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Then it hits me. Any one of these men might come to an abrupt end in the next couple of hours. Fuck. They could die. Today. Not maybe. We’re literally walking into a situation, willingly, where our lives could just… end. My body starts to shake, my breathing jitters and judders. My eyes fill with burning tears, but I blink them back. I chew on my nails instead of chattering my teeth.

For all Nik’s carried me through, I am not making him carry my feelings right now. For the very little I understand, I finally understand how that would be absolute bullshit. So I hold myself together. Not because I don’t deserve holding, I think I’ve realised that I do. But I’ve also realised that they’ve held me enough. They’ve put up with my moody arse bullshit, whilst they were carrying this. They knew this was coming. And there I was being a fucking brat about sleeping arrangements.

Shame flushes over me, and is quickly overtaken with a determination through the uncertainty. I shuttle over and sit next to Nik, who watches me with his eyes, without moving his head. I take his hand in mine and plant a kiss on the back of it. Our eyes meet, and the intensity burns between us for a few seconds.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in, and places a gentle, lingering kiss on top of my head.

“We’re gonna be okay, kid,” he tells me. He can’t possibly know that. But fuck am I thankful he said it. His determination is reassuring. I notice the subtle difference, I’m sure he’s never called me “kid” before. Not long ago I’d have felt enraged by the infantilisation. For the first time I realise just how much his junior I am in this world.

“Five minutes,” Ghost calls to us in the back. Nik distances himself, just a little, we’re still sat arm to arm, but he’s back to tapping each finger in turn against his thumb. Rotating his head and his neck. Lost in some kind of ritual, Reaper looks the same with all his little stretches and stuff.

I don’t have a ritual. I just breathe in as deep as I can, and then purse my lips and blow out as far as I can and try to keep my breathing under control. It’s not perfect, it works a bit, but it’s all I’ve got.

Six hundred painful seconds later the van pulls to a gentle stop, or at least I’m not lunged sideways towards the front because Nik is like a giant seatbelt that I push against instead.

“Game time.” Nik’s voice has a certainty in it, a cold calm that is equal parts terrifying and reassuring. He nods to Reaper, and they make their way to the rear door.

Thirty Four

Sawyer

After a few seconds, Ghost opens the doors of the van. A couple of bikes sit parked on the road outside the strip club, bikers casually stood chatting next to them. Actually there are bikers scattered in ones and twos everywhere. Ghost leans on the van after closing the door behind us.

The signs on the building are all turned off, providing no illumination and serving as a big sign telling people to “fuck off”, Reaper swings the door outwards, and Nik leads us in. Him first, then me, then Reaper. This place is damn eerie with nobody in it, stinking like cheap whisky and even cheaper perfume.

Through the dusty musk, Reaper walks ahead and I watch as he searches Harry and Craig in turn. They lift their arms and he pats them down very thoroughly, he isn’t rough with them, but he’s clearly not taking chances. A burly bald-headed man does the same to Nik and then me, full frisk. He’s a bit fucking handsy, it’s almost violating if Nik weren’t stood there reassuring me with his presence, proximity, and fucking hawk eyes.

I watch Harry, the man who tried to have me murdered a few days ago, straighten his suit jacket and walk to the table that’s been laid for us. Reaper and Baldy take up stools at the bar, sat next to one another, cautious and untrusting. Nik looks at me, and leads the way, pulling out my chair before taking his own.

Nik and I one side, Craig and Harry the other. It’s incredibly awkward. Nik tortured that dude, the other one tried to kill me. Craig probably betrayed us. And now we’re all just sat in some kind of weird mafia-showdown like we’re all friends? What the fuck.

Harry and Nik sit with their forearms on the table, their fingers interlocked, whilst Craig and I sit leaning back slightly. Not relaxed by any means, but just that bit further away from the conversation. I get the distinct impression that he’s as terrified and nervous as I am. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and watches the pair of them intently.

Taking the initiative and seemingly trying to assert some kind of authority or control over this whole weird little dinner date, Harry starts, looking to me

“Firstly, let me just deeply apologise. I’ve known you such a long time, Sawyer, it wasn’t personal, just business. It was looking a lot like you pair might grass us up, and we couldn’t take that chance”

I swallow hard, I know saying the wrong thing right now could make everything so much worse, so I just grit my teeth and smile. Swallowing my rage, indignation, and frustration. Absolutely no way did he think I was going to grass, not in a million years. He was trying to send a message to Nik and everyone round this table knows it.

“Nik, that whole situation with Dmitri is not how it looks. I had no idea it was going to go that way and I certainly hadn’t planned for you getting shot. You’re my heaviest hitter, you’ve made a lot of my problems disappear over the years that’s not how I do business” he carries on, I can’t tell if he’s giving Nik some kind of no-face-lost way out, or he’s blagging and bullshitting or what he’s doing. I listen intently, and watch Nik’s face. Poker face, stone cold, I can’t even read him. He continues his delusional monologue. “This business with the MC, and Dmitri and the Turks, it’s bad for all of us. It’s a lot of money to lose on a misunderstanding… I’m willing to forgive your transgressions, but there needs to be some compensation for the three bodies you’ve created that I’ve had to clean up, that’s going to be expensive”

He stops and sucks his teeth, I guess it’s Nik’s turn to talk now. He takes a deep breath, strokes his beard and contemplates his words carefully.

“You know, Harry, I’ve worked for you a long time. Got my hands dirty and kept yours clean. I’ve got decent intel that you knew exactly what was going to go down. You’re only at the table with me now because I made it expensive, and expensive is bad for business. A simple transaction turned into double murder, and me laying on a very conveniently located operating table… that doesn’t feel like the setup for a normal hand-over… especially when you got stuck into the security arrangements… so forgive me if I find your version of events, unconvincing…”. I’ve never been at a sit-down before, but I’ve watched Prime Minister’s Questions, and this feels very white-collar confrontational. Like a chess match in the chat.

“Now, now, Nik. You know I like to take precautions…” Harry starts, but Nik interrupts him, much to the discomfort of everyone watching

“You said it wasn’t personal. Shooting at a noncombatant, a fucking civilian, that’s personal. There’s rules to the game here, Harry, you know that…”

Now Harry seizes his opportunity to interrupt on that one, very quietly

“Speaking of personally, it doesn’t look like it took you two very long to get personal, did it?” he tuts at the pair of us, and I flush with shame, and pray to whoever I’m supposed to pray to that Nik doesn’t flare up again. Dread, shame, and sheer terror freeze my veins and stop my heart dead.

“But, recent developments notwithstanding; I did bring you a gift…” he continues, turning to me “…you know I’ve always been loyal and looked after my people. I thought a reunion would be in order”

It’s like the air is stomped out of my stomach when I see, from the shadows in the corner, Dan stand and limp his way pitifully towards us. I have too many emotions. He’s out of jail? He’s alive? The more he invades the light, the better picture I get of him. One eye swollen shut and stitches close a gash on his face. His limp isn’t a limp, he’s hobbling on crutches. I’ve never seen him like this, wincing with every step. There’s nothing I can do to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks.

Nik’s hand on my lap steadies me. Otherwise I might have run to him. I hate him, but I hate seeing him like this. And I loved him for such a long time.