Chapter TWENTY-SIX
“DO YOU want another beer?”
“Sure,” Mitch replied, leaning forward and taking the cold bottle from Rocky.
Rocky dropped in the chair opposite and studied Mitch closely.
Mitch drank from the bottle and focused on maintaining a casual posture. He glanced around Rocky’s living room, with its evidence of last night’s partying, then through the floor-to-ceiling window to the garden outside. It was a spectacular Sydney summer day, and the backyard and pool looked like a resort: the sparkling blue of the pool, the brilliant unbroken azure of the sky, and the deep green of the lawn and hedges all contrasted with the cream travertine paving. Inside was a different story, with the chill of the air-conditioning, the debris of empty bottles, and tension in the air.
Mitch finally turned his attention back to Rocky in front of him. Rocky stared, unblinking, arms folded across his broad chest. What the fuck is he thinking? Mitch gulped at his beer again.
“Shame about Peter,” Rocky finally said.
“Uh-huh.” Mitch swallowed the mouthful of beer, along with the pang of regret that hit hard. Just the thought of Pete lying in a hospital bed, waiting to see if he’d survive a brain injury, was horrific. “Have you heard anything about how he’s doing?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.
Rocky shook his head. “It’s hard to get any info from the damn hospital. They do every fucking thing by the bloody book. Stack went over there earlier today but didn’t want to make a scene. Regardless, it doesn’t look like Peter will be up and around anytime soon. Puts a fucking spanner in the works.” It was clear Rocky’s care factor was nonexistent, at least where Pete was concerned.
“Where is Stack?”
“He’ll be here soon.” Rocky took a cigarette from the deck on the table and held out the pack to Mitch.
The first drag was bliss, sending a hit of nicotine through his bloodstream. No guilt this time; he needed that goddamn cigarette.
Rocky snapped the lighter shut. “You did good the other night.”
“Yeah?”
“Dealing with the cops, taking the shit. Things could have gone to fuck, but they didn’t. I appreciate it, man.”
Mitch inhaled another lungful of smoke, holding it before letting it out in a long, thin stream. He already felt a lot calmer, more in control. “Didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done. Didn’t want to fuck up the operation and bring down any more heat on the Soldiers than there already is.”
“Like I said, you did good. Stepped up.” Rocky rested his cigarette in the ashtray and folded his arms again. He leaned across the table, his gaze piercing. “We look after our own too, Mitch, and you’re proving yourself to be a real asset. If things had gone pear-shaped, if the cops had found the gear you took from Pete, you could have been in real trouble, but if they found the stuff in Pete’s car, then things would have gotten really ugly. Bad for you, for Pete, for all of us.”
Mitch kept a neutral expression, as he knew the cops had waited until they weren’t being observed, then searched the car and rifled through the drug paraphernalia in the ute. They’d found a quantity of heroin that definitely indicated distribution and not personal use. They took an inventory but left things where they were—there were bigger fish to fry, and they’d all be brought to justice soon enough.
“What impact does Pete being out of the picture have on the deal?” Mitch introduced the topic as casually as he could.
“We’re a man short. But I have a solution.”
Mitch took a last drag of the cigarette and stubbed it into the ashtray. “What have you got in mind?”
“I had a talk with Stack, and we agreed that you’ve proven yourself, and we could trust you to step in.”
“Hell yeah!” Mitch didn’t have to feign his excitement. This was just what he’d been waiting for.
Rocky raised a brow. “You don’t know what we want you to do yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. I just want another chance to prove myself to you, to show my allegiance. This’ll get me closer to full club membership, right?”
Rocky chuckled. “Let’s see how things go first. But it’s good to see you’re keen. And you’ve got more guts than that piss-weak brother of mine. Although maybe I should get him to come along. Getting his hands dirty might be just the thing to toughen him up.”
The thought of Finn intercepting the shipment, handling the drugs, and putting himself in the direct line of the police sting gave Mitch the cold shivers. Much better that Finn stayed in the office dealing with the books, because God only knew what could go down at that warehouse.
“Well, I’m glad you’re leaving him out of this because it’s my chance—”
“Ah, about time,” Rocky said as Stack entered the room, the sliding door slamming behind him. He dropped his large frame into a chair and greeted Mitch with a grunt and a nod.
“Stack.” Mitch nodded back.
“So time to go over the plans.” Rocky smiled wide. “It’s nearly showtime.”
Thank fucking Christ; this can’t be over soon enough.
FINN FELT awful about the argument with Mitch. He knew Mitch didn’t have much choice other than to follow Rocky’s orders, and it still pissed him off, but he knew Mitch cared about Pete. After Mitch finished his meeting with Rocky and collected Finn from the office, he was insistent they stop by the hospital to see if there had been any change in Pete’s condition.
The smell of the hospital was unavoidable. The distinctive mix of antiseptic and cleaning products—at least that’s what Finn assumed it was—assaulted his nostrils and stirred the memories of his previous visits. But instead of the overwhelming sense of sadness and the compelling urge to get out of the building as quickly as he could that he experienced the previous night, Finn felt more in control. Just knowing Mitch was at his side was reassuring.
Their boots sounded loudly on the worn linoleum, but, as if sharing the same thought, they slowed and stepped more carefully as they approached the third-floor waiting room the hospital receptionist downstairs had directed them to. They stopped at the threshold, and Mitch stiffened beside him.
“Mitch?” The woman who rose from the chair was small, her voice quiet and tentative. “Mitch?”
She looked uncertain for a moment as she stood across the room and stared at Mitch as if he were an apparition that would disappear at any moment. When he finally moved into the room, her eyes lit up in happiness, momentarily losing that sad, hollow look. When she smiled, she was transformed, looking years younger than only seconds before. She took a step forward, and then another. When she reached Mitch, she wrapped her arms around him, and Mitch pulled her into a hug. The top of her brown curly hair only came up to his chin, and Mitch looked over her head at Finn while he held the woman and gently patted her shoulder. She eventually pulled away and tilted her tear-stained face to Mitch, who met her gaze.
Her voice quavered as she spoke. “Oh my gosh, it really is you. It’s so lovely to see you, sweetheart. It’s been so long.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Judith.” Mitch’s voice was gruff. “I only wish it was under better circumstances. How is he? Has there been any change since we last spoke?”
She dabbed a handkerchief against her cheek and slowly shook her head. “There hasn’t been any change since last night.”
“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Mitch asked.
“I think so. The doctors haven’t been providing much information. But I think it’s because there isn’t a lot they can tell us. It’s very much a waiting game. But you’re right, it is good that he hasn’t deteriorated. It could be a lot worse.”
“I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this.”
“I know you are, sweetheart.” She raised a hand to the side of Mitch’s face. “You’re looking as handsome as ever. I guess life is treating you well? Peter doesn’t tell me much about what you’re up to. Are you doing okay? How are things at work? Are you staying safe?”
Mitch flicked his gaze to Finn’s. “Work is going great, thanks, Judith. In fact, let me introduce you to one of my colleagues. I work with Finn at the bike shop.”
Judith Crowley looked to Finn as she finally noticed him at the doorway. “The bike shop?”
“Yeah. Come in, Finn.” Mitch beckoned him into the room.
Finn held out his hand to the woman as he approached. “Hi. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Crowley. I’m Finn Cummings. I work with Peter and Mitch. I’m so sorry about what happened to Pete.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes welled up and she raised the handkerchief again. “You know my son?”
“I do. Pete and I met a few months ago when he was in Melbourne. He works for my family’s business—Cummings Motorcycles.”
“Oh, I see.” She looked back at Mitch, her brow furrowed. “And you work there too? That’s a bit of a change.”
Mitch nodded. “I do. Pete got me the job at the beginning of the year. It’s been great. The job’s good, and it was nice to reconnect with Pete again. Where’s Larry?”
“He’s ducked down to the café to get sandwiches and bring back coffee.”
“Perhaps you both should take a break and head out for some fresh air. Or maybe you and Larry could sit and enjoy your coffee in the coffee shop? Finn and I would be happy to wait here for news and can call you if the doctors come or there’s any change.”
“Oh, thank you, sweetheart, but I couldn’t possibly. I can’t leave until I’m 100 percent certain Peter’s going to be okay.” She looked between Mitch and Finn. “The police said it was a hit-and-run. Do you know anything about it?”
Mitch glanced at Finn. “Err… yeah. Finn and I were there.”
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Mitch took Mrs. Crowley by the hand and led her back to the seat where she’d been sitting. She sat and picked up her handbag from the floor, rummaging inside for a clean handkerchief before balancing the bag on her lap. She looked expectantly between Mitch and Finn. Mitch took a seat in the chair adjacent to her, and Finn sat in the next chair along.
He took a deep breath before beginning the story. “I was in the car with Pete heading out for a few drinks after work. We were parking outside the pub, and Pete had just got out of the car when another car sped past and hit him.” He didn’t want to go into any further detail. Pete’s mum didn’t need to know the horror of seeing Pete lying broken on the bitumen in an ever-increasing pool of his own blood.
Mitch leaned across and placed a hand on Mrs. Crowley’s knee. “Finn stopped the bleeding until the ambulance arrived, then traveled to the hospital with Pete.”
She grasped the handles of her bag so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Thank you, Finn. So you’re friends with Peter, then? More than just workmates?”
Finn nodded, but he wished he’d been a better friend, had tried harder to help Pete. “We’ve gotten to be friends since he stayed with me in Melbourne.”
“My boy didn’t mention you. Or maybe he did, but only in passing. Peter has been… distant lately, not spending much time with his father and me, not talking much. We don’t know what goes on in his life anymore. We’ve been so worried about him.” She lowered her voice. “The drugs, the dangerous situations he’s putting himself in….”
Her voice trailed away as the tears rose again.
Finn felt a need to reassure her. “We can only pray Pete’s going to recover, but you need to know that he’s a good man, Mrs. Crowley. He’s doing some things that would make you really proud.”
He caught Mitch’s eye and could sense Mitch’s confusion. There was so much he wished he could talk to Mitch about: how Pete felt a sense of hopelessness for his own situation and how he wanted to make amends. Finn wanted to tell Mitch exactly how Pete was trying to make things right.
Finn had a sudden memory of the afternoon when Pete told him to go to Mitch if anything happened to Pete, that Mitch could be trusted. And Finn’s gut told him that was true—Mitch could be trusted. A weight had been lifted. He smiled at Mitch as he resolved to talk to him later.
He met Mrs. Crowley’s eyes again. “But he’s going to be fine. He’ll come through this okay, and then he’ll be able to tell you himself.”
“I do hope so. But thank you for saying what you did about Pete. I’ve been so worried about him.” She looked to the door. “Oh, there you are, love. Look who’s here.”
Finn turned as an older gentleman entered the room. It wasn’t hard to see where Pete got his good looks from—the man looked like an older and healthier version of his friend, but at that moment, Pete’s father looked devastated. Slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, evidence he’d been crying. Waiting for news of their son was obviously taking a lot out of both Pete’s parents. Mr. Crowley put the cardboard tray he was carrying on a small table. He stood uncertainly until Mitch rose, holding out his arms and pulling him into a hug. They gave each other a healthy back slap, but the hug obviously held a lot of emotion and indicated a once-close relationship between the two men.
Mr. Crowley pulled back but didn’t let go of Mitch, holding him by the upper arms and smiling at him. “It’s good to see you, son. Thank you so much for being here. It means a lot.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve missed you being around.”
“I wish it was under better circumstances, Larry. I’ve missed hanging with you guys, too, and Mrs. C’s cooking, of course.” Mitch’s comment seemed to lighten the mood, and Mrs. Crowley smiled a genuine smile for the first time since they entered the room. Mr. Crowley released Mitch and moved to his wife’s side, sitting beside her and placing an arm around her shoulders. Mitch retrieved the drinks and sandwiches Mr. Crowley appeared to have forgotten, and passed a cup to each of them.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Mrs. Crowley smiled at Mitch. She placed a hand on Mitch’s knee when he sat back down, the three of them leaning close.
Finn felt slightly uncomfortable as he watched them together, as if he were intruding on a private moment. They shared memories, obviously reminiscing about happier times, times when Mitch and Pete were together. Mitch met his gaze every now and then, giving him a reassuring smile, perhaps trying to let him know he wasn’t excluded.
With each story, every remembered good time spent celebrating a special occasion, each mention of the past, Finn’s chest tightened. At first he thought it was jealousy, being envious of the close bond Mitch shared with these people. He’d never known such closeness and wondered what it would be like to have a history that was more than loneliness and fear. Perhaps it was the reminder of the time Pete and Mitch had spent together, but the more he listened, the longer he watched Mitch comfort Mr. and Mrs. Crowley, he realized it wasn’t jealousy at all. The strange feeling in his chest, the thickness in his throat, the pricking behind his eyes, was a mixture of pride and admiration at the way Mitch was helping the couple and keeping an eye on Finn, all while dealing with his own emotional state.
More and more he was starting to realize Mitch was one of the good guys. Isn’t he? He had to be because Finn didn’t think his heart was up to falling for one of the bad guys and then being broken when everything went to shit. Because it would. Things were in motion that would bring everything in Finn’s world crashing down.