Ch. 17: Same reason, different men

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He was an ass.

A dumb, immature ass.

Gareth swirled the whiskey in his glass while aimlessly looking at the surrounding people, 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 got angry or excited.

He had acted like a proper douche with her. That much he knew. She had just pissed him off.

Ok, Mackenzie had hurt him a lot.

All his life, Gareth had known he would never be normal and would never lead a normal life. Throughout his life, he had done so many things others only saw in movies and barely could imagine being a 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 too. 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 had taken over after his grandfather. 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. The old regime, where things like that were acceptable, had died with his grandfather.

Whenever possible, he sent in undercover people to buy up the women and men on sale to set them free with money for a new life somewhere else. He spent a fortune on bringing down sex trafficking rings and helping innocent men and women. That was how strongly he felt about the subject. He had teams across the globe dedicated to only doing that, funded solely by him to operate on behalf of the victims who fell prey to sex slave trading. 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 his unyielding stance on that kind of behavior.

He had not heard from her in three days, and he had not contacted her either. Gareth had written countless messages and deleted them again. He had stared 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 the situation. He would grovel if she kept him waiting much longer. Because he was going out of his mind from waiting. Saying sorry would hurt his pride, though not as much as he hurt by not knowing how she was and not seeing her. To not be sure if he even had her friendship anymore, rode him like a nightmare.

The whiskey gave a smooth burn going down his throat. Whiskey was his go-to remedy. Sanity in a bottle.

Not topsy-turvy at all.

Gareth grabbed the bottle to pour himself another drink when his phone buzzed, stopping 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, and he should be home from work shortly. Want the address?"

Driving would not be wise since he had been marinated in whiskey for three days. Even if he did not feel drunk, he knew a breath test from the police would say differently. "Grab a car and come get me. I'm at The Tea House."

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