The top floor had several small but efficient rooms, the bottom was a recreation center of sorts. There were games and books, couches and chairs, pretty much anything a bunch of twenty-one year olds needed to amuse themselves.
There was a door between the two buildings that allowed them to come and go from Jericho’s shop as often as they liked unseen, which Arsen loved since he could essentially roll out of bed and be at work.
“Why are we here, Freckles?”
Atticus dragged himself from his thoughts. “Because, after months of searching, I finally found you the perfect anniversary gift.”
Jericho eyed him warily but slid from the Bronco, waiting for Atticus to come around the vehicle before approaching Adam and Noah. Adam nodded at Atticus and then proceeded to do some complicated handshake thing with Jericho. The two of them had their own thing now that they’d reached some kind of understanding.
Adam was still an asshole, still spoiled and selfish, but he stopped making snide comments about Atticus’s inability to kill, or the way he dressed, or, well, everything. Maybe Jericho had threatened him, but Atticus didn’t think so. He also didn’t question it.
“Careful with that one,” Noah said, nodding towards the cabin with a grimace. “He’s a spitter.”
“A spitter?” Jericho echoed.
Noah nodded earnestly. “Yeah, like one of those creepy little Jurassic Park dinosaurs that spits goo at you to blind you. I put a bag over his head.”
Jericho looked at Atticus in confusion. “What the hell did you get me, Freckles? A llama?”
Atticus took Jericho’s hand and led him into the cabin as the others drove away. Jericho stopped short just inside the doorway, taking in the scene. There was a man tied to the chair in the center of the room, arms and legs bound, a sack over his head.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Jericho asked warily.
“Sure,” Atticus said, voice going soft. “I found him.”
Jericho frowned. “Found who?” At Atticus’s heavy silence, Jericho’s eyes grew wide. “Him? Him, him? Reed? You found Reed? Where?”
Atticus glared in the man’s general direction. “Running some hatchet job clinic in Mexico. It was a giant pain in the ass getting him back over the border, but you’d be shocked at what the Federales are willing to do for a paycheck.”
Reed was the last domino to fall. They hadn’t been able to find anything linking Gabriel Velez to Reed or his hospital of horrors. As much as Atticus would have loved to get Gabe in their murder cabin, he was just a shitty cop on the take. Well, he was anyway. Now he was a shitty former cop working as a bartender.
Jericho crossed the room, yanking the hood from the man. Atticus couldn’t believe that a man so…average could have caused so much chaos and destruction. He was pathetic, really. Thinning gray hair, doughy face. But there was a meanness to him. He had dead eyes. Almost reptilian. Maybe that explained the spitting.
“Who the fuck are you people?”
“The medical board,” Atticus quipped. “We’re here to officially revoke your license.”
The man frowned in confusion. “What?”
“My name is Jericho Navarro. My sister Mercy ended up in one of your little clinics. Then she ended up dead.”
Atticus watched understanding dawn. The man began to frantically shake his head, his body erupting in flop sweat. “I’m sorry for your loss, but this was for a greater good. There’s much more at play than simply one person. My studies could change the way wars are fought.”
Jericho punched the man in the face hard enough to rocket him backwards, blood flying from his lips.
Atticus stepped closer. “The military shut you down years ago. We thought, at first, you were just running a black book operation. But through numerous sources we learned that your tactics were deemed too cruel for the military. How much of a fucking monster do you have to be for a super-secret military operation to decide you’re too brutal?”
Jericho looked around. “Did you bring my tools, Freckles?”
“Of course.” Atticus nodded towards the bag on the floor. “I even packed something extra special for the occasion.”
Jericho kissed him long and deep until Atticus felt warm in his core. “Thanks.”
Atticus preened, hopping up onto the table and lying back, just as he’d done when they’d interrogated Trevor. Jericho took his time, setting up his tools, pausing when he stopped at his special surprise. “Is this a hand saw?”
“August found it at the old meat packing plant. Turn the safety off and squeeze the trigger.”
Jericho did as instructed and it roared to life. His eyes went wide. “It’s cordless? This is amazing.”
