Brawler

by K. S. Adkins

  “You’re my klutzy brawler.”

  Taking her hand, we leave together. Proud of her for holding her drinks down, too - she’s a lightweight, after all. On the way to valet she tripped twice, but that may have been because I was tripping her on purpose so I’d have a reason to catch her. If there’s a reason to touch her, I’m gonna find it.

  I’ll tell you one thing, life with Jonas will never be ordinary. Now that I’m pretty much back in the saddle we both decided to never take another day for granted. We’ve been going to the range together, going for walks together, and today he took me back to the flyhouse for an aerial class and only fell off the lira twice. We decided to not hit the club scene for a while, which we both thought was for the best. It gets better for both of us day by day. He doesn’t hide things from me for my “safety” anymore, either. Each time the four of us discuss the team and getting answers to this shit happening here, he not only includes me, they all do.

  Jules and Max seemed to have reached an understanding, but neither will say exactly what that understanding is. Max longs for her, you can see it. In all the years I’ve known him, I have never once seen him with another woman. Now I know why. Jules, though, you can’t normally get a read on, but if I’m seeing this right she wants her husband too, but something is holding her back.

  Venessa and Rogan are planning their wedding, but every time he tries to get her to settle on a date, something comes up. Like tonight, for instance, each of us wondered what happened to the Captain. Having had enough of being, ignored the boys went to the station yesterday only to find out he’d had a heart attack. Apparently, he wasn’t big on any of us knowing or “babying his ass” about it.

  The four of us just left the Mercury Bar and decided to pay the man a visit whether he liked it or not. If my family has taught me anything, it’s that you never leave a man behind. Even if that man is presently yelling at us for getting in his space. The nurse in me couldn’t help but notice he’s very pale and drawn. So leaving him with the boys, I went to reception to see what meds he was prescribed, and based on what I’m seeing, the man had a serious heart attack.

  When I come back into the room all eyes are on me. Reaching his hand out the Cap calls me over. Sitting on Jonas’ lap I lay my head on his shoulder. “You hanging in there?” he asks.

  “I am,” I say. “Every day, I’m getting better.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he says. “Rafe tells me your lab partner was a piece of shit. Can’t say I’m sorry we didn’t get to book ̓em. Knowing he ain’t breathing works for me too, though.”

  “You know this isn’t over, Cap.”

  “Not even close,” he says. “But you’re onto something, Macy. Putting your research in someone else’s hands was smart, but you’ve still got what they’re looking for up there,” he says, touching my temple.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “I still feel that target on my back, but I’ve got three solid warriors to watch it for me.”

  “Make that four,” he says. “It’s gonna take more than a heart attack to kill me, little one.”

  “Actually,” I explain, “a heart attack can kill you, so you’re going to listen to your medical staff and take what needs to be taken, and no more trips for Coney. I’ll be checking on you too, Cap, so don’t think you’re going to pull one over on me.”

  “Well, shit,” he says, smiling at me. “I was hoping to see Jules. Where’s she hiding?”

  “In plain sight,” says Jonas. “Hope your heart can take this news, Cap. She and Max are married.”

  “They got married and I wasn’t invited? When was this? Hell, I ain’t been in here that long.”

  “They’ve been married just over eight years, according to Max,” says Venessa. “That’s some shit, yeah?”

  “The man needs his rest,” says Rogan, changing the subject. “You need anything, you call, got it?”

  “I ain’t called you yet, have I? Go. Diane will be back in the morning. When I get outta here, we’ll talk next steps. Until that happens, you watch your backs, hear me?”

  In unison we all agree. Saying our goodbyes we exit, get back in Rogan’s truck, and get dropped off at home. Changing into more comfortable clothes it feels strange not having anything to study for, no puzzles to figure out, and nothing pressing to do. I still want to know who number three was, and I want to know who was pulling Ben’s strings. The threat is still out there, but whoever it is, I know they must be feeling the pressure, because we’re getting closer. I can feel it.

  When we do find him there won’t be any place he can hide; that’s a fucking promise. Until then, I’ve got my husband, family, and friends, and for me it’s enough. It’s more than enough, it’s just … everything. I still have my moments where I struggle with guilt over being happy, but I’m getting there. I have a husband who makes me laugh. With him I can find my way through anything.

  When it’s all said and done, I didn’t fall for the guy who says all the right things. I fell for the guy who does all the right things. That, ladies and gentleman, is my husband.

  Now, now, now, it’s not over. I know, it’s hard to see me go, but listen, we still got crime to fight. My wife needs some downtime. She’s been through a lot. I’d like her to myself for a while before we get the team active again. Venessa and Rogue need their shot at getting married, and Jules and Max? Okay, well, who the fuck knows what’s going on there, but they have a story, too.

  We know there are bigger players in this game. We know the pieces of shit we took down so far were pawns, so we ain’t giving up, but we do need time to regroup. Detroit is a big city. Cleaning these streets is gonna take time. Rogue and me decided on the downlow to try and find Gallo, since that guy knows everything. So far, though, nothing.

  Detroit is worth saving. We got plans to do that, too. The thing is, just a couple hours ago, I got word that number three was a cop. Was, meaning he was let go, as in fired. So now we gotta work that lead and see how the fuck a cop - again - turned his back on what’s right to fuck with what’s wrong. My wife ain’t gonna take that well, so she’s gonna need some time to deal with it.

  Keeping our women safe is job one. I still struggle with the anger I feel over failing my wife. My wife has more good days then bad, and she gives me oral sex every chance she gets. Okay, fine, I ask her to give me oral sex every chance I get, but whatever.

  All right, fine. She’ll deal with it like she always does, head on. It’s me that needs time. Most people never have to worry about their safety. Most don’t even give it a second thought. That ain’t an option for us. Our women got targets on their backs, and we got a serious problem with that.

  You may not live here, but no doubt you only hear the bad. Remember this and pay attention. You got bad everywhere.

  Enough of that, though. I wanna tell you something. No doubt my wife is easy to love, right? She’s been through more than most, and still finds a reason to smile. I’m gonna do everything I can to make those dreams I had come true and make my wife smile every day. If she ain’t smiling it’s because her mouth is full. Okay, fine, I still talk some shit from time to time, but that’s all it is, shit.

  My wife is good to me; she gets me flaws and all. So good she come home from “shopping” with Venessa (and there were no fights or bail demands to my disappointment), walks into the kitchen, and drops her pants. When I walk over to take her shirt off she smacks my hands and says “I don’t want to have sex!” When I started to pout she smiles and says, “Right now.”

  So I ask her, “The hell are you dropping your pants for, then? Where I come from people drop their pants, and those people usually get f —”

  “Shut up, Captain,” she says, pulling up her shirt slowly.

  Peeling the bandage back, I am confused. She’s healed up, so when I see the bandage I get worried. “Princess?” I ask her. “You okay?”

  “Take my bandage off, Captain.”

  When I peel if off slowly I see the most beautiful tattoo ever inked into s
kin. A small set of angel wings with the initials MJ cover her scar. Grabbing her hand I march her right back out the door, tell her to direct me to the artist, and when she gets quiet I look over and she asks me, “You’re not going to kick his ass, are you?”

  Laughing, I take her hand tell her straight. “No, I ain’t kicking his ass, Princess. I want one that matches.”

  “Oh,” she says smiling, then leads me where I need to go.

  Every first that ever mattered or will matter begins and ends with my wife. We do things our way, always will. When we do have more kids, they’ll be like both of us, and fucking loved. My partner once told me the biggest gap in any relationship is a misunderstanding. Yeah, I ain’t kidding he actually said that shit. My partner is a wise man, and in this, he’s right. Macy and me had our fair share of misunderstandings. Hell our entire relationship was filled with them, but we’ll fight for each other and our marriage because for us, that’s what it’s all about.

  Because in life you fight. If you don’t, what the hell else you got? Macy ain’t ever had it easy, but I’m hoping to make it that way. No matter what happens it’s good to know she’s got my back and I got hers. Shit, I mean, after all, I’m the guy who married a brawler.

  Ever wonder what tracks inspired an author’s story? Well, here’s mine. I couldn’t write without music. Shit, I couldn’t exist without music.

  If you know anything about me, it’s all about Eminem.

  Every fucking time.

  My playlist, check it:

  Beautiful Pain by Eminem ft Sia

  Starting Over by Kill Switch Engage

  Apologize by Timbaland ft One Republic

  Cocky by Kid Rock

  All Fired Up by Pat Benatar

  Seconds by Ghost Loft

  Act Right by Yo Gotti ft Jeezy

  Backstreet Freestyle by Kendrick Lamar

  Tronic by Black Milk

  Bad Girls by MIA

  Better Man by James Morrison

  Chop Suey! By System Of A Down

  Fearless by Pink Floyd

  Obedear by Purity Ring

  W.T.P by Eminem

  For Your Precious Love by Otis Redding

  Girl With The Tattoo by Miguel

  Heaven Nor Hell by Volbeat

  Sabotage by The Beastie Boys

  Sanctified by Rick Ross

  Times Like These by The Foo Fighters

  Unfuckwittable by Kid Cudi

  Fuck Me Pumps by Amy Winehouse

  Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus

  Fuck You by Lilly Allen

  You Know You’re Right by Nirvana

  1940 by The Submarines

  K.S. Adkins is a full time everything. When I'm not wifing, mothering or being bossy; I'm reading, writing or shooting. A full time Realtor, life long Michigander and all around lover of all things guns and Detroit. I believe in freedom of foul language, gratuitous nudity, tattoos and mosh pits. I've recently taken up drinking wine and feel like I'm really making progress with it. I think my chances at finding a place within the romance genre is 50/50 but I suck at numbers so what do I know?

  My stories are written with heavy dialogue and are Detroit based. If you don't like heavy dialogue or Detroit don't read my stories. My characters are typically dark and fairly fucked up so if you want sappy characters without issues, don't read my stories.

  I love violence, guns, blood, naughty words, awkward sex, rap, metal and untraditional people. Every fight scene was tried and tested by me, I have the bruises to prove it too.

  I write romance but my characters are not romantic, each is a work in progress. My stories are about strong women and the alphas who try to tame them but never do.

  At the end of the day you may not like my stories, you may also think I suck as an author and that's okay, but I have to tell you I had the best fucking time writing them and for me that's what it's all about.

  I love new likes so hit me up on Facebook at K.S. Adkins and let me know if you loved it or hated it ♥