The Unseen Enemy Series

Chapter 142

Chris slammed into Jim’s apartment. “I need a f*****g drink. And something to beat the hell out of.”

The three men looked up at him, looked at each other. Without a word, Jim got up and went to his kitchen. He poured out a shot of whiskey and handed it to Chris, who threw it back.

“Another one." Chris wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “And where’s that thing for me to punch?”

Dallas was already over in the far corner of the room, hanging Jim’s punching bag from the hook in the ceiling. Dean went to the closet and took out the boxing gloves, but Chris tossed back his second shot and waved the gloves away.

The guys watched silently as Chris laid into the bag with a ferocity that they knew he possessed, but which they hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since Tiegert had been killed, actually. After five minutes, Chris yanked off his sweaty t-shirt and returned to the bag.

Every muscle in his back and arms strained as he punched, kicked, punched again. The only sounds in the apartment were Chris’ hands and feet making contact with the leather and his harsh breathing.

Finally, exhausted, he held on to the bag. He gasped, panted, his head down. His hands were bruised and bloody, but he didn’t feel a thing. The other men sat and waited for him to turn around. They needed to see his eyes, to make sure that he was back.

“She told me what happened.” Chris still had his back to his friends, not wanting them to see his tears.

Jim got to his feet again and retrieved the whiskey bottle. He refilled Chris’ shot glass, then filled three more. Dean and Dallas took one each and the men went over to Chris. He took his drink without comment and they all threw them back together, then they shot a second one. That was when Chris finally turned around.

“You weren’t kidding, man,” he said to Dallas. “It was a f*****g nightmare for her.”

“I know,” Dallas said quietly.

“How can she trust me to do this? After what happened?” Chris said helplessly. “I can’t – it’s too much. It’s too big. I’ll f**k it all up, scare her. I just – what am I supposed to do?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing now,” Dean said gently.

Chris shook his head. “I’m not the right person for this… I should have said no. I’m going to have to pull out of this.”

“Like hell you will,” Jim said, his golden eyes narrowing. “Now you know what happened, what she was working against when she looked at you and decided to trust you, to open up to you. If you back out now, I’ll beat the living s**t out of you myself, man, I swear to Christ. You are not going to leave her out there alone and vulnerable. You promised to have her back. You see this through.”

Chris flexed his hands and winced.

“Starting to feel that now, huh?” Dallas asked.

“Yeah.”

Jim went back to the kitchen and took an ice pack from the freezer. He tossed it over to Chris, who set it against his knuckles with a sigh. “Dammit. Work’s gonna be hell next week.”

“Come on, man. Sit.” Dean steered him over to the closest chair. “Talk to us.”

Chris collapsed into the chair. “I want to know something.” He looked at Dallas. “You told us that you checked into Jenny, found out what happened to her six years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are the four fuckers who raped and beat her for two days up in that cabin?”

“They what?” Dean asked, his green eyes cold.

“Yeah. Four guys. Two days. They took turns so it never stopped, not that whole time. And she was tied up and blindfolded, so the whole thing happened for her in complete and total darkness.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jim looked nauseated.

“You want to punch the bag?” Chris asked, as some of his humor resurfaced. “It helps a little.”

“So does whiskey.” Jim poured out another round and they all drank. They watched Chris relax a bit, settle deeper into the chair.

“So.” Chris wiped his face on his t-shirt, switched the ice pack to his other hand. “Where are these fuckers?”

“Three of them are dead,” Dallas said. “The last one’s in prison for murder. He’ll be there for another fifteen years, at least.”

“Damn.” Chris sighed. “I guess that’s something.”

“Yeah.”

The four men sat in silence for a few seconds, not making eye contact. They were trying hard to stay on top of their anger, and they knew that if they saw even a spark of it in each other, they’d lose it. Best to pull back and shut down for a few minutes, regain control of the situation, then make contact anew. Regroup and re-engage.