His Mission novel Chapter 2

4pm. The Arm's Pub. Leave Jake at home or else I won't tell you anything.

I read the text repeatedly, my eyes straining from not blinking. The words begin to blur on the screen and I sigh, leaning back against the wall. The time reads 3:58 and I'm stood outside The Arm's Pub, already regretting my decision.

"It's not too late to turn back." I mutter under my breath, closing my eyes for a brief moment. How else can I get the answers I so badly crave? This is my life and my identity that Jones is playing with. I need the answers and he's the only person that is willing to give them to me.

I agreed to meet him at a public place however it came with one condition. . . he chose the location. Gangs of hooded figures litter the street corners, looking dangerous and intimidating. Town folk tend to avoid this area like the plague.

Loud drunken shouts can be heard coming from behind the glass doors, aggressive and booze filled. The win- dows that once were clean and now a murky brown, streaked with inch thick dirt. Broken glass is scattered across the floor and I grimace, stepping around it.

My hand wraps around my phone tightly and the other clutches the handle of the small knife inside my jacket pocket. It's for my protection but the thought of possibly having to use it scares the living crap out of me.

I'm not a violent person but the situation I find myself in requires me to be brave and firm. I don't feel

brave or firm. Cold harsh winds whip around me and even though it's late afternoon, darkness fills the sky. The street lamps light up, illuminating objects with a creepy shadow.

I shiver at the icy breeze that surrounds me and I wrap my black leather jacket around me tighter, hands trem- bling. I stand in front of the door, building up the courage to push it open and take the first step inside.

You can do this Emily, you only have to speak to him for a few minutes, get the answers you need and leave.

I silently wish Jake was by my side but I also didn't want to risk his safety. Jones specifically asked for me to leave Jake at home and I hate lying to him about where I'm going. I told him I'd be shopping with Trish and that could take up to a few hours. With Trish it usually does. The idea of Trish buying everything that came into her sight sounds more appealing than meeting with Jones. I inhale sharply before wrapping my hand around the dirty handle and stepping inside.

The first thing that hits me is the repugnant scent filling the air. The entire place reeks of stale beer, smoke and sweat. My stomach that'a already in knots starts doing frickin' gymnastics inside my body.

The pub is busy with crowds of men, clutching glass beers in their hand. A football match is playing on the large screen in the corner and a group of middle aged men are screaming profanities at it, drinks spilling over the side of the glass with their annoyance. No-one notices me at first but as I take a few more steps inside, the noise level quietens and heads turn in my direction. I drop my gaze to the floor, nerves building up quickly as I head for a booth at the back.

Disgusting comments and sniggers are thrown my way as I make a beeline for the table, legs shaking underneath my weight. The crowds and their intense stare terrify me but I try to ignore their scrutinising gaze. I take a seat, breathing a sigh of relief.

I'm guessing not many teenage girl's walk into this pub. . .

My hair falls around my shoulders and I gladly hid behind it, now realising the mistake of sitting where I was. I can't see the door meaning I can't keep an eye out for DC Jones.

"God, I'm an idiot," I mumble at myself, standing back up and walking around to the opposite side of the table. I'm just about settling down when a dark figure slides in opposite me, sitting in the spot I was in mere seconds ago.

"How are you darling? How about you and I have a drink?" He slurs, leering at my chest and signalling at the bar.

Numerous eyes are watching us and I shake my head, my eyes scanning over him. He clutches at a bottle of cider and looked as pissed as a parrot. His face is covered in week old facial hair and I grimace at the sight of his stain covered clothes that are stale and sweaty. I force a small smile onto my face, responding to his question.

"No thank you, I'm okay for now."

He chuckles quietly at my response and his hand shoots out quickly, taking hold of my arm. His grip is cold, the contact between us making my skin crawl. I glance down at it, gritting my teeth at the sight of his dirty hand on mine. "Let go of me."

My voice is strong and calm and even I'm impressed with the tone I use. His top lip curls up intimidatingly but his hold tightens further. I let out a low hiss under my breath, my face emotionless as I attempt to yank his hand off me. He leans closer, his breath laced with alcohol.

"When I offer you a drink, you should take it." He whisper, sick humour lining his voice.

"I would but I'd probably catch a disease. Let me go." I shoot back at him, narrowing my eyes. I lean back further into the seat, trying to put as much distance between us as I can. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Jones and almost stop breathing.

His hood is pulled over his head and he wore a dark jacket followed by some jet black jeans. His stance screamed authority and everyone else in the pub seemed to have quietened down and spoke in hushed whispers around him.

There's no mistaking his piercing eyes, they burn brightly like a blue flame. His jaw is clenched tightly as he takes a step forward.

I'd completely forgotten about the man opposite me, unable to tear my eyes off DC Jones. I watch him like a hawk. He stops as he stands behind the man, looking down at him and tilting his head slightly. My throat dries up, sucking all the moisture out of my mouth and a drink definitely sounds appealing right now.

The man that has hold of my wrist is completely unaware of the figure stood over him and continues to leer at me, his presence making my skin crawl. Jones' hand shot out and he places it on the mans shoulder whose head im- mediately snaps to it, before glancing at his face.

As he meets eyes with Jones, he immediately drops his hold on my wrist and I clutch it towards my body, thankful to have his dirty paws off me. The man's face immediately pales and he stands to his feet, staggering over slight- ly. He looks like he's seen a ghost.

"I am s-so sorry." He apologises, taking a few steps back away from Jones. He's shorter than him by a fair few inches and Jones looms over him like an authoritative giant. The man appears terrified and cowers a little, back- ing up into the wall behind him. I scoot as far away into the wall as I can, wishing I could find a way to make a run for it without having to pass Jones.

I watch silently, my hands trembling in my lap as DC Jones takes a few steps towards the petrified man and grabs him by the scruff of his neck. The man instantly shut his eyes as if expecting a blow to his face, something I recognised from my time living with Trevor.

"Please! I didn't do anything, I wasn't touching her, I swear!" He pleads, his eyes growing wide with terror. DC Jones remains silent, blue flames burning holes into the man's face. His lips curl up into a smirk as he enjoys the