by K. S. Adkins
“Open those eyes for me,” I order her. When she does I’m rewarded with that shocking blue that I love, along with her bright smile. “Now the legs, Blue,” Slowly and sexually she opens up for me, and her smile gets bigger. “Your eyes,” I whisper, kissing each lid. “They see me, don’t they?”
Nodding slowly, she whispers back. “They do.”
“Do they like what they see?”
“Like it? No. They love it.”
“You’ll always want me, Blue?”
“Always, Max.”
“Blue?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
Sliding inside of her and filling her up she latches on to me whispering, “I love you too.”
If it wasn’t for Rafe and Rogan, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope. I’m not actually coping at all, but between them and the girls I am able to stand for small periods of time without breaking things. Her men are here looking all kinds of lethal. Not that they didn’t always look off, but with her in danger, they look how I feel.
Murderous.
Duffy has been on his phone for hours; Bishop has had his fingers flying over the computer for the same amount of time. To say they’re both ignoring me would be an understatement. Macy takes the wall next to me and tries making small talk, but I’m not listening. When Rafe nods for me to follow him, I do. Making our way out to my back yard he sits on the picnic table and I take a stand next to it.
“I’m sorry about how I broke the news,” he says, staring at the grass. “I fucked up, huge.”
“Did Macy force you to apologize?”
“Princess? No,” he says. “That came from me, from in here.” Pointing to his own heart to show me and I get it.
“I can’t wait and do nothing,” I tell him. “Someone has to know something, right?”
“Rogue and I agree with Jules,” he says. “Not that we don’t trust the Cap, but for now we’re withholding intel and that means we don’t go through the proper channels.”
“So we’re putting this in her team’s hands?”
“Look, man, these are our streets, and we’ll do what we do best, but them guys in there know what they’re doing, too. I know what you’re feeling, okay? She’s alive. You got to believe that whoever took her wasn’t going to kill her, or they would have when they had the chance.”
“When does this end? First Venessa, then Macy, now Jules. This is what I was trying to protect her from.”
“Max,” he says, slapping my back. “Evil don’t shift gears. Your old man was only a small part of the problem. This shit goes deep. She was onto something; to me it seems like the second we cut off intel she got took. That tells me she was right about the department, too. She’ll do what needs doing until you can get to her.”
“Duffy and Bishop aren’t going to let me have any part in this; you know it as well as I do.”
“Yo, Max,” says Bishop from the back door. “Get your big ass in here, we got work to do.”
“Or,” says Rafe, pushing me toward the door, “Maybe they will.”
Stepping into the kitchen I notice right away the vibe is different. Walking into the living room I see why. The rest of Jules’ team is here, and I’m damn happy to see them, but it is pretty safe to say they are not happy to see me.
Approaching the group, Rogue and Rafe flank me, followed by Venessa and Macy on their sides. It is a show of support, I get that, and I really fucking appreciate it.
A very large, very scary-looking team member approaches me first.
“They call me Saint,” he says, putting his hand out. Extending my own, he tightens his grip “Been with Red from the start; we’ll be doing whatever it takes to get her back,” he says, leaning in. “By any means necessary.”
Nodding my head in thanks, I’m met with another extended hand. Returning it he says, “They call me Jumbo, been with Red two years. No laws, no limits, not for her.”
Swallowing hard I nod to her team and decide to get down to business. They need me focused, she needs me focused, I just need her back here safe.
Jumbo starts first. Placing his enormous forearms on the table he fires questions at me rapidly. I answer every one and he seems pleased about it. Saint is next, but for some reason Rafe keeps growling, and it’s irritating me. Looking over my shoulder I yell at him, “Rafe! Knock it the fuck off.”
“Direct that ‘tude at my wife, Max,” he says, scowling at Macy. “Not me.”
Macy looks over, seeming to snap out of it. “Wait. What did I do?”
“Eye-fucking another man in front of your husband.” He growls again. “That’s what you’re doing. You ain’t even tryin’ to lie about it, either.”
“You can stare at Jules’ tits but I can’t admire Jumbo’s large, toned, muscular arms?”
Jumbo has the decency to blush, but Rafe pulls Macy from the room, allowing us to focus. Bishop comes in with feeds from Campus Martius, but swears up a storm when the exact date and time this shit went down so did the feeds. Therefore it’s blank and that’s not good because it meant the feeds were tampered with.
Fuck.
“She’s been gone almost thirty hours,” I begin. “You guys are elite, right? You don’t have a way of tracking each other?”
“There are ways,” says Saint, walking into the room. “But it’s extremely painful, highly experimental, and to date none of us felt comfortable doing it. You may work for your government, but you never want them to own you completely.”
“That ain’t entirely true,” says Duffy, getting up and looking uncomfortable.
“Explain,” says Jumbo, crossing his massive arms. In that moment I can’t blame Macy for staring.
“Remember when Red had those cysts removed from her ovaries?” says Duffy, and I’m scratching my head because I never knew she even had cysts. “Well, while she was out, I had her outfitted.”
“You kept that shit to yourself?” Yells Jumbo, throwing my pepper shaker into the wall.
Grabbing Duffy by his shirt, Bishop gets in his space. “Why didn’t you tell us, motherfucker? Fuck, everything gotta be a game with you? You have no fucking clue what you’ve done!”
“No game,” he says, pushing himself away. “It was put in but never activated.”
“Why’d you do it?” asks Saint, more curious than anything.
“Out of all of us, who’s most valuable?” he asks, looking around.
When all the men stay quiet and shake their heads, I get it; she’s the most valuable.
“So turn it on!” I yell, seeing this as the obvious solution.
“Ain’t that easy,” he explains. “The second I turn it on we’ll know where she is if it works, but she don’t know she has it; she won’t be prepared for it.”
“She never had no fucking cysts, did she?” asks Rafe, asking the question that was dinging around in my mind but I was too stunned to ask.
“Bishop said she did. Saw her in the hospital and knew I had to do it,” says Duffy, hanging his head. “Just wanted to keep our girl safe.”
“She didn’t have cysts,” Bishops whispers. “She just didn’t want the team to know. You got no idea what you’ve done.”
“Turn it on,” I order him. “Turn it on right fucking now.”
Seconds later Jumbo, Saint, Rogue, Rafe, and the girls all stand by my side facing off against Duffy. The only one not pushing for this is Bishop, but I didn’t have the luxury of time to ask him why. This is the only lead we have; I don’t want my wife to hurt, but I can live with the hurt as long as she’s alive to beat me for it later. Taking out his tablet he nods, pressing a few buttons, then drops it on the table, leaving the room.
“It’s done,” he says. “Suit up.”
Facing everyone, I keep it simple while Macy studies the tablet. Stepping forward Duffy tries to speak to me while the rest of the group prepares, but I don’t have it in me listen. I’m making sure I load the magazine the way Jules taught me. When Macy yells “Got it!” we pile in f
our different vehicles and head out to get her back. Just before we roll out, Bishop cocks his head, telling me to come over to the porch. Even though the adrenaline is pumping through my veins, the look on his face has me walking to him anyway.
“What?” I ask him, shifting from foot to foot. “We need to go, Bishop.”
“Look,” he says quietly. “You need to know Boss didn’t have no cysts, okay?”
“I know,” I tell him, aggravated. “I heard, we’ll deal with it later, after I get her back.”
“No,” he says, stopping me from leaving. “You don’t get it; Boss didn’t have no cysts. She had a miscarriage. I told the guys she had cysts; she didn’t want them to know.”
My heart shatters. He must have picked up on it, because he looked as miserable as I feel. “Every once in a while she’d either hole up in her place or take off,” he admits, “to see you, Max. I didn’t know it was you, but a couple weeks after she got back from seeing you she started getting sick a lot. I didn’t know until after but, Max my man, she was so god damn happy. She was planning on finishing her time, leave it all behind to come back here to you.”
“How did she lose the baby?” I whisper, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “How, Bishop?”
“She called me in the middle of the night,” he says, wringing his hands, the memory obviously painful for him. “She woke up with a stomachache, a bad one. When I got there and sat her up she was bloody between her legs. Took her to the doc on site and she begged me to stay with her. That’s the only time I ever saw her scared. The baby was in her tubes, I forget what they call it, but Boss was hurting. When the guys got there I told Duffy she had cysts to keep her secret. I swear to Christ I didn’t know he did that shit to her, Max.”
“She never told me.”
“She planned to, the night of graduation. She shut down after that, though,” he admits. “Had a hard time dealing with graduation and the loss after. Got real focused on our shit though, too focused. We took jobs everywhere. Don’t know what happened back then, but I guess you do.”
“When did she lose the baby?”
“Two days later. She wasn’t feelin’ right a few days before, but she thought it was nerves and shit. I should have known something was wrong with her puking up blood and shit, but I didn’t want to push her. Fuck, man, I didn’t even know she was pregnant.”
Pulling me in for a man hug, I find myself holding onto him with all my strength. Jules and I didn’t make a whole lot of plans for the future. We didn’t think we needed to. We both were okay letting the future map itself out for us. The one thing we did want to plan for was a family. To find out she was willing to give it all up for the sake of that family humbled me. Like usual, she shielded me from the pain. All I have to show for that is hurting her in return.
When you can’t trust your own mother, you sleep with your back to the wall and your eyes on the door. Because of her and the idiots she brought home, I became a light sleeper in no time at all. Whether she was blown or they were, over the years a few pretended to lose their way and tried sneaking into my room.
The last guy that tried it had a #2 pencil surgically removed from his thigh.
When my door creaks my eyes snap open. Reaching under my pillow for the kitchen knife I keep there, whoever it is better hope they come no closer.
“Red?” she whimpers.
“Lina?” I ask, sitting straight up wondering how she even got in the house. “What’s wrong?”
“I left,” she whispers, sitting next to me. “Can I crash here tonight?”
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “You did it? You know you can crash here as much as you want.” Handing her my pillow and separating the blankets I put her next to wall so I can lie in front of her, keeping her safe.
“Red?” she whispers, wrapping her arm around me.
“Yeah?”
“Will you tickle my arm?”
Tucking the knife far away from her I push her sleeve up to get to her arm. “Okay,” I whisper. “Go to sleep, Lina. I’ve got you.”
Jolted awake by a strong set of hands grabbing my face, I take a chance at opening my eyes. He’s so close my eyes cross and I can’t make out any features. Squeezing my cheeks like you would a small kid makes me wince, then he lets go but doesn’t leave my space. What is it with grabbing my fucking face?
“Let go,” I order with all the authority I can muster.
“Stay awake,” was the response I got back.
Wiggling my toes first, followed by my fingers, I manage to do a full body check. I’m alive, in one piece for now, and when I take my hands and roam to the pain in my chest I feel something protruding. Then he’s there moving my hands away.
“The fuck?” I ask, more to myself then anything.
“I tranqed you,” he says casually. “Couldn’t risk you killing me during transport.”
“Smart,” I tell him. “Now where the hell am I?”
“Safe,” he says, “for now.”
“Thank you for the reassurance,” I say. “What kind of tranq was that? Kentucky Derby Put Down?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You gave me enough to tranq a horse, you fucking idiot.”
“We don’t have much time, so listen,” he says, sitting me up. “On the count of three I’m going to pull the dart out. You ready?”
“No,” I groan, closing my eyes. “I can’t even tell you how not ready I am.”
“One,” he says, ripping the dart from my chest. I let out a scream of pure pain and frustration. When he leans in to check the hole it left behind my adrenaline gives me the strength to bash his nose in. He rears back, grabbing his face.
“Fuck!” he yells, running to grab a towel.
“You said three!” I yell back. “You don’t say three and pull on one, rookie!”
“I was trying to help you!”
“Next time actually kill me or take my gun collection, don’t fucking tranq me!” I groan. “Jesus, this fucking hurts.”
“Let me look at it,” he says, approaching. “Swear to Christ you nail me again, I’ll put you back out.”
Nodding, I agree only because I think he may have ripped a hole into my chest. When he’s done he takes a seat next to me and I feel myself crashing.
“Give me your name,” I order pitifully.
“Who I am means shit,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking because I didn’t follow orders and kill you. I told you I didn’t want to do it. Why didn’t you just fucking leave?”
“I’m not finished,” I say drowsily. “You shot my partner, beat him with a crowbar, choked me, hit me with a god damn truck, and threatened my soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“I didn’t shoot to kill, I didn’t hit no vital organs, I didn’t actually choke you, I tapped you with my truck, and I was warning you about the threat to your soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“You, my friend, I believe I owe an apology,” I say. “Why, you’re the perfect gentleman.”
“I told you,” he says, pacing. “I didn’t wanna do any of that shit. They were watching, so I had to. They were watching at Walker’s place, too. Walker was a pawn, he was dead already; I did him a favor. They can’t see you here, hence why you’re breathing. I had to tranq you; it was ordered. But I brought you back as quick as I could, and if I don’t check in they’ll send someone else.”
“An assassin with a conscience?”
“I was a fucking cop,” he says. “A good cop. You know how it is here, the pay is shit, the streets are shit. Someone offers you money, you fucking take it. I was promised you were bad, he was bad, and that whole fucking crew was bad. I knew from the second that guy covered you in the alley that was bullshit, so what do I do?”
“You do a shit job of trying to warn me?”
“I do a shit job of trying to warn you,” he agrees. “Not making outta this one, I know that, but I couldn’t kill you. That ain’t me. You ain’t gotta be stopped; they do.”
“Who’s they?”
>
“You already know who they are,” he says, grabbing a glass. “Drink this, as much as you can as fast as you can.”
“What is it?” I ask, sniffing it.
“Red Bull, vodka for the pain, and six cubes of sugar.”
“And I would want to drink this because?”
“You’re gonna need your energy to kill me. If I gotta die I’d rather it be you that does it. I know you’ll be quick about it. They won’t be.”
“Hand me the glass,” I tell him, so when he does I set him straight. “If I drink this, the smart thing to do would be to leave while I’m otherwise occupied. Once this shit hits my system, I’m going to be a live wire. You saved me, I’ll save you, but if you’re still here when I’m done I will kill you just because you tranqed me, got it?”
When he nods, I down it. It’s fucking disgusting is what it is. Give me tequila or Pepto any day. Red Bull is seriously the worst thing I have ever tasted. I read an article somewhere that said Red Bull had bull sperm in it. Probably not the best time to be thinking about that but it couldn’t be helped. When I take my final chug I feel it coming up. Fighting it back I notice he isn’t running for the door, the idiot.
“Why are you still here?” I ask while my hands start rubbing together, my feet start tap dancing in place, and holy shit! Do I feel a case of the hypers coming on. “Leave,” I beg him, giving him one last chance, but then something starts to happen in my stomach that wasn’t a product of a sugar high. “Go now–o–wow–ow! Ow! Ahh!”
The pain in my stomach doubles me over. Red Bull doesn’t give you wings, it gives you wicked cramps. It’s a deep, visceral pain like something is tearing me apart from the inside. Folding into a ball and digging my nails into my stomach, I scream out over and over. When he kneels down next to me I can’t hear what he’s saying. I can’t hear anything beyond my own screams.
“What did you give me?” I ask, crying out.
