Draft version - Russian Roulette - Family secrets

Ch. 50: Sweetheart, whose car is that out front?

He was being an ass.

A dumb, immature ass.

Gareth swirled the whiskey in his glass while aimlessly looking at the people around him trying to focus on anything that would catch his attention for just a moment.

All he saw was her sad and confused eyes no matter where he looked. Those wonderful brown eyes which turned almost black when she was angry or excited.

He had acted like a proper douche with her, he knew, she had just pissed him off.

Ok, she had hurt him a lot.

All his life he had known he would never be normal; he would never lead a normal life. He had done so many things others only saw in movies and barely could imagine being reality for somebody, he was not one of the good guys. He could accept that about himself. But he had morals, he had a code of conduct and though it pained him to admit he had feelings, Mackenzie being one of the few who could hurt them.

It had taken him years to eradicate the exploitation of women in his organization after he took over. Taken a lot of blood and sweat, mainly blood, to make sure he had no affiliation with profiting from prostitution or sex trafficking in any of the cities he held.

Sometimes he had sent in people to buy up the women on sale to set them free with money for a new life somewhere else, that was how strongly he felt about it. And for Mackenzie to accuse him of trapping her for sex and questioning if he would harm her made him absolutely off the rails fucking furious.

She knew how strongly he felt about that subject.

He had not heard from her in three days and he had made no attempt at contacting her. He had written countless messages and deleted them again. He had looked at the call button on his phone for hours trying to will himself to call her, but this time he was not the one who needed to say sorry.

Gareth sighed.

He might as well come to terms with it, he was going to grovel if she kept him waiting much longer. He was going out of his mind. Saying sorry would hurt his pride, though not as much as he was being hurt by not knowing how she was, not seeing her. Not being sure if he even had her friendship anymore.

The whiskey gave a smooth burn going down his throat. Whiskey had been his go to remedy. Liquid sanity in a bottle. Not topsy turvy at all.

He was about to pour himself another when his phone buzzed him from going down a road he should not.

"Jace?" he barked.
"And hello sunshine, top of the morning to ya."

Rolling his eyes Gareth smiled at Jace's typical behavior.

"It's evening, Jace. What up?"
"The number you gave Horse. That Fabian guy. We tracked him down, he should be home from work shortly. Want the address?"
"Grab a car and come get me, I'm at The Tea House."
"Will do. And boss, get a cup of coffee."

Jace did not wait for a reply he had cut the call after his less than subtle suggestion.

"Dieter," Gareth addressed the bartender. "Coffee, strong and black, please."
"Coming right up," he smiled at his boss and discreetly took the whiskey bottle from the counter. They all knew Gareth had been distracted lately, not all knew why, but it affected them. "There's a change of clothes upstairs. Coffee will be done when you get back down."

With an appreciative nod Gareth went upstairs, took a shower, got shaved and went back to being who he always was. At least on the outside. And as promised the coffee was ready when he got back downstairs. He was not drunk, he was tired and somewhat depressed but not drunk.