by Jon Mills
That’s where that extra hundred grand came in handy.
Without passports, they couldn’t fly but they didn’t seem to mind. It gave them a chance to get to know each other. They stayed in several good hotels, ate well and at the first chance they got, Noah called home.
Liz was beyond relieved.
Jack chewed away on beef jerky as they stayed a night in a hotel somewhere in the middle of Hermosillo, Mexico. The TV was playing, as Noah made a phone call. Reports on the riot had made headlines. Mostly for the number of deaths but also because word of the conditions had spread to human rights advocates. They were now calling for a complete revamp of prison policy in light of allegations made against Lázaro.
The same crooked law officials that had assisted Lázaro in the beginning would sweep most of what had occurred under the rug. Atrocious conditions in Honduras prisons would continue until someone changed them. Until then, their cry for justice would fade into the background.
The upside was no more men would be forced to fight to the death to line the pockets of a greedy warden. There was no mention of Jack and Noah’s escape or Henry’s death, which was no surprise. Still, he’d checked online at a local Internet café every few days for news reports. Nothing. He assumed that among the underhanded dealings that Lázaro had made, some of them included the arrest and incarceration of innocent men. It was easier to make the innocent disappear than to explain why they had died in prison.
No doubt, those who had got into bed with him had some kind of exit plan in place that would allow them to wash their hands of any involvement.
Noah hung up and lay on his bed. He tossed a few peanuts in his mouth.
“How is she?” Jack asked.
“Unable to wait.” He paused. “What are you going to do when we get back to the USA?”
Jack shrugged, rubbed his eye and took a swig of his beer.
“Why don’t you stick around a while?”
“That doesn’t tend to work well for me.”
There was silence between them, only the drone of a news anchor rambling on about the current state of Honduras before shifting gears to the latest lotto numbers.
“Jack. You know I appreciate what you did for me.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I mean it, I wouldn’t have survived in there much longer.”
“Maybe. You’d be surprised how quickly we adapt to our surroundings.”
Noah opened his mouth to say something then gazed down.
“What you did back there, with those guards. You didn’t hesitate to kill.”
“And?”
“In the cage I can understand it, even outside being attacked in a riot. We had no choice. But…”
“You’re out, that’s all that matters.”
Jack rose from his seat and went over to the window and looked out. It had become habit. Though he was pretty certain that no one would come looking, especially not in Mexico, he still did it. In the reflection of the window he saw Noah reach for his beer before he continued to pepper Jack with questions.
“Was dad, I mean, was Eddie part of the Mafia?”
Jack snorted. “Eddie? No. He warned me against them.” He sighed. “I didn’t listen. Too young, too cocky. I thought I knew best.”
“How did he die?”
Jack hesitated before he replied. Painful memories flooded in. “Trying to protect our sister.”
Noah nodded, and placed his beer on a side table before heading into the bathroom. He stood at the door for a second as if another question was weighing on his mind.
“Will you ever return to New York?” Noah asked.
Had he been asked that ten years ago, he would have laughed. New York had been home for so long. Back then had no reason to venture out, but now… the Big Apple only held bad memories.
“Perhaps one day.”
Three days later, Liz was there to greet them as they arrived at her home. Jack watched as she hugged Noah and wept on his shoulder. Jack stood by the car feeling as though he was peering into a moment he knew nothing about — like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He knew something was missing from his life but he’d lived so long without it, it no longer mattered.
His mother didn’t greet him the same, and yet he never expected her to.
“Thank you, Jack.”
She reached out and shook his hand. As she did it, she pulled him in for a hug. It was an awkward exchange, clumsy, unnatural even. His only memory of her had been from an old photo. And yet here she was trying to bridge the gap of forty years. She stepped back.
Noah walked back to her and put his arm around her and squeezed.
“Well, come on in,” she said turning to head back into the house.
“Actually, I think I’ll be going.”
“But you just got here,” Noah said, frowning.
He pushed off the banged-up, ten-year-old vehicle they’d picked up from some used car lot in Tucson. He smiled. “I should keep moving.”
“You have a restless heart,” his mother said.
He shrugged. Jack tossed the keys to Noah. “Keep it.”
He chuckled. “As if. The damn thing broke down on us twice.”
Liz stepped forward. “Jack, you don’t need to go. At least stay for supper.”
He looked off down the long stretch of road with palm trees either side. He had nowhere in particular to go. No pressing matter. He’d always wondered what his mother would have been like, and what he would do if he’d had the chance to know her. Now it was before him, he felt like a fish out of water. As the ocean waves crashed against the shore, and a fading sun waned behind the trees, he looked back at the two of them.
He squinted, and cupped a hand to block the glare. “Okay, but just for a meal.”
Noah smirked, moved in fast and wrapped his arm around Jack’s neck. On the way in, Noah continued to rattle on and Jack just smiled. “You know, Jack, I thought we could go into business. I have this great idea for a new importing and exporting venture.”
As his mother held the door open, Jack caught her eye.
In that split second, he realized several things.
She might not have been the mother he had imagined.
Nor could he fully grasp her reasons for leaving so many years ago.
But in that moment, he was no longer a drifter, an ex-hit man, or a stranger with no fixed abode, he was a son, a brother, a friend, with a place he could call home — if only for an evening.
A Plea
Thank you for reading Debt Collector 8: Hard Time. If you enjoyed the book, I would really appreciate it if you would consider leaving a review. I can’t stress how helpful this is in helping other readers decide if they should give it a shot. Reviews from readers like you are the best recommendation a book can have. Without reviews, an author’s books are virtually invisible on the retail sites. It also lets me know what you liked. You can leave a review by visiting the book’s page. I would greatly appreciate it. It only takes a couple of seconds.
Thank you — Jon Mills
Newsletter
Thank you for buying Debt Collector 8: Hard Time
Building a relationship with readers is one of the best things about writing. I occasionally send out a newsletter with details on new releases and subscriber only special offers. For instance, with each new release of a book, you will be alerted to it at a subscriber only discounted rate.
Click here to receive special offers, bonus content, and news about Jon’s new books, sign up for the newsletter.
About the Author
Jon Mills is originally from England. He currently lives in Canada. He is the author of The Debt Collector series, The Promise, the Undisclosed Trilogy and many other books under pen names. To get more information about upcoming books or if you wish to get in touch with Jon, you can do so using the following contact information:
@Jon_Mills
authorjonmills
www.jonmills.com
contact@jonmi
lls.com