Half a month later, both the door to Jack's room in the Fugitive Task Force's dormitory and his beloved Firebird had been repaired. The remaining members of the former 110 Special Investigation Team gathered once more.
A large smoker grill had been set up on the front lawn of the small building, and everyone involved in the case—including Stella from CSI New York and the entire Reagan clan—showed up.
Of course, there were also those who'd worked quietly behind the scenes but didn't appear: David Rossi, Dana Mosier, big bald Frank Moses, and Jack's two badass lady friends couldn't make it.
Big Frank remained elusive as always, the two ladies were tied up in California, and Rossi had already made a trip to New York days earlier, delivering a gift to Jack with Dana—a modified Audi R8 equipped with hidden police lights.
The near-mint-condition supercar was a thank-you from the FBI's International Division, a gesture in return for the international terrorist Jack had handed over.
Rumor had it the case had even caught the attention of the President and the Secretary of State. With the U.S. currently courting the young North Korean leader, the defector had become the perfect diplomatic gift.
The lawsuit against Senator Lavoie would likely drag on for some time, but that didn't matter much anymore. Unless something went horribly wrong, Jack was soon to have a senator girlfriend.
Well, technically, it was Senator Zoey Anderson who had an FBI boyfriend.
With so many guests in attendance, Jack focused on quantity and satisfaction when it came to food. The grill was a classic Texas-style slow smoker, filled with brisket and pork ribs that had been marinated for a full day.
Smoking meat that way took serious effort. Jack borrowed a technique from Peking duck, using fragrant applewood for fuel, occasionally spritzing the meat with fruit vinegar and grape juice to retain moisture.
After seven to eight hours at around 120°C, the brisket released juices with just the lightest press, and the pork ribs were fall-off-the-bone tender—you could pull each rib out with your fingers.
Americans loved their BBQ sauces, and Jack had prepared plenty. But his seasoning was so on point that most people were already more than satisfied with the meat as-is.
Worried guests might get overwhelmed by just meat, Jack also baked fresh bread and shredded the brisket to make sandwiches with onions and bell peppers.
Surprisingly, the crowd favorite was a fusion dish: roujiamo—a Chinese-style meat bun. Using a flaky, layered Shaanxi-style bun that was crispy outside and chewy inside, paired with juicy brisket, it delivered a delightful surprise.
After most guests had left, the Special Investigators were treated to a surprise of their own. Negri hung up a call, eyes wide as she glanced at Reacher, then Jack.
"My dad just called me… What did you guys do?"
"If Jack had transferred the money directly into your account, you probably would've scoffed at it. But a 24-hour care plan from the Chicago Family Health Center is a different story," Reacher said, casually toying with a beer bottle like he was discussing the weather.
"That way, you'll finally have some time to yourself. You won't have to spend every spare moment taking care of your father anymore."
"Reacher said you'd never accept a handout," Jack added with a grin, drying his hair with a towel and accepting a beer from Negri. "But your father's never going to spend all that money. In the end, it'll come to you as an inheritance."
Cooking, like working out, had a way of putting Jack in a good mood. The only downside was the greasy smell afterward—so a post-meal shower and maybe a cigar were always in order.
"What about me?" O'Donnell said with anticipation. "What did the world's beefiest Santa leave under my tree this year?"
"You got nothing," Reacher said with a grin, clinking bottles with him.
Jack reached into his pocket and handed him an envelope. "At the credit union around the corner from your place, Reacher set up an education fund for your two kids. It'll cover private school and future college tuition.
Even if you and your wife decide to raise a whole basketball team and every single kid wants to be a doctor, it'll still be enough."
"What happened with Senator Lavoie proves just how dangerous those political jobs can get. You won't need to resort to blackmailing politicians anymore. Start picking the cases you want to take."
O'Donnell couldn't help but laugh and shake his head. "I… I really don't know what to say."
Then Reacher turned to Dixon. "Speaking of jobs—you can quit yours. Jack's friend helped register a consulting firm under your name. I don't know the specifics, but the IRS has long-term contracts lined up for you.
The company's well-funded. I know you've got ideas—big ones. You're too smart not to be your own boss. Now you can let those ideas fly and do what you want."
Dixon's eyes went wide in disbelief. "Uh… wow…" That was all she managed for a while, before finally squeaking out, "Thank you."
Everyone's gaze eventually turned to the big guy, but he said nothing. After a long pause, O'Donnell finally asked, "So what about you, big guy? What'd you get yourself?"
Reacher furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment. "A new toothbrush? Jack said it was gross how I just toss mine in my pocket. Suggested I get one with a protective case."
Everyone burst into laughter, assuming it was a joke—until they caught Jack's smirking expression.
"Oh my God," Dixon gasped. "He's serious."
"I originally planned to give him a stock transfer agreement too," Jack added, placing a box of cigars on the table, "with annual dividends to fund his travels. But he refused."
"After deducting the costs for the door and my car, I splurged on this box of cigars. The rest of the money went to a nonprofit that provides mental health services for veterans."
Each Special Investigator, including the ladies, received a cigar. The women held onto theirs as keepsakes; the men lit up right away. O'Donnell exhaled a slow ring of smoke and spoke thoughtfully.
"You know, Reacher, when I first heard you traveled the country with nothing but what fit in your pockets, I thought you were nuts. Like one of those PTSD guys losing it."
"But now I've gotta admit—maybe you're the one among us who really figured it out."
Reacher smiled silently, and no one else spoke. They all knew the moment of parting was near.
Sensing the sudden heaviness, Dixon's eyes twinkled. She slipped her arm around Reacher's and gave him a sweet smile.
"Maybe there's still something you can do, Reacher—come home with me. I really want you to meet my parents."
Under the group's amused and nosy stares, the big guy visibly tensed. His muscles tightened, his breathing stopped, and his face flushed crimson.
As it became clear he had no idea how to respond, Dixon burst out laughing and threw her arms around his neck. "Damn it, you couldn't tell I was joking? Why do I feel guilty now?"
"Oh, I—I knew that…" Reacher stammered, struggling to recover from the scare. Finally, he wrapped his arms around her.
Jack suddenly popped up with a grin, holding an envelope right between their faces. "Before you two break the bed upstairs, here's a little something for Reacher."
Blushing, Dixon took the envelope. After Reacher nodded, she opened it and pulled out a small card. "What's this?"
"A Greyhound travel pass," Jack explained with a smile. "It's a $1,980 annual pass that lets Reacher take any Greyhound bus, anywhere in the country, as often as he wants.
This way, I don't have to worry about him randomly hopping a freight train and ending up in a derailment."
"Sounds like a $1,980 dose of freedom," Reacher said, happily tucking the card into his pocket before lifting Dixon off the couch.
"You could stay for dinner," someone offered. "Jack's got plenty of ingredients left."
Everyone flipped him off in unison. Negri laughed, "You've got 10 minutes tops. Dixon and I have a ride to catch to the airport."
"Ten minutes? That's cutting it close. I'm not O'Donnell," Reacher quipped as he disappeared upstairs—earning two middle fingers from O'Donnell in return.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.