"Should we get another car?" Reacher asked as he stepped out, looking at the packed SUV. Nigeli's Range Rover was a five-seater, and with five people crammed inside, space was tight.
"Says the guy sitting in the front seat," O'Donnell grumbled from the back.
"We'll figure it out when we get back to New York. The real issue is that these people came for you. That means everything linked to you might be compromised—including your families." Jack pointed out the real danger.
Scarface had been a professional hitman. His intel on Reacher's group was limited, but that didn't mean his employer's intel was just as basic.
Jack had even seen his own profile in the files. It didn't list his FBI identity, of course—Jubal had set up a fake PI cover for him. That file had been flagged, so anyone who tried to access it would be tracked.
Jack might have looked relaxed, running around Atlantic City punching thugs, but behind the scenes, his FBI Most Wanted Unit was hard at work.
Lucky Bar was true to its name. The sign was a green four-leaf clover.
Normally, clovers have three leaves, but finding one with four is considered a lucky omen. That's why they're called Lucky Clovers.
Reacher turned to size up O'Donnell and Dixon. "You two wait here. We'll go inside."
"Why?" O'Donnell frowned, checking himself for dirt, thinking the fight had messed up his appearance.
"You both look too much like cops."
Reacher was about to step forward, but Jack stopped him. "No. You stay too. Nigeli and I will handle this."
"You saying I look like a cop?" Reacher narrowed his eyes.
"I think what Jack means is that you don't look like a good guy." Nigeli grinned, taking the picture of Sanchez and the bartender from Reacher's hand.
Jack, ever the gentleman, held the door open for Nigeli.
Inside, the bar wasn't exactly bustling. It was only a little past 1 AM, but business was slow. Scattered patrons added up to maybe seven or eight in total.
Behind the counter, a Black bartender in a New York Giants jersey was idly wiping a glass. When he saw them approach, he flashed a welcoming smile. "What'll it be? We've got the best Sunday Brunch in the city."
Sunday Brunch wasn't actually food—it was a locally brewed New Jersey craft beer with a creamy, eggnog-like flavor.
"We're in no rush for that. We're looking for this girl." Nigeli placed the photo on the bar. "Was she working tonight?"
The bartender's expression immediately turned wary. "Who's asking? What do you want with her?"
"We're friends of Sanchez and Orozco." Jack sensed the shift in tension and was about to explain further—
But the bartender suddenly relaxed and waved over a bouncer.
"Hey, Dules! These two say they're friends of Sanchez. They wanna talk to Milena. Take them to the back—she's doing the books."
"Appreciate it," Nigeli said, surprised at how cooperative he was.
They followed the large man named Dules into a hallway behind the bar.
At that exact moment, a young waitress with a green apron emerged from the bathroom. It was Milena.
"Milena!" The bartender waved her over, pulling her phone and wallet from beneath the counter. "Take your stuff and get out of here!"
Jack and Nigeli, still in the hallway, had no idea what was happening. Before they could ask, two more large men appeared—one in front, one behind them.
"Something's not right," Nigeli muttered.
"Stop bothering our friend," Dules warned, his tone hostile.
Jack sighed, rubbing his temples. "Listen, man. I really don't want to fight anyone else tonight. You're making a mistake. We're not here to—"
WHAM!
Dules swung at Jack's face.
Smack! Smack! Jack caught Dules' right fist with his left hand and his left fist with his right, twisting them inward like a vice. "We really are Sanchez's friends," he said as the bouncer screamed in pain, nearly dropping to his knees.
"Don't touch me." Behind him, Nigeli had already engaged the other bouncer.
"Try not to hurt them," Jack advised before kicking open the bar's back door, shoving the still-screaming Dules outside.
This bar was struggling as it was—no need to completely wreck the place. The bouncers were just looking out for a friend. There had clearly been a misunderstanding.
"Okay, okay! We give up!" The second bouncer, now sporting a black eye, also stumbled outside, hands raised.
"Looks like someone got mistaken for the bad guys."
Reacher stood at the alley entrance, smugly holding onto Milena's arm. O'Donnell and Dixon stood behind him, looking exasperated.
—
"Sorry. If I'd seen you first, I wouldn't have run. Sanchez showed me your pictures. My friends were just trying to protect me."
Back inside, Milena kept apologizing, occasionally casting guilty glances at the two bruised bouncers.
The bartender served everyone beers, helping smooth things over. "Last week, some mean-looking bastard came asking about her. Said he used to work security with Sanchez and Orozco."
Jack pulled out a few $20 bills and set them on the tray. He smiled at the still-groaning bouncers. "Get these guys some top-shelf whiskey. Maybe alcohol will make them forget the pain."
"Did this guy have a scar on his face?"
"Yeah, that's him! He wanted to know if Sanchez had given me anything—like a USB drive."
Milena's voice turned worried. "I had no idea what he was talking about. As soon as he left, I called José (Sanchez), but he never picked up.
They'd both gone off the grid for work before, but this time… I had a bad feeling."
The group exchanged looks.
It hit them all at once—this girl still didn't know what had happened to Sanchez and Orozco.
Noticing their grim expressions, Milena tensed. "Do you know where they are?"
"Uh…" Nigeli hesitated, trying to find a gentle way to break the news.
Too late.
"They got thrown out of a helicopter," Reacher said bluntly.
"Reacher?!" Dixon snapped.
"Oh my God!" Milena froze. A second later, she burst into uncontrollable sobs.
Everyone turned to glare at Reacher.
Reacher shrugged. "What?"
______
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