Antidote (Don't) (41 page)

“I’m sure,” I said, cutting him off and picking up the client book. “Thank you.” I gave Aid a smile, dismissing Paul. “Anything in particular you want me to handle today?” The door went, and I knew we’d been left to it.

“Sure,” said Aid, already sorting through the list. “We’ve been really busy on the run-up to Christmas. Sam was working on a job that came in late last night. It’s already set up in your station.”

“Christ, give him half an inch....”

Aid chuckled and I gave him the book back before heading for the main workshop. Before I reached the door, I stopped and looked back at Aid. “Sorry for leaving you in the lurch with no warning.” Aid was waving me off. “Your dad handled the business side; I just got on with the usual. Steve came over and sorted the wages and Christmas bonuses. Moaned something about having enough on his plate, then was back over at Strachan’s.”

Always someone around to clear up the shit. “I’ll give him a call later; smooth things out.”

Aid nodded, then winked. “Only don’t tell him I said anything about it. He’s already sore about me not going with him.”

“Okay. Thanks for the heads up. Can’t have Steve pissed off, now can we?” I let my smile fade as I headed on through to the main garage. The Rover took my attention, and I barely noticed as mechanics started to slip into work around me. But as someone tapped me on the shoulder, I bit back a curse and buried the need to hit something.

“What the hell are you doing, Jack?”

Giving a glance to my left, I saw my old man peering down at me as I worked by the front wheel.

I carried on tightening up a bolt but another tap on my shoulder stopped me.

“Jack,” said my old man. “Answer me.”

“It’s a garage, Dad, and I own it. What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” I said, not looking up. The torque wrench I held was pulled from my hands.

“Get home,” said my old man, and I eased up. “You can’t be doing this now,” he said, leaning against a side panel.

“You have your own business to run. Leave me to mine, yeah?”

“No.” He suddenly came in close, forcing me to back off a few paces. “I have a son, one I didn’t even know I nearly lost. There’s never been anything but him.” He reached to touch my neck, but he let his hand fall dejectedly to his side. “Please, Jack. Go home, even if it is to Gray’s. Rest. Get better. I mean, have you even eaten anything yet, because, Christ, you, you look so fucking ill.”

Pulling the cloth from my back pocket, I wiped my hands. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” said my old man. He went over to my work table and picked up a pair of gloves. They were put in my hand a moment later. “Why aren’t you wearing them, Jack? Forget your OCD, they’re standard for all mechanics, or have you forgotten health and safety now?” he said, looking at me. “Now tell me you’re fucking fine.”

I pulled the gloves from his hands. “I forgot,” I said, slipping them on, “I—” The ringing of a phone came from reception and—

The phone was picked up the other end as I stood there in the living room, pressing the receiver close to my ear.

“Dad?”

“Jack?” A pause. “Jack, honey. I hope you’re enjoying that man of yours.”

“Mom... Is... Is Dad there?”

“No, honey. He’s at work; I’m just picking up some solicitor’s letters. What’s wrong? You sound funny?”

“Tired....” Christ, it was bloody hard to talk. “Garage... is the garage okay?”

“Garage? Oh, yes. Your dad arranged someone to stand in for you when he got your text. It was short notice, though, honey—”

“—Sorry—”

“But he’s got it covered. Just don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll see you two after the Christmas holiday, honey.”

“Mom—”

“There’s someone at the door, Jack. Talk soon.”

The line went dead before I’d finished, and I closed my eyes. Realising I still held my coffee, I let the receiver rest back in the cradle, then went over to the sofa. I sat, the coffee going in my lap, my head dropping onto the back of the sofa, and the heavy rise and fall of my chest forced me to close my eyes. Hot coffee soaking through my jogging bottoms jerked me awake and I put the cup down.

Tired. Curling my legs up onto the sofa, I lay down and gave up the will to stay awake. Sleep... I just needed to sleep.

“Jack?” Vince crouched in front of me, head tilted slightly as he managed a small smile. “Hey, you made it downstairs on your own and had a coffee. Bet you didn’t make it so far as to make that call to your old man, though?”

“Jack?” Standing there in the garage, my old man’s face had paled. “You...” A hand brushed mine, then rested down as my old man knelt next to me. “You were gone then.” Hair was brushed away from my eyes. “An hour’s lunch, son?” I looked at him. “Just enough to get something to eat, five minutes time out, maybe catch up with some sleep. I’ll go get you something. But you... you need time out.”

“I have food in the office,” I said, easing to my feet and finding life waltzed with me. The lie over the food came easy, but it was needed.

“Good, good.” My old man stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me as I downed my tools. For a moment I thought I heard something back over by reception, but Sue was busy working, her dinner hour staggered with Aid’s so the office was always open. “Jack, you can shout and curse me all you like when I’m gone, but,” he was looking back at me, looked me over, “but I’m going to have a word with Aid. He’s going to be made aware that you can’t do any heavy labour.”

He eased back a touch as I levelled my gaze on him.

“Yeah?” said my old man. “Like I haven’t dealt with that look enough times through the years. I’ll say you’ve had an op whilst you were away. Nothing more.” He tried a diluted smile. “It’s either that or I come here and supervise things. And trust me, I will.”

The satisfaction that came to his eyes said it all when I looked away.

“Aid it is, then.” I got a rub at my shoulder before my old man headed for reception. “Call me when you get off at five, Jack.” I glanced back to see him look over his shoulder. “And I mean when you get off at five.”

I wiped my hands again, watching as he went on through to reception. He stood talking to Sue, and he made it pretty clear he wasn’t going anywhere until I took a break. After tossing the cloth onto the work unit, I went on over to see Sue grin.

“Good break, Mr. Harrison?”

I smiled, knowing she only kept the formalities for when my old man was around. “Yes thanks. You...” I frowned a touch. “You have a good Christmas?”

“Quiet,” she said, her look saying it had been a lover’s quiet Christmas. There was still that light flush to her face, that hint of a new relationship in her eyes, and I grounded some teeth away seeing it.

“Good, good,” I said, registering somewhere that I’d just repeated my old man’s words.

“Steve’s upstairs,” she said, shifting slightly and pointing up. “Something about the accounts?”

“Right,” I said, and nodded at my old man before I headed through to the stairs. Old aches came back, sending glitches, little trickles of pain up into my groin, and I took things slowly with each step. By the time I’d made it upstairs and into my office, I needed to sit down.

“Jack.” Steve was hovering by my desk, or more my computer. Two long disposable cups were resting on it, close to my mail, and I headed on over casting a glance at the cups, then Steve as he stood there flicking through an accounts books. “Glad you’re bloody back,” he said, not looking up, but managing a scowl. “I think I fucked the accounts up a bit over Christmas.” He gave a disgruntled sigh, shut the book, and then threw it on the table. “I’ve kept receipts and wage slips for you to review. The guy your old man sent said he’d handle it.” Steve really didn’t look happy, but he still wouldn’t look at me either. “But he wanted to do it all via this computer program your old man uses. I tried to explain that you had a system that didn’t rely so much on computers, and it took your old man stepping in to stop him screwing things up.”

He stepped aside as I went over to the window. A flick of the blind saw my old man heading for his car.

“Got you this.”

Letting the blind fall back into place, I saw a cup offered to me as Steve rested against the window sill. Taking the cup off him, I opened the lid. He had coffee. I had soup.

“Good break?” said Steve.

I smiled down at my soup and put the lid back on. “You know I’ve been on no fucking holiday, Steve.”

Things fell pretty quiet very quickly, and I looked at him. “Get a nice call off Gray this morning, did we? Just like my old man did? Everybody’s suddenly best buddies lately.”

“Jack—”

The soup went on the window sill—I pinned him up against the blinds. “How long have you been playing eye-spy for Gray?” I asked quietly.

“Jack—”

“See,” I pushed his head back against the window. “I never actually mentioned anything to Gray or Jan about what happened in that hotel in Essex, not outside of Sam.” I breathed, deep, long, slow. “Surveillance... surveillance was outside of my dojo when all the shit hit the fan afterwards with Mark Shaw.” I ran a thumb along his jaw. “You make that call to Gray to let him know I was at yours?”

Steve didn’t let his gaze drop. “Let me go. Jack.”

“What else have you told him over the past eleven years, hmmm?” The thumb tracing his jaw dug into his throat, making it hard for him to swallow. “Because you know that surveillance crew? They were slaughtered.”

Steve’s face creased.

“Hmmm,” I said. “Usually if I choose to disappear, it’s for a good reason.” I shrugged. “Either I’ve fucked things up for people I care about, or I need to get away from people I care about. Tell me...” I gave a small smile. “What would have happened if I’d have gone back to my old man’s? My mother’s? Would you have seen them fucked up just to keep your nose up Gray’s arse? Did you—”

An arm slipped around my throat and I was torn off Steve, spun back towards my office desk. Breath caught, I felt every jolt hit my body. My hip caught the corner of the table, and I stumbled away, doubling over and glaring up at Sam as he stood in front of Steve.

“Leave him alone, Jack.” The scrawny bastard was shaking, yet there was something there to say he’d defend what was his. “You’ll no doubt kick my ass, but I’ll damn well make sure you break your neck slipping on my blood if you touch him again.”

“Sam.” Steve tried to push aside but Sam shook himself like a dog, keeping Steve behind him.

“This have anything to do with the guys that chased me away from your house all those months ago?” Sam looked ready to jump at the slightest move, mostly away from me. “With the black Mercs I keep seeing around you?” He wiped at his nose, not exactly wiping at his nose, more to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. I fucking hated those tears that threatened to fall. “Jack, stop, okay. You—just leave Steve alone. Please.”

“Sam, Sam it’s okay.” Steve pushed him to one side. “Jack, for christsake.” He came over but I shrugged him off as he went to grab my shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he said, easing off, hands up. Then he took hold of my soup and put in on the table by me. “Yeah, I called Gray over the Essex shit. And, yeah, he called me this morning and told me you’d been kidnapped and fucked over.” Seeing I made no move to grab the soup, he forced me to lift my hand and take it. “Fucking sue me, Jack. Gray worships the ground you walk on. Me? I’m your fucking friend.”

I went close, nose-to-nose close. Sam was there again, but I caught him by the hair and kept him still. “You go behind my back again, I’ll forget any history we have together. We clear?” I pushed Sam between us, at Steve. “And I’ll go through everyone you care about first.”

Giving a sigh, Steve rested back against the window, pulling Sam away to the side, away from me. “Nice to see the thug again, Jack,” he said coldly. “You know, there are a fair few people from our past who’d say you got everything you fucking deserved the past few weeks. Tell me, do you even remember the likes of Mase, what you did to him and his old man?” His lips thinned. “And now you threaten Sam? Another kid? All we need now is for Martin to make an appearance, eh, Jack? Really get the shit-party started.”