by K. S. Adkins
Berserk
Copyright © 2014 K.S. ADKINS
Published by K.S. Adkins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: K.S. Adkins 2014
Publishing assisted by Black Firefly: http://www.blackfirefly.com/
(Shedding light on your self-publishing journey)
For Jane
If you’re reading this then you like in your face, let’s blow shit up, have a few orgasms and crave escapism through the written word. My stories aren’t neat and clean. I’m all about strong females and the males that try to keep up. My love affair with Detroit is a deep one. Like the characters I believe in, I feel the same about my city. My stories are over the top and meant to entertain. How many times have you seen or heard something and thought, damn I wish I could do that.
If you’re looking for some over the rainbow shit, exit here because this ain’t Kansas, Toto.
But if you want to be entertained and possibly turned on, flip the damn page. The final two books will also have back story at the beginning of each chapter to keep you invested in the characters history, which includes past and present tense. I also touch on prejudice. Why? Because, I despise it. I won’t stand for it and neither do my characters.
Okay, that’s all I’ve got. Read on!
Detroit is like the boogie man. Those who don’t know it fear it, and those who do know it are fearless. Only the strong survive and the fearless thrive. This can be said about both criminal and civilian alike. The streets like anything, need balance. One by one the fearless women that were born and raised here are reuniting, and there are those who refuse to allow the balance to be tipped in their favor.
There are those who like the streets as they are. They like the crime, fear, death, and corruption. When it’s good versus evil, there will always be a bloodbath. Rules will get broken, lives will be lost, and faith will be tested. The streets that made Jules the woman she is today will embrace her but; the shadows of her past will do whatever it takes to stop her. When the boogie man threatens the only man she’s ever loved, Jules will be rocked to her very foundation, but she’ll come up shooting. Being born of the streets, raised by them, and fearless because of them makes her a force to be reckoned with. Jules is not your average female.
Word on the street is shit is about to get real.
She was in a bed that was unfamiliar to her, but the sadness wasn’t. She knew few things in life. Order, loyalty, and love were the rules she lived by. But eight years ago, on a day she worked tirelessly for, her only constant was noticeably absent. The lone seat she reserved for him was empty. It was a hot afternoon, the sun was causing her to sweat, and she was nauseous but she ignored it. He would come, he always came for her.
But this time, she feared he hadn’t.
When her name was called, she walked forward with no one in the audience knowing that though she was full of pride, her fragile heart was broken.
Jules Allen was officially a graduate from the United States Military Academy at West Point. Her life had consisted of training, studying, and living by one code. A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do. Looking toward the crowd one last time, hoping to be proven wrong, she stowed her broken heart away. She had no room to love him any longer. Loving him provided no safety. She was leaving here today with a Bachelor of Science degree, a pregnancy, broken heart, and a fresh start.
After receiving her honors she quietly went back to her quarters and wept. That day in a small barrack she also built herself back up with the help of her fellow graduate and friend, Bishop. Dedicating her life to upholding the code, she turned her back on those who disregarded her first. Her mother, her city, and now her husband.
Her life was simple: follow the code. But he hadn’t done that. Though she is a firm believer everything happens for a reason, she could never figure out why his leaving her had to happen at all. She promised herself that she could do this alone, that she would do this alone.
She closed her heart off as best she could, knowing it could never close to him completely. With a baby growing inside of her she knew she’d be forced to face him again one day. She had no idea how painful that day would be, and that after all these years, she could still love Maxwell Allen so much that she would sacrifice everything she’s ever stood for to protect him.
But would he ever protect her in return?
“Detroit turned out to be heaven, but it also turned out to be hell.” ~Marvin Gaye
“You look just like your mother,” he says, petting me.
“Hands off, dickbag,” I growl at him.
“Someone needs to bring you to heel.” He laughs at me. “Like a good bitch.”
Bracing myself for a fight, he doesn’t make me wait when he reaches for me, I smack his hand away and he follows up with a back hand that cuts me above the eyebrow. Wiping it off and seeing his ring cut me, I morphed into superbitch. Back-handing him myself, he staggers back, reaching for his own wound.
“You haven’t seen the last of me.” He sneers, backing away. “You better hope I don’t see you again; next time you touch me I’ll break your fucking arm, old man.” I promise him as he runs away.
You have got to be kidding me. Handcuffed to his bed. I can say in my marriage, that’s a motherfucking first. Hell, in my life that’s a first. I’d never let a man cuff me to anything, ever. To be a cuffed to a bed with my own equipment? The humiliation is unspeakable, and maybe in the recesses of my own mind, kinda hot, too—not that I’ll be admitting that anytime soon. He said he wanted to ‘talk’, the fucking liar. He got me here under false pretenses which I’ll admit impressed me. It showed gumption. But none of that matters right now because I’m indisposed. Few things work me up. Few things can drive me to act. Few things can bring out the worst in me. In fact, there is only one thing that can evoke all of these things in me.
Him.
My husband.
Maxwell.
Growing up on the wrong side of town, in the oldest clothes, dirtiest shoes, and never being “in” because of my street status, some would call me a late bloomer. I was and in many ways and still am the poor kid from Detroit. I’ve got a rap sheet (or resume, as I like to call it) a mile long. Street fighting, theft, arson (though I still say I was set up) and assault, just to name a few.
I hated school. Not the classes, but the people who went there. Teenagers are dicks. But when my counselor told me I could apply for a scholarship for a private school in the city or I could bide my time until I did real time as an adult, I chose school. It was there I met Venessa, Macy, and then Lina. Venessa and Macy are tight like Lina and I are, but when the four of us were together… The cops were called, often.
When tragedy rocked our group things changed overnight. Venessa’s family was murdered, Macy’s parents offed themselves, and Lina’s parents disowned her, and since I didn’t have shit but needed direction desperately I join
ed the Army, leaving them and Detroit behind. I had to get the fuck out of here. So the night before I left, we had a going-away bash at Macy’s house which back then meant a dance party and Strawberry Boone’s Farm. Little did I know that night would change the course of my life forever and even knowing that now, I would have done it any way.
Walking home to my mom’s one bedroom hole, a boy (well, he was a grown man, I just didn’t get it then) pulled up on his bike and offered me a ride. He was tall, like NBA tall, he was money, he was gentle, and he was quiet. He told me his name was Max and that he’d be getting me home safe that night. Saying no never crossed my mind. First, I straddled his bike, and within twenty minutes of that I was straddling him. That night, I gave a man named Max my virginity, but had nothing else to offer. When I had him drop me at a corner so he wouldn’t see the shit hole I lived in, I never expected to see him again. He was everything I wasn’t; I mean, his bike alone was worth more than my house and everything inside of it.
I left the next morning, a little sore and a whole lot eager to start a new life. Except when I walked out the front door to hit the Grayhound station there he was in front of my house, on his bike, offering me a helmet and a ride.
Walking up to me he took the bag, threw it over his shoulder, and before he or I could say anything my mother came out to give me her own emotional goodbye.
“Stay gone,” she said. “You think you’re better than me, Red? You ain’t. Just send me money for toleratin’ you, that’s all I want. You owe me.”
“Your Mom?” he said in his quiet way helping me back on to his bike.
“On paper, yeah.”
“Let’s get you to the station, then.”
Nodding, that’s what we did. Then he stayed with me while I waited for my train to come in. There was no need to talk, so we didn’t. Instead we people watched; well, mainly I watched him. I’d never met anyone like him before. He was the biggest man I’ve ever been around, yet I wasn’t afraid. I couldn’t figure him out, or what he saw in me, and I didn’t have enough experience to try. When it was my time to go he kissed me and said “Wish we had longer, wish you’d told me you were a virgin, and I’ll keep wishing for you, until I see you again.”
Speechless I just stood there. He took out a piece of paper that had his name, number, and email address on it. Holding it close to my heart, I stood on my toes to kiss him back.
“Be happy, Max.” I told him, expecting never to see him again, and then when I turned to leave he pulled me back to him in a fierce hug.
“Happiness for me will be you coming home to me; you make that happen, or I’ll come for you.”
That’s how it started. I fell in love with a man at a train station. We kept in touch and we flew out to see each other as often as time allowed. We had weekends of learning each other and thousands of emails between us. Then in a moment of impulse I agreed to marry the man, but then, like always, life got in the way. His father and I had some issues, as in he hated me but I never told Max why. All I knew was I simply couldn’t, not yet. I had no family, so while I put in my time getting my education he opened a club and made his own life. Even though my love grew, the visits were less and less, but my feelings never changed. When he didn’t show for my graduation from West Point my life fell apart. I gave him and the Army everything I had. Only the Army was the only thing to prove stable. That night I put my ring in my footlocker, sealed my broken heart off, and got on with things.
But I never once forgot him. Over the years I thought about filing for divorce, but could never do it. I swore I even saw him from time to time, but couldn’t be sure. I chalked it up to a fantasy. You know the one, where the man loves the woman so much he moves heaven and earth to find her. Except that didn’t happen so I decided my imagination needed to lay off the smack. Fast forward and now I had a great career and team. We took missions and we saved lives and if need be we took them too. I did what I set out to do. I was exactly what the government wanted me to be. Lethal. But it wasn’t enough. When I started hearing things about his club, things I shouldn’t be hearing a position opened in the DEA and I took it. He may only be my husband on paper, but he was still mine. When I started getting calls from Macy, what she was telling and what I was hearing made me nervous. I needed to get home. I may not know my husband very well, but he was honorable. At least I fucking hoped he was, considering I’m putting my career on the line for him.
So I came home, needing to get answers. My friends needed me; my husband needed me, too. He just didn’t know it, and probably wouldn’t care. Hell, I shouldn’t care either, but I do.
Our reunion so far has been rocky, a lot of dirty looks and plenty of swearing aimed at me is what I’ve got to show for my stay here so far. Max is not the quiet guy I remember, nor the gentle man I married. I don’t know this Max. He’s changed. Then again, so have I, and the second I get out of these cuffs I’m going to show him just how much.
In the meantime though, this bed is just too comfortable not to sleep in. Closing my eyes I enjoy the pillow top mattress and down comforter. A nap, I’ll just take a quick nap. After all, I’m going to need my strength.
Drifting off to sleep I tried thinking of all the reasons I should pack up and leave. The problem was I could only come up with reasons to stay. In my line of work you don’t just have a plan A; you keep every letter of the alphabet as back up. Ten years this man has been my sole focus, even when eight of those were spent apart.
Yeah I should go, and I will, once I fix things.
However, I knew this time when I left I’d be broken permanently.
“Your social life can wait,” he says, throwing a stack of files on my desk. “That slut can wait, too.”
Leaning forward to look at his latest reason for keeping me here, it takes everything I have not to throw his ass across the room. That’s my wife he’s talking about.
“I’ll be back in three days,” I tell him. “This can wait.” Making a note on it, I set it aside, prepared to leave for the airport.
Grabbing my arm, he throws me back in my chair and threatens me like he always does; this time, though, I knew his threat isn’t an idle one.
“You leave this unfinished, your club will not be here when you return,” he says. “When I gave you this money I expected you to be responsible with it. You are too busy chasing that whore around to see that we are losing revenue. I’m not in this business to lose money, Maxwell. You get on that plane, consider yourself cut off.”
Nodding to him, I take the files and turn my computer back on. Once again, he hangs Lush over my head. Ignoring him I go through the files, seeing our accountant is utterly useless. Looking at the clock I see I don’t have enough time to make my flight. An hour later I have a meeting with the accountant, and I’m devastated I’ve missed her graduation. I tell myself she’ll forgive me, and that she’ll understand.
Only this time she didn’t, and I couldn’t blame her.
I’m going to hell for this. This isn’t me. I don’t chain women to headboards. Shit, I’ve never chained a woman up, period. I’ve been sitting in my car in the driveway for fifteen minutes, I can’t even be the bastard I want to be and leave her here. When I should be at work, I’m not. When I should be tracking down Tony, I’m not. When I should just let her go and pretend I haven’t spent every second of the last eight years missing her, I can’t fucking do that either.
She’s home. She came back to a place she swore she’d never see again, and the question is why? She’s mentioned Macy and sometimes Venessa, but I haven’t seen her prior to her showing up again to ask how they all knew each other. She has another friend here, Lina, but she’s tight-lipped and protective when it comes to her. The few times I had with her we didn’t spend them talking, that’s for damn sure. My wife, yeah, well, she’s a private person. Right around the time we fell apart Venessa became a permanent fixture, followed by Macy, which was why I let her stick around even being a minor. Jules told me about her friends, what happene
d to them, and why she worried. Bottom line is, they needed this place, and I wanted them to have somewhere they could go and be safe. I never told Venessa or Macy that I knew Jules, let alone that I married her, because outside of a piece of paper, I married a fucking ghost.
I was embarrassed to say I found the love of my life then lost her because I was a coward. There’s never been another for me, either. Call it what you will, but I took vows and I upheld them; they mattered to me. She matters to me. Not a damn thing in life has been easy on her. My own father was downright cruel to her, and I didn’t stick up for her when I should have, so add that to my list of sins.
She’s twenty-eight now; I’m pushing forty. When I begged her to marry me I thought I could get her back here with me for good. Start a family and do what everyone else does. Turns out my wife didn’t like to be backed into a corner. She also expects you to keep your word, I didn’t do that either, and I’ve been paying for it for years.
My father gave me my inheritance (with conditions), and I used it to open Lush. Jules was my biggest supporter back then. She encouraged me to do what made me happy. I never went to college, didn’t have to. I was a spoiled rich kid with a strict upbringing. Lush was a fuck-you to my father and everyone else who thought working was beneath them. Jules never had strict; shit, the woman never had anything. For her the Army was her calling, and when I should have supported her, I didn’t. The weekend that changed everything was the one I didn’t show for. Graduating from West Point is major for anyone but it was momentous for her. She had worked so damn hard for it. She flew through basic and just when she didn’t think she’d get accepted she did. When she asked me what I thought I told her she was just signing on for a longer term. I didn’t understand then why her doing this was so important that she would risk us in the process. That day will forever haunt me, knowing she needed me and my failing her. We were struggling as it was and I knew it. After that, she stopped calling, she stopped writing, and outside of trying to follow her sometimes, I haven’t spoken to her in years. Gallo was the only one who could ever get a lead on her. Since the club is only open on weekends, I have a lot free time. So when I could I would follow her, check on her, and pine for her from a distance. I had two perfect years with her and eight without. Where she seems to be excelling I’m floundering. I’ve seen her with the same guy for three years now. Partner? Boyfriend? Lover? None of those sit well with me. She’s my goddamned wife. The one I proposed to and the one who promised to love the rest of my miserable life.
