Brawler

by K. S. Adkins

  “Truth?” she asks, and I nod. “I think you are the only one she will let help her with anything.”

  With that she walks around me into the room and proceeds to reassure Macy that she’s fine. Listening to Venessa talk her down takes on a whole new meaning after what she just shared with me in the hall. She has it together all the time, so it’s bullshit? How can I tell the difference? If I think this through, hours ago she did put a .45 to my head but that was under duress … wasn’t it? She was just fighting for her life so the shock hasn’t wore off yet; that makes sense to me.

  “Jonas?” she, asks getting my attention.

  “Yeah, Princess?”

  “What do you think about this?”

  “I’m sorry?” I ask, feeling stupid for zoning out on her. “About what?”

  “Venessa said it was like she was paralyzed; she couldn’t move, but she could see and hear,” she explains. “So I have a theory about that.”

  “Let me hear it,” I say. Rogan and Venessa both pull their chairs closer to the bed so now we have her surrounded, waiting to hear what she has to say. She sits herself up and crosses her legs, and I swear you can see the gears turning in her brain. She likes figuring out puzzles; them she’s doing it right now, and Venessa was right. Briggs is already forgotten because she has a new puzzle to solve.

  “I don’t think it’s necessary to explain the design of my drug, because that isn’t what was used here,” she starts. “I believe Rohypnol was used because it’s intent is to keep someone impaired enough to be unable to fight back. They lie on the floor, eyes open, able to observe events but completely unable to move. Afterwards, memory is impaired and they cannot recall any of what happened. Venessa can remember, so I can assume with being injected that it worked quickly, but she was likely dosed wrong, and because of her size it didn’t last as long as perhaps it should have. In most cases the person is given a pill or it’s put into their drink without their knowledge; then person experiences loss of muscle control, confusion, drowsiness, and amnesia …”

  “Macy,” Rogan interrupts “Slow down.”

  “Huh?” she asks, then blinks, not realizing when she’s medicated she talks a mile a minute. “Right, okay, Rohypnol is called the date rape drug. Problem is, even if we tested your blood it’s not going to show up. It’s legal in some countries, but not here in the US, obviously. But it’s not difficult to get.” Looking at Venessa you can see her working out the details “You’re still pale. Are you sweating or feeling hot? How’s your heart rate? Is it elevated?”

  “I’m feeling better, Macy, just tired. Increased heart rate, yeah, but that may be because you were under fucking attack,” she says. “Warm or cold I can’t say, nothing I noticed one way or the other, Macy I was more focused on you.”

  “Okay, well, based on that, I suppose you may have been given a light dose. Essentially Flunitrazepam or Narcozep. Like I said, it is used to incapacitate; we’re lucky it didn’t cause convulsions and memory loss. ”

  “Jesus,” I say “You actually know this shit?”

  “Well yes, since it’s what I do.”

  “Rogan and I are trained to know this, but you have to know all this too? In detail?”

  “She isn’t just a nurse, Rafe,” says Venessa. “You did know she’s a pharmaceutical scientist, right?”

  “A what?” I ask, looking over at Rogan, who nods.

  “Nursing is something I do on the side,” she says, like it’s no big deal that she isn’t just nurse-smart, she’s fucking pharmaceutical-scientist-smart!

  “All right ,Macy,” says Rogan, bringing us back. “You got more, so hit us with it.”

  “Why use Rohypnol ,” she says. “Why not use my drug?”

  “So we’re dealing with someone with access to pharmaceuticals?” asks Rogan.

  “Well that’s just it,” she says, waving her hands, then winces and drops them. “You were given what you’d know as a ‘roofie,’ which isn’t hard to get. So we’re dealing with someone who wanted you out of the way and used Briggs to get to me. That’s my theory, and it’s not a good one, because I think someone is willing to go to a lot of trouble to get what’s in my head.”

  “Wait,” says Venessa, standing up. “I was fucking roofied?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Roofied!”

  “I’m sorry, V,” she whispers.

  “I’m not pissed at you, Macy, but seriously, I was roofied? People still use that shit?”

  “He said he was getting paid a fuckload to get what’s in my head. I think he got the Rohypnol on his own because the last time he went toe to toe with you, he lost. He never had any money, and getting it would be fairly cheap and effective. I think he planned on using it on me, but you showing up forced his hand. Whoever was paying him was probably keeping him high, too, because a year ago if you asked me if he was capable of this I’d have said no. But within the last year he’s done all sorts of despicable shit, so he was desperate, and whoever it is pulling the strings knew it.”

  Just when I was about to weigh in or smash my fist into the wall the nurse comes in to take her to her CT scan, so we all watch her go, staying quiet until it’s just the three of us again.

  “The fuck are we dealing with here?” I ask, agitated and worried.

  “Whatever the fuck it is, the only one who’s gonna figure it out just rolled down to X-ray,” says Rogan, and for once, I agree.

  The tech in charge of my CT scan was a talker. Typically people with head injuries aren’t appreciative of incessant chatter, and come to find out, I am no exception. Her name is Cathy which seems appropriate given she lacks the ability to shut the hell up, but she works quickly, for which I’m grateful. I work here, so if I were to, I don’t know? Slap her. I’m sure word would spread, so I held back.

  Heading back to the room, I’m anxious to get cleared to leave so I can sleep for the next twelve hours or so. I’m also eager to get the hell away from the doctor and the looks of pity from the other three. Now that the threat is mostly gone I see no reason not to go home, sleep in my own bed, watch my own television, and not be reminded Jonas thinks I’m a porno chick.

  As soon as we enter my suite they all stop talking, but of course they would. I’m the fragile one, remember? See, the problem is someone grabbed Rohypnol and a needle, and gave it to Briggs to incapacitate me, so despite the pain in my head I’m smart enough to know that whoever gave the order knew who Venessa was and what she was capable of. Brigg’s hadn’t expected her, why would he? She wasn’t supposed to be. I was. A cop I’m not, but I am a realist. This person or possibly persons know me, and that’s where this gets personal.

  Jonas is the first to approach me, although you can see he doesn’t know what to do with me. One look tells me he wants to touch me, but the next look he thinks better of it, and stays back. I don’t have the ability to hash this out in my head right now. I want clearance, then I want quiet, then I’m doing my own homework. Venessa has been through enough, Rogan along with her. Now Jonas looks ready to kill people and all because I had this crazy idea to design a medicine to improve another human’s quality of life. It’s insane someone would go to all this trouble for it. They think I don’t know it’s been used to subdue women for trafficking; honestly, I probably figured it out before they did. Weird shit has been going on around me, but I act oblivious when I’m far from it, which is why I’ve taken extreme measures to protect my work. Once I’m told that I’m fine but need a few days to rest that’s what I’ll do, because resting gives me time to plan.

  Venessa isn’t the only one with informants. Hello? I’m a nurse, I meet all sorts of interesting people, and if they can help me, in return their scripts may have a few extra pills. So yes, the innocent one has informants, too. Jonas opens his mouth to speak, but the doctor walks in before he can. Odd that he won’t look at anyone, including me. I’ve never known Chris to be intimidated before.

  “Your CT scan was clear,” he clips. “Here ar
e two scripts; one for pain, and an antibiotic. Follow up with your family doctor in the next forty-eight hours.” He hands them to me, and I notice his hand shaking, but before I can ask him if he’s all right, he turns and leaves, with Jonas right behind him.

  Venessa sits next to me. “Are you ready to go?” she asks, handing me scrubs.

  “Yes,” I say back. “Where is Jonas going?”

  “To sign your release,” says Rogan.

  “Okay,” I say. “If you don’t mind dropping me on your way home?”

  “You’re not staying with Rafe?” Venessa asks, leering at me, and it’s a look I’m getting sick of.

  “No,” I say firm. “With Briggs gone, I’ll be fine. I just need to be home with my own bed, computer and —”

  “What is your problem?” demands Venessa.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Angel …” warns Rogan.

  “I asked what your problem was,” she begins, ignoring him. “You run from Rafe’s again, only this time back to your fucking house which you knew wasn’t safe, and then proceeded to get beat down and almost ra—”

  “Angel, enough,” says Rogan, pulling her back.

  “No,” I say, standing up. “Let her finish, I really want to hear what Kharma has to say about this.”

  “You know what I’m going to say.” She sneers at me. “What the fuck were you thinking? How could you do that to him, and to us?”

  “You’re fucking joking, right?” I laugh, getting in her face. “This coming from the girl who had her fucking living will drawn up in front of her man, whom she left to go after the man trying to kill her? I’m sorry, aren’t you that girl?”

  “I came for you,” she screams in my face, and it’s then I see Jonas reentering the room.

  “You did come for me,” I say quietly. “I just did the same fucking thing for you. Don’t put this whole thing on me, Venessa. Briggs was coming and we both know it was only a matter of when. How do you think I felt when I found you on my goddamn kitchen floor? That son of a bitch hurt you, because of me. All of this bullshit happening is because of me. You get to run around fighting crime on your own fucking terms, but I can’t? Well, fuck that! You keep preaching I’m not some helpless whelp, yet it’s you that thinks the only thing I’m capable of is running to you for help.”

  She takes a step back, looking from Rogan to me. “I don’t think that,” she says. “I never thought that, Macy. I don’t want any more blood on your hands. You don’t deserve —”

  “I’ve been coated it in for years now, same as you, remember? We’ve been a team since the beginning,” I reply. “It never goes away, Venessa, and you know that as well as I do. He hurt you, he’s gone now. Are we going to stand here and argue, or are we going to finish this?”

  “You both need time to heal,” adds Rogan. “The team is on a break until further notice.”

  “Of course it is,” is my response as I grab the scrubs left for me, then look for my shoes but realize I don’t even have my own shoes here, either.

  “Macy,” Venessa says, sitting next to me. “Don’t be pissed at me, please. You are capable, you’ve been capable since we were kids, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be capable all the time. You can come to me, yeah?”

  Looking over at her, I lose it. “Save it,” I growl. “I came to you about Briggs and he could have easily fucking killed you. I didn’t ask you to do it alone. You did it without caring what I thought because you didn’t see me as capable; you saw me as damaged. We should have done it together. You have as much bullshit in your life as I do mine, yet I always support you one hundred percent, no questions. You claim we’re equals, but when its crunch time you leave me out. You all do,” I say, looking around.

  “Macy,” starts Rogan.

  “No,” says Jonas joining the fun. “She’s right, we do. But it’s because you’re not cut out for this, and it’s because we care about you.”

  “Is that right?” I ask with a smile. “When were you all going to share what my drug was being used for? When were you going to share you had Jonas following me without my permission? When were any of you going to share that you are each sitting there waiting for me to fucking crack? Guess what? Not going to fucking happen. Each one of you is as fucked up as I am. Some of you more than others,” I say glancing to Venessa and Jonas. “When were any of you going to come out and say what you’re really thinking? Because of me, because of what I created this nightmare is on your doorstep. All of this bullshit is my goddamn fault. I created a drug that is being used for evil instead of good. Because you think I’m a child, you kept me in the dark assuming I didn’t know, when I fucking knew. Why don’t the Three Musketeers think on that while I’m gone? I’m out.”

  Pushing past Venessa, I do exactly that. Bare feet and all, I march my sassy ass right to the elevator and down to reception, feeling like a fucking fool.

  Clearly the shit has hit the fan, and we’re all covered in it. We ganged up on her like a bunch of assholes. Hours ago she took a man’s life, minutes ago she was cleared to go home, and seconds ago we told her she wasn’t enough. Actually, I told her she wasn’t enough again.

  Rogan was the first to speak, which I have to admit is taking some getting used to. He’s a regular know-it-all these days, and fuck if he doesn’t make sense, too.

  “Gotta ask what the fuck is the matter with you two,” he says, eyeing both of us but starts with Venessa. “She didn’t deserve that, any of that, and not fucking here, either.” Looking at me, he says, “That’s your woman, right?” I nod, and he says, “Thought so, fucking shame you didn’t back your woman considering she was right, and was so fucking hurt she walked outta here without shoes on.”

  “I’ll go get her,” says Venessa.

  “No,” I say, walking toward the door. “I’ll go get her.”

  Turns out I didn’t have to go far, because she was stuck at the elevator and none too pleased to be talking with the good doctor. Walking up while trying to suppress my rage at seeing him touching her, I push past him to take up her right side.

  “Need something, Doc?”

  “I’m confused, Detective.” He smiles. “What is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Kowalski? Because you brought her here, yet here she is leaving … without shoes.”

  “Time for you to go, Doc,” I growl. “Or can I borrow your pen and we can exchange numbers? You know, in case I need to reach you.”

  Looking at Macy, he takes the hint. “You know how to reach me, Macy,” he says. “Day or night.” Then he walks away having the last word. Fuck, I hate when people do that.

  “Where you headed, Princess?” I ask, pulling her to me.

  “Home.” she says simply.

  “My truck is downstairs,” I tell her. “We’ll stop and get something to eat on the way.”

  “My home, Jonas,” she whispers.

  “Your home is a crime scene,” I explain, and she wouldn’t be going there even if it wasn’t. “Told you before, I won’t let you go easy, Princess. Come on, we have some things to talk about.” Without protest, she lets me lead her to the elevator, through the lobby, and into my truck.

  Being stuck at an elevator shoeless wasn’t a high point for me; one of the few things I have is my pride. Smacking the button wasn’t making the damn thing move any faster, either, so my options were wait here or take the steps. Obviously, I waited, and as luck would have it, Dr. Shinn took the opportunity to approach me. Clearly, the guys intimidated him, though I think it’s more than that, but if it is, he isn’t saying. He’s yapping about his worry for me, letting me know he’s here for me, and that I should reconsider his offer and that it’s still on the table.

  Before I can answer him and before the damn elevator pinged to let me know my escape is here, Jonas is stalking us from down the hall, and is between the doctor and me in a flash. Instantly Chris tensed up, then found his voice, but then Jonas did, too. His tone was one I hadn’t heard before, and if I wasn’t sans s
hoes in oversized scrubs, my knees might have buckled. With the good doctor gone, Jonas pulls me to him, taking me into the elevator.

  Telling him I want to go home does shit considering my home is now a crime scene, so my only option is Jonas again. When we clear the lobby doors I’m swept off my bare feet, literally, as he carries me to his truck. Setting me down carefully, he buckles my belt and our faces are inches apart. Wanting to sink my hands in his thick hair, I stop myself because I remember he doesn’t really want me the way I want him, and that fucking hurts worse than my head or my back.

  “Jonas,” I whisper, looking him in the eyes. “I want —”

  “Macy!” yells Dr. Shinn, breaking the moment. “You forgot your scripts.”

  Closing my eyes and turning my head, I’ve had it. I have fucking had it! Working up the courage to tell Jonas I still wanted him even if he didn’t want me was so damn hard, then just like that, I’m cut off. Wanting to scream at Dr. Shinn for this interruption is on my tongue, but as usual, Jonas surprises me. Grabbing the slip of paper out of his hand, he gets right in Chris’ face.

  “You’re off duty, Doc,” he growls. “Now fuck off.” Not knowing what else to do, Chris looks at Jonas, but settles on me.

  “Remember what I said.” Then he walks away.

  “Princess,” he says, after buckling his own belt. “Look at me.” So I do. “What were you going to say?”

  Thinking on my bare feet I mutter, “Thank you,” losing my nerve. “I wanted to say thank you.”

  “For coming for you?” he asks, with his eyebrow raised.

  “Yes,” I say, looking out the window. “And for staying with me.”

  “We were wrong,” he blurts out, and I turn to look at him. “Venessa and me, we were wrong. You’re strong, maybe even too strong for me, and one way or another I’m gonna make you need me back, Princess.”

  When I’m mute, he keeps going while we drive back “Never met anyone like you,” he starts. “You’re so fucking smart, polite, and beautiful, it fucks with a man’s head. Fucks with my head. I have shit to offer you and no matter what I say, I hurt you. I hurt you so much I made you run away from me; that’s on me. Tell me what the fuck I can do to make you run to me.” Still unable to comprehend what’s happening he continues on, “I don’t expect you to trust me easily, but when Rogan asked me to follow you, it’s what I wanted to do, Princess. The second I saw you I’d have done anything to be close to you. If you wanna be pissed at someone, be pissed at me. They told me to leave you alone; I didn’t listen, I couldn’t listen. What we signed up for is dangerous; I can’t fucking stomach thinking of you hurt. Tell me you get that.”