Brawler (45 page)

When I walk into our room I see her doing some sort of weird native dance. It’s like a cross between the kid-n-play and the cabbage patch, but she looks so fucking beautiful that I stand there and watch. She does some sort of maneuver that had her flying toward me, so I opened my arms and catch her like I should.

After her ass meets the floor I take the opportunity to tease her. My wife ain’t a klutz except around me. I like that I keep her off balance. Only seems fair since she has the same effect on me.

Dinner is good. Outside of motherfuckers staring at my wife, that is. Next time I pick out the dress, it will have a back, sleeves, and big ugly flowers on it. Who am I kidding? My wife could stop traffic in a fucking pair of MC Hammer pants and a parka. Now we’re at Boogie Fever and my wife has had two girly drinks - which is a first, seeing as I’ve never seen her drink - then ran to the dance floor. I’m content to watch her do her thing. Okay, fine, so I’m imagining her doing her thing to me, but whatever. Watching guys approach her and get shot down is fun, too. It’s pissing me off, but my wife has proven she can take care of herself, so I’m here if she needs me.

She comes to check on me often and keeps asking me to dance, but I keep telling her I’m waiting for the right song. She throws out a whatever and goes back to shaking her ass. Finally the right song comes on, which happens to be “Brick House,” because fuck you, even a white boy like me can dance to that. Moving our drinks to the middle of the table for pickup. I’ll be getting her new ones. You don’t leave your shit out for people to fuck with. I take a step to go meet her when I come face to face with Chyna Fucking Townsend.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, Rafe,” she says, slurring her words. “Who ya here with tonight?”

“Fuck off, Chyna,” I tell her, trying to go around her.

“About that,” she says, touching me, and oh shit, this ain’t good. “I think I made a mistake, Rafe.”

Here’s the thing about Macy. She’s pretty low-key until it comes to me. Once Chyna realizes Macy is behind her I have a feeling Chyna’s night will go from good to shit. My wife don’t fuck around, and truth? I can’t wait to fucking watch.

“That right?” I ask, egging her on. “What mistake would that be?”

“Letting you go,” she says. Like she’s ever had me, I think to myself. “If that psycho had you, I’m thinking I may have been hasty.”

“Chyna Fucking Townsend, hasty?” says my badass wife. “Bitch, you’re a lot of things, but hasty isn’t one of them. Step away from my husband.”

When her eyes go big she keeps looking at me for help or some shit but, I ain’t got nothing to help her with. Bitch needs to help herself on this one.

“You — you married
her
?”

“My name is Macy,” she says. “You’re one of those, huh?”

“One of those what?” she snaps, turning to my wife.

“One of those lessons that need repeating.”

“I have a restraining order out on your crazy ass!”

“Yeah? How’s that working out for ya?” she says, pushing her into a chair. “You think a restraining order will stop me? You don’t proposition my husband and think you can get away with it, do you? In my world, those words get a bitch cut.” Looking at me she starts taking off her jewelry, then says “I need you to hold this, Captain. I won’t be but a minute.”

“You are a fucking psycho!” she screams, looking for an escape. “Don’t you have a kid or something? Who acts like this! You’re someone’s mother! Stay the fuck away from me!”

Leaning in I warn her once, only once. “You’ll watch your goddamn mouth when speaking to my wife, we clear?” When she nods I look back over to my wife, who is equal parts pissed and excited.

 “I’ve got one nerve left and you’re dry humping it,” she says, getting in her face “This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me, Chyna.” Then she’s grabbing a chair, taking her hand, and sitting one on one with her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking nervous.

“I’m teaching you a lesson,” she explains. “You’re a bitch, and desperation doesn’t look good on you. If I did like you, which I don’t, I’d slap you for acting like this. I don’t think
you
even like you, so how do you expect anyone else to like you? I mean seriously, you’re pushy, skanky, and your breath is jacked. You were a straight cunt to my husband, and I have issue with that, so in an effort to be a sweetheart I’m going to leave you with this. Remember it, because I’ll only say this once. You ever come near him again, I’ll make sure you aren’t walking away from it, you get me?”

When she nods my wife releases her, and before turning to leave, tells her, “And damn straight I’ll be some kid’s mother. Now fuck off, Chyna.”

Walking into my arms she kisses me hard on the mouth. “Take me home?” she asks.

Kissing her back, I take her hand leading her out to the truck. “My brawler took a lesson from me on growing up.”

“That felt good, Captain.”

“Fuck,” I say, laughing. “From where I was, it looked even better.”

“What are the odds you’ll let me grab my tazer out of my bag and finish her off?”

“I think she’s had enough,” I laugh. “Don’t you?”

“Not really, no,” she says, serious. “She got off easy. She walked away, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, with help.”

“Pssh, whatever, she still walked away.”

“You done?”

“I’m done.”

“You did good,” I say, smiling.

“You’re
my
non-filtered mother fuckin’ husband,” she says, smiling back

“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.

N
ow, 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.