Berserk

by K. S. Adkins

  “She just needed you to be you, Max,”

  Then he pulls away and I just stand there feeling like the best thing I could do for anyone would be to walk away. Just be me, he said, like that was such a simple solution. Being me is what drove her away. Being me is what hurt her. Being me is what brought me to where I was at this exact moment. Right now, I didn’t like being me all that much.

  When Rafe and Macy roll up to fix my shoulder, they don’t look happy about it. Pulling me inside without saying a word, she fixes me up and leaves. Turns out the bullet was from a .22, which looked a lot worse than it really was. Several hours after that I grab my keys from the drawer and drive back home to suffer in silence.

  A silence of my own making.

  “Your mother doesn’t want what I’m offering, but maybe you do?” He laughs while trying to get me to sit on his lap. “Come on now, little one,” he purrs. “I’ll even let you call me daddy.”

  “Touch me again and you’ll be picking your rotten teeth up off the floor, daddy.”

  “Such strength for something so tiny.” He laughs. “Your mother is useless. You, though, you have unlimited potential. All that anger and defiance; I bet I could make a fortune off of you.”

  Before I could scream at him for offering to pimp me out there’s banging on the door.

  “Saved by the bell.” He laughs, looking at the screen. “Now that one,” he says, looking at Lina when she walks in. “That one may be worth even more than you are.”

  After a solid eight hours of alcohol-induced sleep I was awake, feeling like absolute shit but putting my issues aside to meet with the guys. Until a week ago, I was never a drinker. When this is over I’ll go back to coffee and water, but for now, whisky and tequila are the only things keeping me level.

  Barely.

  Crawling out of the lumpy bed I walk into the kitchen and notice the guys already made coffee and breakfast. Oh and they never left, either.

  “Mornin’, Boss,” says Bishop holding out a cup for me. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Good,” I say, flinching because I sound like shit.

  “Talked to Rogan,” says Duffy. “They’ll be here in two hours.”

  “All right,” I say, gulping my coffee. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

  “Boss,” says Duffy, taking me by the elbow. “Gotta talk about last night.”

  Sighing to myself I shuffle over to the couch, cross my legs, and wait for the lecture. When Bishop sits next to me and pulls me to his side I fight it back. These two have always been my rocks, even when they didn’t know it.

  “Uh,” says Bishop, clearing his throat. “Max was pretty closed off when you left; he was in a bad place, and uh…”

  “And uh what, Bishop?”

  “Said Hank put his hands on you,” he says, looking at the floor.

  “Yeah, so? That was years ago, I handled it.”

  “He told Rogan Hank said he raped you.”

  “Come again?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us, Red?” asks Duffy, sitting on my other side. Looking back and forth seeing their misery, I put their minds at ease.

  “Because he didn’t rape me? You honestly think even as a kid I’d let a guy like that get ahold of me?”

  “Hank told Max he did, and he’s not handling it well.”

  “Max thinks Hank raped me?”

  When they both nod I drop my head. “Shit.”

  Standing up, walking to the bathroom, and turning on the water, I take a two-minute shower. When I get out Bishop has everything waiting for me. Clothes, guns, phone, and a coffee to go. When I look up he’s dangling his keys for me, too.

  “I’ll be back within two hours.”

  When I leave the hotel I promise myself two things: I’ll put Max’s mind at ease about Hank, and I won’t cry in front of him, that’s all I could offer. Arriving at Max’s my nerves are fucking shot. Will he slam the door in my face? Will he be afraid of me? Or maybe he just won’t be anything, which to me feels far worse. Max was always full of emotion; to see him without it would crush me. Lifting my arm to knock, he’s there opening the door, looking defeated.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Yeah,” he says, opening the door further. “Come in.”

  “Actually, can we sit out here?”

  Nodding, he steps out wearing only his jeans, which breaks my heart because he looks beautiful, and I ache knowing I can’t have him. His shoulder is bandaged and he has lines around his eyes that show me he’s in pain. Jesus, that makes two of us.

  “How’s the shoulder?”

  “Sore.”

  “Did Macy give you anything for pain?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you taking it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I prefer the pain.”

  “Max,” I begin. “Take the meds; it will help you heal.”

  “I just said I prefer the pain, Jules,” he says, looking away. Okay, so he’s not happy to see me. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

  “You seem to be under the illusion Hank raped me,” I tell him bluntly. “He didn’t.”

  When his head sags, I want to pull him to me and run my fingers through his hair, lay him down on his couch, and make him soup. God dammit, I want to do wife things, but then I remind myself that’s not an opportunity I’m going to have, so I wrap it up in an effort to walk away with a touch of pride.

  “I just needed you to know that,” I say, standing up. “Be happy, Max.”

  He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t look at me and he certainly doesn’t stop me. Not looking back I climb into the truck, back out of his driveway, park a few blocks away, then scream into my balled up fists. Raging about everything and even a few things I made up, I continued to scream until it throws me into a coughing fit, forcing me to stop. Life is so fucking unfair.

  Pulling into the hotel lot after my screaming jag, I’m exhausted. Walking in I see we’ve already got a full house, including Venessa and Macy. Not what I need right now; two mother hens are the last thing I want to listen to. The second I open the door they both rush me, but thankfully Rafe intercepts first.

  “You good?”

  “I’m good,” I say, taking am empty seat and getting down to business. “You good?” I ask looking over at him. “Princess says I’m lucky I still have full use of my mouth, but yeah I’m good and I’m sorry.”

  “Forgiven.”

  With that out of the way, the next several hours are spent discussing Hank, the club, Macy’s drug, and even Max briefly. But when I suggest cutting off all team updates with the Captain the room goes eerily quiet. I am not surprised by this. Rogan and Rafe work directly for the Captain, while the girls love him like a father. I have my own memories with the man, but not enough to inspire total loyalty. I’ve been around long enough to know when there’s corruption, and the DPD is corrupted. Whether the Cap is involved or not matters little. Also not surprising, Rogan is the first to speak up.

  “You suggesting we can’t trust our Captain, Jules?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything,” I explain to the group. “Something has to give here. You have to change the way information is given. Every detail of what your team does goes directly to him. I’m not saying he’s sharing intel. I’m saying until we know how far up this goes, he needs to be in the dark. Think of it as keeping him safe as well. The less he knows, the better. If he checks out then bring him back in, but at this point anyone outside of this room is suspect.”

  “Including Max?” asks Venessa, giving me that look.

  “No,” I tell her bluntly. “Not Max.”

  Seeming satisfied, she doesn’t say another word and we got back to business. Once they leave I check my phone. No correspondence from Max, but several calls from Lina.

  Shit.

  If lying to yourself was a sport, I would be a god damn gold medalist. Staring at myself in the mirror, I don’t even see me
anymore. Letting her go broke me, and my sleepless nights aren’t helping, either. People always say it gets easier with time. Bullshit, it doesn’t get easier. Regret doesn’t fade away; it festers, infecting every part of your life.

  Everywhere I go, I see her.

  Only she’s made a life for herself and I’m not in it. That club is the only thing keeping me here. Venessa needs that club more than I do. For her being there is therapy; for me it’s torture. The other thing about regret is I’m been living with it so long that I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t just show up and expect her to forgive me. She never let me explain, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have bought it.

  Why should she? We both know I’m a coward, but she realized it before I did. I’ll always regret what I’ve done, and hope wherever she is that she’s safe and happy. I love her enough not to hold her back.

  She loved herself enough to realize she deserved better.

  Hours after she left I stayed glued to my porch step. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything except wonder, what was I supposed to be doing? She told me Hank didn’t rape her, which makes sense considering she was a virgin when I met her and he was long gone by then. But when he bragged about it, my head wasn’t in the place it needed to be to work that out on its own, and believe me, working it out now isn’t any easier.

  Staying on the porch took everything I had. When she said she was getting out of my way I wanted to beg her to stay and to tell her the truth, but I didn’t. She left looking so lost and unhappy. I suppose when someone you love tells you that you’re beneath them and that you’ve moved on it would make that person very unhappy. Putting my hand in my pocket, I pull her ring out. Rolling it around between my fingers, I want to lash out at the choices I made that brought me here, to this moment. Things I’ve done, choices I’ve made without her input that led us to where we are now.

  My soon-to-be ex-wife killed my father.

  I’m not upset that she did it. I’m upset that she was put in the position that she had to do it at all. I’m fucking pissed that I wasn’t man enough to stand up for her, that I didn’t use her skills and knowledge when I should have. Rafe was right; she stands in front of me when I should have been strong enough to keep her at my side, or better yet act as her shield.

  When Rogan’s truck pulls up and the girls jump out, I groan. I really don’t want a lecture right now. I’d rather get shot again then listen to these two. Good intentions or not, when they have a cause it’s exhausting, but when you are that cause it’s really fucking exhausting.

  “You look like ass, Max,” says Venessa, sitting next to me. Macy takes the other side and gives me a questioning look to see if it’s okay that she checks my bandage. Nodding yes, she peels it back then reaches in her bag, producing a very large needle.

  “An antibiotic for infection,” she says, injecting my arm. She pulls out another needle then Venessa chimes in, “What the fuck is that one for?”

  “Pain and inflammation,” she says, injecting the opposite shoulder. “It’s going to help you sleep, Max. Jules said you weren’t sleeping.”

  Jules was worried about me not sleeping, and there it is, why she deserves better. Suddenly my body feels warm and soft. “Up you go, big guy,” says Venessa while Macy assists. Walking me into my living room and setting me on the couch, I watch them as they grab pillows, blankets, my phone, and a bottle of water.

  “Jules,” I whisper to myself. “Fucking Jules.”

  “What about her?” asks Macy, looking at me funny.

  “Married me just because I asked,” I say, remembering the day perfectly. “Visited her during basic, she was so damn beautiful. Didn’t want to leave her, wanted her to be proud. So I asked and she said yes.” Opening my palm I focus on the ring without success. “It was supposed to stay on her finger,” I say, showing them the ring. “Didn’t show up, let her down. Always letting her down. Always making her leave.”

  “Max?” says Venessa in a soft voice I rarely hear. “She hasn’t left yet.”

  Closing my eyes in misery, I mumbled the truth before letting sleep take me. “Yes she did,” I mumble, “I made her, gave her no choice.”

  “We’ve known Jules a long time, Max,” says Macy, and I struggle to stay awake. “She wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t mean it then, and she wouldn’t leave at all if you asked her to stay now.”

  “Here earlier,” I mumble. “Let her go. Pussy, always been a pussy. Hank was right.”

  “Max!” snaps Venessa, forcing me to pay attention. “You’re my friend, yeah? But I’m real tired of you making her cry. Until you, I haven’t ever even seen her cry. I was just with her, puffy eyes, runny nose, and miserable. You did that? Why would you fucking do that? Don’t give me any excuses about saving her, either.”

  “No excuses,” I mumble. “She deserves more, deserves to shine bright.”

  They may have been speaking but I wasn’t listening, instead I was drifting, wishing I could do something to show her I was worth it. Knowing I had nothing to offer, I let sleep take me.

  The day before I was set to ship out, I swore I saw him watching me from the park across the street. I could feel his eyes like a physical touch. Turning around I made eye contact with him, or what my mind had hoped was him, only when he didn’t move, didn’t blink, I chalked it up to my imagination.

  It had felt so real.

  Bishop noticed something was wrong, and because of my history with Hank sending his cronies, he immediately ushered me indoors. Turning around again hoping to see him one more time, I blinked and he was gone. Bishop nagged me constantly for answers about Hank. I never told him because if I did I would be forced to explain Max too and I wasn’t ready to talk about my failure as a wife. As far as Bishop knew, as far as any of them knew, I had enemies back home. My battles are my own.

  Even after everything, I wished he would come for me like he promised; tell me he still loved me like he promised; only he never did. That day I stopped wishing for things I wasn’t ever going to have. Touching my stomach softly, remembering the loss of our child, the regret I felt for never being able to tell him crushed me. I am owned by my government. I lost my child and I have a husband who won’t claim me.

  I am unloved and unlucky.

  Reality sucks.

  I feel like shit for not answering Lina’s calls and texts. That’s not something I usually do but she has a way of going straight for the truth and I’m not ready for it yet. Because the truth is, I’m spiraling and the only way for me to function is to tune out and work it off. The next few days are spent tracking leads and covering our tracks. My boss wants answers as for why I’m still here; I’m stalling in giving them to him because now I’ve got two men here, not one, and neither are sanctioned. Supplying him with just enough to let us stay, he gives me an extension with conditions. The conditions are simple: give him names, show him proof, or we’re done and I’m in deep shit. He knows my track record, so that’s the only reason we’re allowed to continue. But if I don’t put this to rest, he’ll pull the plug, and if that happens I’ll send the guys back, resign, and do the one thing I swore I’d never do: go rogue.

  Destroying almost everything I had on Hank wasn’t easy. I wanted his sins on record, but to keep Max clean I can’t do that. So the few bits of information I did keep, I kept away from anyone who might be looking for it. As for Hank Allen? He just disappeared. Weird, isn’t it?

  Knowing Max was safe, at least for now, kept me focused. But when I’m told he hasn’t been into work, hasn’t left the house, and wasn’t returning phone calls, my focus was shot and I found myself extremely concerned. Hours later I throw my pen down, save the files on my computer, jump in my new rental, and find myself driving towards his house.

  Why, I ask myself. Why am I doing this? He lied to me. He doesn’t want me like I want him, he’s made that clear, so why when I’ve been let go can’t I do the same for him in return? I suppose it’s because even knowing he doesn’t love me in the
same way, I couldn’t live with it if he thought poorly of me. I also can’t stand the thought of him in pain. So here I am pulling up to his driveway, but I can’t put it in park. I also can’t get out. I can’t fucking do anything.

  When my phone rings, I jump. Jesus, Jules, on edge much?

  “Talk.”

  “I’m fabulous,” she says. “How are you?”

  “Never been better.”

  “Could you be any shittier of a liar?”

  “Lina,” I groan. “Now is not a good time.”

  “With you it never is,” she says. “Is it time for me to come home yet? I feel like I’m missing out. I hate being left out, you know that.”

  “Not yet,” I say. “You bringing him with you? He has a lot of explaining to do, and I can’t keep his name out of this much longer; I keep hearing it wherever I go.”

  “We’ll see,” she says. “How is he?”

  “I’m sitting in his driveway.”

  “Why?”

  “Good question,” I say. “When I figure it out I’ll let you know.” Disconnecting the phone I put it in my pocket and look up at the porch. It’s now or never, I say opening the door. Walking up to his porch and knocking, I wait. Then, I wait some more. The longer I wait the more nervous I get. Shit. Does he have company? Then I decide, fuck it, if he does I’ll kill her too, then him, assuming there is a her. Maybe he didn’t lie about it? Shit. What am I doing? Oh, that’s right, torturing myself.

  Kicking the door in, gun at the ready I scan his home but come up empty. Where the fuck is he? If he’s upstairs with another woman I don’t know what I’ll do. Making his room my first stop I see it’s clear. Taking a deep breath I make way to the kitchen. Walking out to the back door my heart breaks when I look out and see Max practicing the moves I showed him, alone. Taking a few moments I watch him from the side of the window, he is simply beautiful. He is so fluid, calm, and gentle, that part of me wonders if I should sneak back out and leave him to his peace. Then the other part chimes in with a hell no, he’s ours, and decided that getting curbed once wasn’t enough, and since we’re here might as well see what else he can dish out. I deserve the truth.