The Running Game (Reachers Book 1)

by L E Fitzpatrick

  Mark was still gawping.

  “Do you understand, officer?”

  Mark nodded. “Yes, sir.” He glanced up at Rachel as though this were the most incredible moment of his life.

  “Good, what are you waiting for then?”

  “Right, of course.” Mark looked to Rachel trying to offer her some kind of explanation but understanding nothing of what was happening. His face was reverberating with trepidation. Rachel gave him a nod of encouragement. It was all she could muster, knowing how devastated he would be when he realised he had been conned.

  Mark turned back to the special agent. “Eh, are you coming?”

  Roxy laughed at his naivety, playing the part like a pro. “Once I've had a chat with your girl here. Need her to be sure of a few points regarding the Secrecy Act. I'll check in with your sergeant too and let him know I've made contact with you. Remember, you're on radio silence until further notice. Looking forward to working with you, Mark.”

  He forced another handshake, guiding Mark out of his own flat. The door was slammed shut. Rachel waited for Mark to come to his senses. A few paces away from Roxy's charm surely he'd realise it was all a scam. He didn't. The man had a weakness for half brain ideas. She felt a pang inside her chest. He didn't deserve this.

  “Why the hell did you do that?” She shoved Roxy in the shoulder.

  There were so few cops in the city who actually cared, and even with his misguided, illogical, nonsensical, downright ridiculous ideas about the world, Mark was one of the good guys. But after all this, who knew what it would do to him.

  Roxy shrugged nonchalantly. Rachel could see that in his eyes a cop was a cop. What did he care? “Gets him out of our hair, doesn't it?”

  “When he doesn't show up to work he's going to get fired.”

  “Well, if you don't like it go after him and tell him it was all a lie.” Roxy folded his arms, knowing full well there was nothing she could do, even if she wanted to. “If he knew what you were do you honestly think he wouldn't turn you in? This city is filled with scum and cops are the worst of the lot.”

  “Mark's not like that. He genuinely believes in the force.”

  “Then he's an idiot.”

  She couldn't argue with that so she pouted at him instead.

  “You know honest cops tend to get murdered by their peers. I've probably just saved his life.”

  “You're an asshole,” she replied.

  “Well what I lack in manners I make up for in humour and handsomeness.” He beamed. “Hey, what have you got to eat in this place?”

  As he went to inspect the cupboards his mobile sounded off. The first bars of an Andy Williams song sounded.

  “Hello?” He said, wedging the phone to his ear. “Well hello, my darling.”

  He glanced at Rachel and smiled. She was too angry to dignify him with a response.

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He hung up the phone and returned to the cupboard.

  “Are you always such a smooth talker?” Rachel asked.

  “If you must know, that was my mother. She expects it. My God, this really is dire. Let's get takeout. I know a great Chinese place.”

  “Didn't Charlie say we should wait here?”

  Roxy scratched the mop of hair on his head. “And if he showed up and we were gone I suppose he'd probably do something rash and stupid. Tell you what, I'll be gone half an hour tops. You sit tight and I will get us a banquet!”

  “What if someone comes?”

  “Use your powers. Honestly, it'll be worth it. You ever had Chinese?”

  She shook her head.

  “In that case I'll get the works.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “Here, take my phone. If anything goes wrong call John.”

  25

  Gary had never killed anyone.

  He'd let men be killed and he'd watched a guy hang himself from the level crossing bridge, but he'd never actually done the deed himself. Sometimes he fantasised about it, wrapping his hands around a neck, squeezing a bit harder than normal. Truth was he didn't have the nerve.

  He'd promised the scarred Scotsman, damned if he could remember the guy's name, that he could do whatever was needed and the lie was starting to nag at him. Would he actually be able to kill his partner? He contemplated it over and over again as he watched Mark hurry towards the tramlines.

  No matter how hard he tried he couldn't do it. He liked the kid. He was a good partner; didn't ask too many questions and he had Gary's back. Knowing Gary's luck he'd get paired with one of those do-good officers if he lost another partner. Then he wouldn't be able to work for Pinky at all. No, he couldn't do it. There had to be another way to get Rachel, he just had to be smart about it.

  “Gary?” Mark said as he crossed the road. “You okay? You were just staring off at nothing.”

  “I'm good. You heading home?”

  “Eh, no.” Mark fidgeted with his hands. He always reminded Gary of his youngest son, squirming whenever he was trying to keep a secret.

  “Don't tell me we've been called back to the station. God damn, that's fucking out of order! We do eight hours on the beat and they don't even give us fucking time to take a piss.”

  “I'm not going down to the station. Listen, I'm not supposed to say anything, but I'm working with Special Forces this week.”

  There were moments in Gary's life when he felt the world kick him in the gut. The wind would suddenly be taken out of him in an unprovoked assault. This was one of those times. Special Forces was interested in his partner–his partner who had been working the streets for four measly years. His partner who could count the number of arrests he had ever made on his fingers alone. And where was Gary? Stuck walking the beat, edging closer and closer towards retirement without a senior officer pay-off. There was a conspiracy somewhere. The lingering pacifism was over. If he could have, he would have shot Mark dead and there would have been no regrets.

  “You can't tell anyone, okay? I didn't even get a chance to talk to Rachel. The agent just showed up at the flat and told me to get going. I don't think she has a clue what's going on.”

  This was it. Gary was growing hungry. He licked at his lips. “I'll talk to her if you like.”

  “Oh, would you, man? That would put my mind at rest.”

  “She at home?”

  “Yeah, I don't think she has a shift until the morning.”

  The images circling Gary's thoughts were mesmerising. He could picture Rachel on her knees. She would be sobbing so hard, bruises forming on her face. She'd tell him she was sorry for all those disgusted looks, she'd beg him to do her again and again and when he was done he'd hand her over to Pinky Morris, collect his reward and watch Mark's world fall apart.

  26

  The back door to Riva's was unlocked.

  Roxy slipped inside and headed for the basement. Nobody saw him. Riva was already there, chewing on a false nail impatiently. She was wearing more makeup than usual, more than she ever needed to. The thick layers of foundation were darker on her left cheek – a bruise. It wasn't like her to sport injuries like that.

  “Riva, you look as lovely as ever,” he lied. A part of him debated whether he should bring the bruise up.

  She raised her finger to stop him speaking. “We're going to cut to the chase, Roxy. I know you know what's going on. I know you're working with the Smith Brothers, and I know you have access to the girl.”

  Roxy smirked in amusement. Riva always was the sharp one in the Morris family; it was her business savvy that had kept Pinky afloat for all these years, after all.

  She sidled closer to him, tempting him with forbidden promises. Her fingers entwined around the empty button holes in his jacket. “I also know how much you want Donnie Boom.”

  * * *

  John got into the car and wiped the blood stains off his fist with a bacterial wipe. Fat Joe was unconscious, tied up, and wedged into his bathtub. He'd live, or rather he wouldn't die of his injuries. A sudden fatty clog in his arteries could
finish him off at any moment, but John wasn't prepared to take responsibility for anything like that.

  It was funny, Fat Joe was the money man because he could be trusted. He liked his food, his TV, and doing Sudoku in his underwear on the couch. There was no ambition, no threat, and no nasty habits that would give him sticky fingers. He was Pinky's perfect employee; at least he would be if he wasn't such an easy target. Unfortunately for Joe, his lack of anything but an enthusiasm for custard donuts had made him slow and weak. John had overpowered him in seconds and after cracking one rib, Joe was singing every tune on request.

  In fact, John got the impression that Joe wanted to talk. Maybe he only took the light beating to cover his back. Whatever the case it didn't matter. Now John knew where the money was. Fifty thousand, plus the takings from yesterday. If that didn't make Charlie happy nothing would.

  He started the car and went to pick up his brother.

  27

  An actual meal, with real meat and vegetables; it sounded amazing. Rachel had to admit it, she was getting stupidly excited about a night off, gorging herself on good food, without having to deal with Mark or work in the morning. So far the luxuries were far outweighing the danger in this new life with the Smith Brothers. For the first time, in as long as she could remember, she sprawled out on her bed and switched the TV on. There was nothing to do, nowhere to be. It almost felt like freedom.

  She had started to doze off when there was a knock at the door. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched. The knocking grew louder. She paused, knowing it could be anyone. Carefully she opened the door leaving it on the latch. Gary leant against the door.

  “Mark's not here,” she tried to tell him.

  He flashed his badge. “This is police business, open the door, please.”

  Her heart started to sink. He knew she was alone. That was why he was there. She had no choice; he had the authority to kick down the door and haul her into jail. She had to let him in. She took the door off the latch and fell back as he invaded the room, slamming the door shut with malice.

  “What do you want?”

  He looked her up and down, bile rose in the back of her throat. “I told you, police business.”

  “So what am I supposed to have done?” She folded her arms, hiding her unease. He just had to mention the word Reacher and she'd be done for.

  He was silent. He had nothing on her.

  “Get out!” She growled.

  He didn't move and he was blocking her only escape, but in the kitchen she had a knife. He anticipated her thinking. As she ran for it he caught her by the hair. She fell to her knees as he withdrew his own blade. The knife scraped the edge of her throat. Her breath hitched. She couldn't swallow. He tightened his grip on her hair.

  “You make a noise and I'll cut you,” he hissed.

  “Is this the only way you can get some, Gary, you have to take it by force because the girls don't think you're pretty enough?” She wasn't going down without a fight.

  He punched her. She fell onto the bed, blinking in stars.

  “You're not going to get away with this. I'll tell Mark.”

  “You won't tell him anything. You're never going to see that bastard again.”

  His hands were experienced. The knife was back at her throat. Without looking he unfastened her trousers, pushing them down to her thighs. How many times had he done this? Too many to be this skilled at it.

  “I'm going to hurt you so bad.”

  Rachel lifted her hand to strike him. He grabbed her, his bare palm squeezing her wrist. “I'm going to hurt you so bad,” she snarled back.

  He looked confused. His hand started to shake. He made to pull away, but she held him tightly. The knife reverberated against her throat. His body started to quake.

  “I'm going to hurt you so bad,” she said again.

  He couldn't fight it. His mouth choked on his cries. His hand twisted. The knife pointed towards his face.

  “I'm going to hurt you so bad!” She screamed.

  He cried out, but he could fight it. His arm flung up. He jammed the knife into his neck. Blood spurted like a fountain from the open wound, drenching her. He clenched the handle and tugged it across until the nerves were severed. He fell forward. His body twitched, fighting for life, but he was dying on top of her. She kicked him to the floor and pulled up her trousers.

  He was dead in seconds. She'd killed him. She'd killed a cop. There was blood over the bed. There was blood all over her. She reached for Roxy's phone and it slipped out of her hands. She tried to search for John's number and came up with nothing but a list of filthy nicknames she couldn't make any sense of.

  Her breath shortened. She'd killed a cop. There was no going back from this. Every police force in the country would be after her now.

  28

  How long had she been sitting there? The body was still warm. How long did they stay warm? She tried to remember from her study, but her head was in too much of a mess. She didn't hear John and Charlie arrive. Not until John jammed the door closed. Charlie was at her side. He held her head in his hands, he was talking to her, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She concentrated on the warmth that was growing around her face, grounding herself on the familiarity of him.

  “I killed a cop, Charlie,” she told him.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She frowned; what did that have to do with anything? “Not really. Charlie, he's a cop.”

  “Don't worry about that. Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “He's Mark's partner. I think he came here to rape me. He put a knife to my throat so I made him stab himself in the neck. Charlie, he's a cop!”

  John rifled through the body. He showed Charlie Gary's police badge and pulled out his phone. Then he stopped. Rachel paused too, listening to the sound out in the corridor. Someone was coming. If it was another cop they were done for. She backed away from the door, but there was nowhere to go. John did the opposite, taking his place alongside the entrance. He nodded at his brother. Charlie stayed by the body, the focal point to anyone entering. The handle started to move. Rachel held her breath as the latch released.

  Before he made it into the room John had an arm around the intruder's neck and a gun pressed into his spine. It all happened so quickly Rachel hadn't even seen John move.

  “I knew he'd miss me,” Roxy said, leaning back into John's stronghold as though this was nothing more than a playful hug. His smile dropped when he saw the mess. “Well, fuck me!”

  “Where the hell were you?” Charlie was angry. Angrier than Rachel thought he could ever be.

  His tone was enough to unsettle Roxy. Roxy held up the bags of food sheepishly.

  “He's one of Pinky's boys,” John said tossing the phone back onto the corpse. “Stupid bastard has Pinky Morris in his phonebook.”

  “What kind of moron does that?” Roxy said.

  “What kind of moron goes out for food when they were supposed to be keeping watch?” John snapped back.

  “Not now,” Charlie said. He brushed the blood soaked hair from Rachel's face. “We're going to need to get you cleaned up, okay?”

  Rachel nodded and allowed him to help her up.

  “You two deal with this.”

  Charlie led her into the shower room and closed the door behind them. It was a tight squeeze. He switched the shower on and waited for it to heat up. It didn't. Rachel looked at the water–she'd washed a lot of blood away this week.

  “It's going to have to be a cold wash,” he murmured to her. “Rach' did he…” Charlie took a deep breath. “Did he touch you?”

  “Only once, that was all I needed,” she whispered. “Charlie, what am I going to do? There's a dead cop in my flat. They're going to hunt me down.”

  He smiled and wiped the blood from her face. “Hey, I don't want to freak you out, but that was going to be the case anyway. You're a Reacher and you're throwing your lot in with me and Joh
n. We're going to be running for the rest of our lives, but it's okay because I've got your back, and John's got your back. It's going to be okay. We're going to look after you.”

  She grabbed him and held him tightly.

  “Not that I think you actually need our protection, you seem perfectly capable of looking after yourself. Get cleaned up. I'll go find you some clean clothes.”

  * * *

  It was nauseating just thinking about what could have happened to her. Only hours earlier he'd promised to protect her. But she didn't need protecting. Rachel wasn't weak, or vulnerable. She was strong. Stronger than he'd even realised. It was Reachers like her that the government was truly afraid of. And they had good reason to be. It had been a long time since Charlie had come across a Reacher who matched him in strength. This was the first time he'd found one that surpassed him.

  He closed the bathroom door. John was on his hands and knees pouring bleach onto the lino. The body was by the door. Some people were great at wrapping presents. John had a particular talent for wrapping bodies. It would be obvious what it was, but people walked bodies out of the tower daily. Why pay funeral costs when there's a perfectly good river you can dump your loved ones into? The main thing was nobody could tell who it was.

  “Is she okay?” Roxy asked. Every now and then he would screw up so badly he actually felt guilty. This was one of those times, and Charlie didn't feel inclined to go easy on him.

  “No thanks to you,” he said. “You were supposed to be looking after her.”

  “I'd say she did a pretty good job of looking after herself.”

  “That's not the point. You left her alone. Things might have gone differently. What if she hadn't been able to get close enough to him? Jesus, it's actually a godsend he tried to rape her. There would have been no way she'd have got the upper hand if he hadn't.”

  “I know. I'm sorry. All I wanted to do was get a good meal inside of her. Poor love hasn't eaten properly in so long. It was stupid, I know, I was showing off and I screwed up.”