By A Thread- Jamie's POV in Montana

Jamie had turned his phone on when the plane landed and saw several texts from the brothers. He made a beeline to his car. Making sure no one was following him, he tore out of the parking lot. He pulled over and waiting for Stella to pass in her rental car. She looked the same as she did in his dreams, except in his dreams she smiled when she saw him. Her face was harder now, but other than that it could’ve been the last night together. Rage that he’d tamped down over the years threatened to come up, but he swallowed it.

She passed him in a big SUV. He pulled out and followed her to the Best Western on the lake. He watched her check in and walk passed the front desk into the hotel. Pulling down his hoodie he entered the hotel and went up the clerk.

“Hey, my wife just checked in.” He smiled.

The clerk looked at him with question.

“Stella Murphy? She was here like 5 minutes ago. My phone died and I don’t know our room number.” He showed the clerk his phone he’d turned off.

“Of course.” The clerk looked down and told him her room number. He made his way to her room. He stood outside for at least ten minutes trying to figure out what he would say to her. What words could be used to repair the damage that he’d done? He took a deep breath and knocked.

After a minute the door opened with the latch on it. Her green eye speared him. “No,” was all she said.

“Stella, wait.” I’m sorry. I love you. He couldn’t get the words out. She shut the door on him. “I need to talk to you,” his voice broke with an emotion he hadn’t felt in four fucking years.

The door opened again. “I don’t give a fuck what you need,” she said, the rage evident in her voice and the door slammed in his face again. I’m sorry.

He took a different exit so he wouldn’t have to go back by the front desk again. He got in his car and drove south on 93. He pulled into a gas station 100 miles south of his apartment. He went into the store and bought snacks, a six-pack and asked for a bag. Once back in his car he opened a beer and called Phil. He threw the bag with the name of the gas station on the floor of his car.

“What’s up?” Jamie asked into the phone.

“Where you at?” Phil was the oldest brother that ran the operation he’d been investigating for the last four years.

“Um, about 100 miles south, I had to get gas.”

“We need you here now. There’s some shit going down.”

♥

When he got to Phil’s barn, where some of the drugs and guns were kept. Monte, one of the bigger guys, grabbed him and forced him to sit down. His wrists were tied and he was tied to the fucking chair. He knew this was a possibility when he went to DC. Now he’d just have to deal with it. Death would be welcome at this point, he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Just then Phil entered the barn. “Jack, you have a good time in Alabama?”

“No. My sister was in the hospital. Nothing fun about it.” He lied easily.

“So there is an FBI office that just popped up in your absence.” Phil pulled a knife out of the back of his pants.

Fear exploded out of every pour of his body. “Why?” He asked.

“I was wondering if you could tell me?” Phil walked over to a table across the barn.

Jamie shook his head. “No.” They stared at each other for what seemed like an hour.

“Phil!” Craig, the number two in command, came walking into the barn. “Seems like Jack has been driving back from Alabama today.” He held up the bag from the gas station for Phil to see.

Phil’s mouth turned into a grin. “Fuck. That’s good I didn’t want to have to kill you Jack.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Jamie asked.

“FBI is looking into our little operation, we were hoping you weren’t why.”

“Why would you think I was the reason?”

“Well, you conveniently disappeared when all this was going down and someone said they thought they saw your car at the Best Western, which would be where the agents are staying.” Phil slowly put his knife in his pants.

Sweat puddled at Jamie’s lower back. Everyone starting talking at the same time and Jamie had to remind himself to be Jack.

“Can someone fucking untie me?” Jamie said defiantly. “And tell me about this fucking FBI shit.”

Monte lumbered over and untied him. They came up with a plan to be at the FBI office early Monday and do a little snooping, then bomb the entire office Tuesday morning. Jamie listened with detached interest. He couldn’t be concerned about this, this is what he was warning them about, but they didn’t listen to him. All he could do is try to control what he could, from the inside. Then maybe he’d steal the fifty grand that was hidden beneath pallets in the back of the barn and get the fuck out.