Jesus, it must have been a heck of a bender he’d been on. There were empty bottles all over his study, and he’d lost two days. Mitch had never indulged to that level before and wondered what the hell had got into him. Actually, Mitch knew what had: Jess Mayhew. He missed her a great deal. Jess had crawled under his defences and burrowed into him, and now Mitch required her as much as he needed oxygen.
Mitch picked himself up from the floor and sniffed himself in disgust. Christ. He reeked. With a deep sigh, Mitch headed upstairs and into his bedroom. He shucked his clothes and walked naked into his shower. Mitch spent thirty minutes in there trying to ease the stiffness in his body and his headache.
He stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself. Movement made him jump, and Mitch turned and saw Diar standing there. He shook his head as Diar headed into the bedroom.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Diar demanded as Mitch followed.
“You’re meant to be in hiding,” Mitch said.
“When someone’s best friend goes AWOL for three days, a person panics. What happened?” Diar pressed.
“On a three-day bender, I think,” Mitch replied.
“You think? Did you count how many empty bottles there are? I’m considering running you to the hospital to get your liver checked,” Diar quipped.
Mitch snarled wordlessly as he entered his closet and yanked some clothes on. He walked back out and gazed at Diar.
“I’ll make coffee, you cook,” he ordered, and Diar smirked.
“Can you handle food?”
“For a three-day bender, I’m doing great. All I have is a headache,” Mitch said, leaving the bedroom with Diar on his heels.
“Seriously? You always got bad-tempered when you drank,” Diar replied.
“Yeah, just a headache. Not sure what that means, but I definitely don’t feel hungover. In fact, I could easily eat a full English,” Mitch stated.
Diar frowned. “That’s not normal for you. Actually, this whole thing is weird. You haven’t drunk to excess since you were twenty-one and certainly have never indulged in a three-day bender. Mitch, what happened when you saw Leon Ericks?” Diar demanded.
Mitch paused in the act of filling the kettle and faced Diar.
“Leon Ericks?” he asked, racking his brain. “Diar, I’ve not seen Leon Ericks. You do mean the crazy, reclusive billionaire?”
Diar turned to Mitch and frowned. “What are you talking about? You went to see Ericks to give him the flash drive, so Jess could learn who you really are.”
“I’ve no memory of seeing Leon Ericks,” Mitch said slowly. As he attempted to remember, a pain pierced his head, and Mitch let out a cry and grabbed his temples, bending over.
“What?” Diar exclaimed.
“I don’t recall anything about meeting him. I remember putting the flash drive in my pocket and then nothing. Everything is blank. Diar, what the hell happened to me? What did Ericks do?” Mitch demanded.
“Good question,” Diar said grimly. “Ericks’ fucked with your head somehow. Why? Is he a Sealgair Uilebheist that we don’t know about?”
“You need to leave. Being here puts you in more danger,” Mitch insisted as coldness swept through his body. His hands shook slightly, and deep down, Mitch realised something had happened, and he couldn’t remember it.
“I’m not leaving you,” Diar denied.
“You have to, Diar, you’re all the family I have left, and I won’t put you in harm’s way.” There was no way he’d risk Diar’s safety, especially if this were a dangerous plot by the Sealgair Uilebheist to get revenge on Mitch.
“Alexander was released on bail and is staying out of the limelight. However, Alfred is behind bars. That makes them unpredictable. I’m not leaving your side,” Diar refused.
Mitch went to argue, and a second piercing pain hit, and he staggered and fell to his knees.
“Shit! Mitch!” Diar cried, alarmed.
“There’s a memory, it’s just out of reach,” Mitch muttered. Did he fight for it, or let it go and hope it came to him eventually? No, Mitch had never quit before; this time would be no different. He strained against the blockage, which he felt was what it was, and shoved hard. Further pain lanced through him, but Mitch gritted his teeth. He collapsed onto his backside, and his body began shaking.
“Mitch, what the hell?” Diar sobbed in alarm.
