Berserk

by K. S. Adkins

  “I didn’t learn how to ride a bike until I was twelve. Anita let me borrow one of her kids’ bikes and taught me when Hank was out of town. I never rode a bike again. I just wanted to be able to say that I could. The first time I went to a party I met a girl named Jill, asked her to dance, and broke her baby toe. The day I left, I took all of the money I’d saved and bought a bike. Leaving West Bloomfield, I jumped on I75 and rode straight to Detroit. Not knowing where to go or what to do, just knowing I had to come back again, I saw this redheaded knockout walking alone down Michigan Avenue in the middle of the night. You know what happens next , but what you don’t know is that I was terrified.”

  Taking a deep breath and wishing she would wake up, I keep going. “You were so tiny. When you got on my bike it was the happiest night of my life. I barely knew how to ride with just me, but you weighed next to nothing, so you made it easy. Everything with you is easy, Blue. I’m the one that made it difficult, and I am so fucking sorry for that. Sorry isn’t enough. You deserve more, deserve better, but I can’t lose you again. If I could go back I’d do things right, but we’ve got right now, and I’ve got forever open on my planner if you’re free. If memory serves I still owe you a ride on my bike.”

  When her finger twitches again I decided to change the topic. “Rogan tells me that the unknown was hired to hurt you. He also said outside of keeping you sedated he didn’t do more while he had you, but Blue, I can’t forgive him for what’s he’s done. I have no respect for a man who would hurt a woman, especially when she’s my woman for any amount of money. As soon as you’re up, I’ll be paying him a visit.”

  Switching arms because mine is going numb, I take her hand with my left, refusing to let go. “Saint and Jumbo are good guys, Blue. They love you so much; they all do. Duffy is in a bad way right now, so when you come to take it easy on him, all right? Do you want me to play some music for you? I have a few songs on my phone; let me see what I’ve got.” Opening my play list I scroll down mumbling my options. I don’t think I have anything that she likes.

  “Okay so your choices are Maroon 5, Billy Joel, Bob Seger, The Avett Brothers, John Legend, or I’m embarrassed to admit, One Direction, but before you knock them you should give them serious consideration.”

  Glancing up I’m caught off guard when I see her looking back at me and that she’s smiling. “I love One Direction,” she says quietly. “But if you tell the guys, I’ll have to sing for you.”

  “Blue,” I whisper, leaning in to be as close to her face as possible. Touching the sides of her face with the backs of my hands, she leans in to my touch.

  “Hi, Max.”

  “How do you feel? Are you in pain? Can I get the nurse? Talk to—”

  “Shh, how are you?” When I don’t answer, she whispers to me and when my eyes close in pain, she asks, “You know, don’t you?”

  Taking a deep breath, I answer truthfully. “Not so good, Blue. Not so good at all. Yeah, I know.”

  “You didn’t do this, Max,” she tells me. “I’m okay, and I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t. You’ll never know how sorry. I just didn’t want to hurt you over something that couldn’t be changed.”

  Needing to wipe my eyes, I take my hand back. When I reach for her hand again she has it out in front of her face, looking at her ring finger.

  “I may have taken advantage of your condition and reclaimed you in your sleep.”

  Looking over at me and extending her hand, I wrap mine in hers. “The doctor says you will be released in the next day or two. When they clear you, tell me you’ll come back home?”

  Her eyes fill up, her hand starts to shake, and just as she’s ready to answer me, her door bursts open and her team makes their usual entrance. Duffy is the first to come to her side, followed by Bishop. Jumbo and Saint taking up space at the end of her bed, and I feel like an intruder. But as I try to disengage her hand she holds tighter, refusing to let me leave.

  Even in a hospital bed she shields me.

  “I get my own helmet?” she asks, trying it on. “It even fits!”

  “Even though you’re safe with me, I want you protected in case something happens.”

  “Because you love me?”

  “That, and because I can’t live without you.”

  That day when we toured the city, I had the most beautiful woman on the back of my bike. In my mirrors I could see her flaming red hair blowing behind her and knew for at least once in my life, I was in the right place at the right time.

  He’s withdrawing because he feels out of place with my team now, maybe even with me now. I call bullshit, and if Max wants me, then we’re a package deal. Before they all start talking at once I see how they look at Max and me; they get it. The guys know what he means to me, and they’ve accepted him, too.

  Duffy is the first to speak up, but he doesn’t actually speak at all. Leaning over me he surrounds my head and starts sobbing. He’s saying he’s sorry over and over, and the sobs are racking his body.

  “Duffy,” I whisper. “Look at me.” Bringing his head up, his eyes meet mine, and with my free hand I cup his face. “I’m not angry.” He closes his eyes and starts sobbing all over again. I’m at a loss at what to do. My guys don’t cry.

  Bishop pulls him away, sits next to me, and gives me his usual encouraging words. “Glad you ain’t dead, Boss,” he says, getting choked up, then looks over at Max and finishes. “Real glad.”

  Jumbo, the least talkative of the bunch, squeezes my toes and his rare act of affection makes me smile. “Only you could get taken by two men and have them both fall for you. Seriously, Red, who taught you that shit?”

  Giggling, I look at Max, who looks sad. “They didn’t fall for me,” I explain. “They fell into a bad scene, is all. They wanted a way out.”

  “Yeah,” says Saint. “Rogue and Rafe are giving the one breathing a real serious workout. That Venessa broad? That guy is more scared of her then them, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Guys,” I begin. “The cop I shot was ordered to draw. The first cop who held me was named Travis Walker; look him up. The second guy was a cop, too. Average cops, needing the money, and was told I was the enemy. When I asked who brought them in they both told me I already know the answer to that.”

  “The DPD is that fucked?”

  “Looks that way,” I say. “When I get outta here we’ll meet about it. Talk next steps.”

  “Max,” says Jumbo, grinning. “Who taught you to shoot like that?”

  “Shoot?” I ask looking around at everyone grinning.

  “Yeah,” says Saint. “Mad Max here walked in, saw that cop holding you, and without even aiming shot the fucker in the shoulder.”

  “It was beautiful,” says Bishop pretending to cry “Our little Max is growing up.”

  “It was a lucky shot.” Says Duffy smiling too.

  “You shot him in the shoulder?”

  “I wanted him to let go of you,” he says, looking down. “So I shot him.”

  “Told you, you were a natural,” I say, squeezing his hand. “How did it feel?”

  “Good,” he says, squeezing back. “Real good.”

  “Boss met her fucking match,” says Saint. “Pretty pissed we didn’t get to know you sooner, Max, but it’s all good now.”

  Clearing his throat, Bishop announces that I need my rest and clears the room. After dozens of kisses and promises to see me soon, they leave and I have him all to myself again, for now anyway.

  “Does what you do ever keep you up night?”

  Cocking her head to the side, she shakes it and says, “No, I do what I do so you can sleep at night.”

  “I don’t sleep when you’re away,” I confess. “And I won’t sleep sound until you’re home.”

  “Soon,” she promises.

  “Soon,” I repeat, pulling her close, wondering exactly what it is that she does but too terrified to ask. That’s what cowards do, nothing. She is here now; there is plenty of time to ask her later.<
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  Macy told me the crew is at my place trashing it. Not that I care even a little bit; I’m not leaving her side ever again. She spent the rest of the day and night sleeping on and off, and when the doctor comes in he says she is doing well and could be released in the morning as long as she had supervision. Of course I volunteer, not giving her a choice. She didn’t argue with me, which surprises me considering she is the worst patient I’ve ever seen, and that’s after witnessing how horrible Bishop was. Being confined to a bed does not suit her. When she isn’t ordering the staff around she is on her phone checking in with everyone and demanding I go home to shower and sleep.

  I of course, refused telling her to zip it and that she wasn’t getting rid of me. She’s rolled her eyes at me so many times I’ve lost count. The only time she’s vulnerable is when she asks me to help her to the bathroom. Hearing her cry out or moan kills me. But when she walks back out her mask of invincibility is right back on her face.

  When her gray phone rings she tightens up asking me to hand to hand it to her. Answering it her responses were short like “Yes sir,” “No sir,” and “I understand, sir”

  Ending the call she looks over at me, giving me the news. “I have to go back.”

  “When?”

  “Two days.”

  “The team?”

  “Leaves with me.”

  “What happens when you go back?”

  “I’ve never broke protocol,” she explains. “So a few things could happen; I could be suspended, fired, or thrown in jail, just to name a few.”

  “You could go to jail?” I ask, jumping up and pacing the room. “Did you know that was a possibility when you came here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you did it anyway?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “For you,” is her answer, and even though her sacrifice touches me, somewhere deep I’m still furious she would jeopardize her career like that.

  “Then I’m going with you.”

  “You can’t,” she says calmly. “I knowingly took a job that was personal. In doing so, I also brought my team in without consent from my superiors. I broke a lot of rules, and most likely invented a few in the process. When they ask me for evidence I won’t have it. When they call the Captain to verify my interference here, he will turn on me if he wasn’t the one who tipped them off in the first place. I’ll take full responsibility so my team still has a job to come back to. They will likely be assigned a new team leader unless they offer the position to Duffy, which is what I would do.”

  “You risked everything for me,” I growl at her. “Was it worth it?”

  Dead in the eyes, without blinking, she answers me, “Yes, it was worth it.”

  “Fuck,” I yell. “Even after I told you I didn’t want you, that I used you, that you were a mistake! You stayed anyway! You should have left!”

  “I couldn’t,” she says calmly. “You needed me, so I stayed. Simple.”

  “I wanted you to leave!”

  “No,” she says, looking me dead in the eyes again. “You didn’t.”

  Before I can shake sense into her the nurse walks in pushing a wheelchair handing her the discharge papers she needs to sign. Minutes after that I am pushing her down the hall, into the elevator, and helping her into my car. Nothing I can say will justice do what I am feeling. Nothing. Her world is not one I’m familiar with. She has all these rules and orders to follow, and she ignored them for me. She went against everything she knew, was taught, to save my ass.

  Putting the ring back on her finger seemed the answer to everything. Until she told me at best she’d lose her job, at worst she’d see jail time. Meanwhile, I still have the security of my club, but she’s hung out to dry. Driving back to my place, I glance at her and see her twirling the ring around her finger just like I did. Here I thought I had a chance at having her back; turns out the government was going to be the one to take her away. How the fuck does someone take on the government? You don’t, but for once I can do the right thing, and that’s save her for the right reasons.

  “Give them everything you had on me and Hank,” I demand. “The club, the drugs, girls, everything.”

  “Can’t do that, Max,” she says, staring out the window.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because, I destroyed it,” she says, looking right at me. “I destroyed all of it.”

  Helping her from the car into the house, the second I open the door it is chaos. Everyone wants a minute of her time. Seeing an opportunity, I take it. Heading out back I sit alone on my picnic table, hoping for a miracle.

  Since nothing ever goes my way, I don’t get a miracle. What I did get is a visit from Duffy. He explains that the man who held her captive, tranqed her, and almost killed her is sitting on my couch, talking to my wife, and he is wondering what I was going to do about that. For once I didn’t have to think it through. Standing up, ripping my new door off its hinges, I go into my living room and decide killing him is exactly what I needed. I still haven’t had five minutes to talk to her about the pregnancy, let alone her fucking leaving again. Now I’ve got the prick who hurt her in my house? Game the fuck on.

  “You’ve got the tits of a teenager,” he says, staring.

  “Oh shut the fuck up.” I laugh, covering myself. “This is why I dress away from you perverts.”

  “Boss,” he says, pouting. “Have you seen your tits?”

  “Say tits to her one more time and I’m going to crush you,” says Jumbo, tossing me a towel.

  “Thanks,” I say, covering up.

  “Detroit, eh?” asks Saint. “You don’t look like a Detroiter.”

  “Yeah? What does a Detroiter look like?”

  “Unemployed,” laughs Bishop when Duffy hits him upside the head.

  “Don’t knock her city like that, asshole,” he says, showing him his fists. “Your ass is from Duluth.” When Saint cracks a smile Duffy outs him, too. “What are you smilin’ at? You hail from Cleveland.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Cleveland,” he defends.

  “Ain’t nothin’ right with it, either,” says Bishop, dropping his towel. Covering my eyes, I focus on Duffy. “Where are you from?”

  “Me?” he asks, grinning. “I’m from Dallas.” Then he flexes his muscles. “Texas does everything big.”

  “And you, Jumbo? Where’s home for you?” I ask him.

  “Home is wherever they say it is.”

  The cop’s name is Eric Young, he’s twenty-six years old, and joined the DPD straight out of the military to make a difference and a few bucks with the skills he’d learned. Turns out making less than thirty grand a year was tough to survive on, and when he was offered a simple job of keeping an eye on me for a large sum of money, he took it. He explained he had no idea he would be asked to harm me, and knowing they were watching he put on a good show to keep them off his back until he could do otherwise. I believe him.

  When he told me it was Hank who had contacted him just for surveillance, I believed him then, too. According to Eric, Hank was working with other cops as well. Most of them were rookies needing the money, but Eric was confident Hank was taking his cues from someone higher up. Higher up in the DPD to be exact, and Eric had a problem with that.

  I have a problem with that, too.

  He also asked to be released of his assignment, and was told no. That if he chose to walk away, he’d wake up dead. Not an exciting prospect for anyone, I imagine. Asking him how his shoulder was, he assures me that it’s fine, and asks how I am. Shrugging it off, I tell him I’ve had worse, and ask him how far he was willing to take this. Because unless they know something we don’t, as far as they’re concerned Eric still has me or he’s very dead. When I was admitted to the hospital it was under false credentials. That’s how it’s done, because it works.

  When I suggested myself as bait a few things happen I am in no way prepared for. First being everyone in the room including Eric protests. Second, I hea
r a loud crash followed by Bishop and Saint being knocked to the floor, which leaves me to the third thing… Max attacking Eric with ferocity that in all my years in service, in every battle I’ve participated in and every raid I ran I have never seen anything like what I was seeing now.

  Rafe lifts me off the couch in one swoop, leaving me with Macy and Venessa. Then Max’s living room becomes the WWE Smackdown, Detroit Edition.

  You have Rogan and Rafe holding my guys back, telling them this was Max’s fight and his right to defend his wife. After a few minutes of arguing with each other they all stand back, letting Max and Eric have it out. Now that’s not entirely fair, Max’s shoulder is still healing so he’s favoring his left arm. Whereas Eric was literally just shot by Max in his right shoulder, so they are both fighting as lefties. Only Eric wasn’t really fighting at all; mostly he was trying to stay on his feet. He uses every move, every tactic, every dirty trick I taught him. My chest puffs up; I am so proud of him. It isn’t until Venessa of all people chimes in that I realize this may have gone too far. But come on, I’m on pain meds, and this is fucking awesome. My man is sticking up for me. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

  “Uh, Red,” she says. “Didn’t we decide we believed Eric?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Maybe you could call Max off before he kills him, yeah?”

  “You don’t think Eric deserves just a little bit of this?” I ask her. “He did shoot Bishop, attack me several times, and tranq my ass. Just because I believe him doesn’t mean I’m not still pissy about it.”

  “This is getting you off, isn’t it? Jesus, you’re puffed up like a peacock.”

  “Of course it is,” I tell her. “He’s fucking hot when he goes all berserk.”

  “Ew.”

  “Whatever,” I say. Then Max lands a nasty shot to his face, and that’s when I decided enough is enough. “Fine, I’ll handle it, you big baby.”

  Putting my fingers between my lips I let out a sharp whistle. “Enough,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. In truth, I had a huge smile on my face. In a show of support the guys break from their makeshift fighting circle, then Rogan and Rafe take a severely beaten Eric to the kitchen followed by my guys calming down a seriously pissed-off Maxwell.