Their Obsession (Four Mercenaries 2)

The yard beyond the fence was as barren as it had always been, though he supposed the bicycle resting against the wall was new. Must have been Ren’s.

When Tank whispered to Clover to stay where he was, Clover didn’t protest. This wasn’t an argument in Jolene’s guestroom anymore. Here, a mistake could mean life or death. Clover needed the experience, but he hardly expected he’d start out by going in guns blazing. For now, he was happy to observe and get involved in whatever capacity the guys allowed.

Drake gestured for them to stay quiet and took the key from Clover. In the bright sun the single dried-out palm tree above couldn’t protect them from, he looked like a messenger of death who’d lost his way, but he didn’t hesitate and opened the door without much care for noise.

“Ren? Christ, how long can a man wait for his fucking breakfast? Where have you been?”

Jerry’s voice sank its claws into Clover right away, sending him back, straight into Tank’s waiting arms. He didn’t expect the onslaught of emotion that hit him so suddenly, but was glad for the silent support. Maybe by the end of this day, he’d forgive Tank for what he’d tried to do in the morning.

Jerry spoke again. “The f—”

What followed was swift. A short onslaught of thuds, something breaking, a grunt, a scream cut off mid-way. Clover flinched, even though there was no love lost between him and Jerry.

“Done!” Drake announced.

Boar and Pyro marched right in, but Tank didn’t let go of Clover, and gently kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to go inside.”

For once, his protectiveness didn’t anger Clover. He appreciated it and stood on his toes to kiss Tank’s lips. “Thank you.”

But despite the unease boiling inside his chest, Clover followed the others, ready to confront Jerry, the man who’d sold him as if he were less than human.

Chapter 8 – Clover

Jerry wasn’t the type of guy who’d ever seemed vulnerable. While not the tallest or muscular man around, he had the kind of charisma that gave him contacts and drew people in. Most of those people didn’t exit whatever relationship they had with Jerry at an advantage. But not Clover.

Clover had come back for Jerry with four walls of muscle, but it was still surreal to see him strapped to his favorite IKEA chair and with blood running from his nose. The house itself was eerily normal. The old sofa was where it had always been, in front of the same TV, which just moments ago had been showing a baseball game. Even the scent hadn’t changed, and its source, the cold remains of yesterday’s Hawaiian pizza, lay on the coffee table surrounded by Coke Zero cans. Even the white sheets hung in windows instead of curtains were still there.

It was as if Clover had never left.

“You know why we’re here,” Drake said, because despite knowing Jerry for years, Clover somehow couldn’t find his voice.

Jerry growled. “Stop talking like a TV villain and tell me what you want.”

Drake looked back, a smirk pulling at his lips. “He called me a TV villain. Can you believe this shit? This guy really doesn’t like his shlong where it is.”

Jerry must have re-evaluated his attitude because he shut up, his gaze darting between all of them, as if he were searching for the weak link.

He chose Clover. Of course.

“Clo, I know we didn’t part on good terms, but we can get past it.”

Clover frowned and stepped forward, propelled by insatiable anger. He’d imagined this kind of situation many times in his revenge fantasies. Coming to Jerry’s house guns blazing, and then setting it on fire, walking off in slo-mo with it burning behind him. Reality was much less glamorous. It was cold fast food, stains on the carpet, and Jerry still intent on using him.

“Get past you selling me so that I disappeared into nothingness? Do you even know who you were selling me to?”

“Of course not! There were middle men, and the ones I knew are dead now anyway. Let’s work something out and let bygones be bygones, huh?”

“You recently got a message from a man named Pete,” Tank said, and Jerry might as well have turned into a statue. Completely motionless, he stared at him with his mouth agape. He’d caught himself after a second, but the proof was in his reaction.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Let me jog your memory,” Pyro said and tapped the screen of his phone before showing it to Jerry. Clover didn’t want to know how gory Pyro’s picture of Pete was, but it made Jerry paler.

Clover could see Jerry’s brain working overtime to slip out of this one, and he was shocked at how much he enjoyed the power trip it gave him. For once, Clover wasn’t under his thumb. He was here, with strong, proficient men who cared for him. He wasn’t a no one Jerry could disappear.