured black coffee into a heavy mug. “Julian Eskridge, meet Bruce Hunter, my employee and friend.” He gave a head jerk toward the corner booth.
