Chapter 21 Max
MAX
Funny how it never stops hurting.
To get the undeniable confirmation that I’m, once again, infantilized. That I’m still Max, who doesn’t know a thing. Who is incompetent, too naive, and trusting for his own good.
And maybe they are right because it was gullible and terribly dumb of me to think I have a place at their table.
I’m so fucking tired of everyone ignoring my skills and qualifications just because I am the way I am.
“Can I be part of the discussion about me, or do you assholes want to continue going over my head? Wanna start deciding when I’m allowed to take a shit too, or are my career and my private life enough?”
“Tone it down a little,” Logan says, giving me a look that makes me want to rip everyone’s head off until this building is nothing more than a fancy graveyard.
“Fuck you,” I hiss, swatting his hand away when he tries to put it on my arm.
“Max, let me explain. Screaming insults at each other won’t get us anywhere,” Rockwell says, and after taking a deep breath, I turn around to face him.
“And fuck you, too.”
His and Sam’s eyes widen in shock, but Rockwell’s expression quickly turns into anger. Too bad I won’t let him voice it.
“I’m so close to being done with all of you.
Congratulations, really. Takes a fuckin’ lot.
One last time: I am an adult. If I want to fuck around with Cabrera, then I’m going to do it.
My personal decisions don’t impact my ability to perform on the battlefield in any way, shape, or form, so I would appreciate it if you guys keep your goddamn noses out of my business. Thank you.”
Upon seeing a half-empty bottle of beer standing on the balcony railing, I walk out there and down it in one go.
Yelling always makes my throat scratchy, which isn’t optimal because I’ve got plenty more to say.
Unfortunately, the other men took my short break as an invitation to open their damn mouths.
“Shut up,” I say, stalking back inside Red’s office. “I’m talking, and you’re going to listen. Since we’re already at it, why not air all our dirty laundry at once? Stop excluding me.”
“We’re not excluding you, Max. Some things are just—“ Sam tries to reason but stops himself to glance over at Rockwell in search of approval.
“Oh, you fucking do. What’s with that secret club of yours? You, Rockwell, and Charlie. Did you find a new shared hobby or something? I doubt you guys are planning a surprise birthday party for me because my birthday was a month ago, and who would have thought, you assholes forgot it.”
“I didn’t,” Logan mumbles next to me.
“Sergeant Vaughn, you need to shut your trap for a second to let me explain,” Rockwell barks. “And if you refuse, I’ll have the others restrain you. I’m too old for this shit.”
Somehow, his tone of voice is enough to make me follow his command.
Rockwell pulls out a chair, running his fingers through his beard once he sits down. Just as he opens his mouth to start talking, his phone rings, and his brows furrow.
“You’re on speaker, Charlie. What is it?”
I don’t need to hear a word from Hunter to know it’s bad.
“You have to come back— fuck, Logan’s going to kill me,” Charlie mutters, the connection breaking every few syllables.
“Sanders caught Lily. Down by the cells.”
Moments later, all of us are screaming into the phone as if we could change anything by being loud enough.
“Where is she now?” Logan says after snatching the phone out of Rockwell’s hand.
“Right in front of me,” Charlie answers, sounding close to throwing up. “He grabbed her, refuses to hand her over. I tried to intervene, Logan, really, I promise, but he keeps on telling me to leave. What am I supposed to do?” Charlie whispers the last words, and my stomach churns.
Logan stalks through the room, phone still in hand and looking like he’s close to punching a hole in the wall. Sam and Rockwell aren’t much help either, so it seems like the incompetent one has to take care of it. What a surprise.
I take the phone from Logan and walk over to the balcony to give myself space to think.
“He must be bringing her to his office. Don’t let them out of your sight. Hunter.”
“The asshole slammed the door shut right in front of my face. Do you know the code for the main building? I don’t have my card with me.”
I tell Charlie the code, and after two failed attempts, I finally hear the sound of a door being opened.
“Third floor, next to the General’s office,” I tell Charlie before he can even ask. “Take the stairs, it’s quicker.”
“Yeah, they are in his office,” Charlie pants into the phone a minute later. “She’s crying.”
This time it’s Logan who takes the phone away from me.
“Get the fuck in there, Hunter. You’re going to stay by her side, and I mean right by her side. Don’t let him send you away.”
“He locked the door,” Charlie says.
“Then kick it the fuck in, Charlie. I don’t care how you do it, but you are not leaving her alone with him. Pull the dad-card or your fucking gun, but do something. Now.”
“Okay, okay,” Charlie stammers, and the last thing we hear before he ends the call is him rattling the doorknob.
What the fuck was Sanders doing in our cell block? The higher-ups usually keep their distance from our building, and especially from our captives. It’s easier to dodge unpleasant questions if your knowledge consists of rumors.
Suffocating silence fills the room, and for a few minutes, we all just stare at each other in disbelief until Red’s blaring radio drags us back to reality.
“Ozzy’s getting the helo ready for takeoff. Bring your girl next time. She sounds like trouble,” Red says, a grin on his face.
“Too soon,” I grumble. “But thank you.”
“Anytime.” He pats my shoulder, leaning a little closer. “Don’t let them get to your head. I know you’re a good soldier, so if you and Cabrera want to—“
Rockwell clears his throat, glaring at Red, who just shrugs.
The vibes are icy as we all rush to our rooms to pack our bags, and I’m glad Logan doesn’t try to initiate a conversation. It would only end in a screaming match, and I have more important things to worry about right now.
For example, where I am going to dispose of Sanders’ disassembled body if he does as much as harm a hair on my girl’s head.
Soon, we walk down the stairs with our bags in hand and hear Red talking to a furious Butcher before we reach the first floor.
“You need to get your wife under control,” Butcher complains. “I don’t say this lightly, but she’s a monster. I fucking dream of sewing her damn mouth shut, boss.”
“Wife?” I ask, not understanding a single thing.
“Yeah. Long story,” Red answers with a sigh.
“Did he just say wife?” Sam comes down the stairs, looking as confused as I still feel.
Red’s radio comes to life, and the groan he lets out before he speaks is full of contempt.
“Eve, mi vida, would you please stop torturing my men? That includes spitting. You’re not a fucking alpaca, are you?”
“Go to hell.”
So soft-spoken she makes the statement sound like a compliment, and Red closes his eyes, the muscles in his jaw straining.
“Fine,” he says. “Want a special color for your muzzle then, brat? Or I’ll just send Butcher back down with a needle and thread.”
He’s met with silence on the other end.
“Someone needs to call the Vatican. I’m afraid the devil is walking among us,” he says, shaking his head.
“Pink. And there better be diamonds on it.”
“Si, mi vida,” he yells into the radio before throwing it down the hallway. Butcher hands him another one, and I wonder how many of them have already fallen victim to Red’s happy new marriage.
“Is there a reason she isn’t here? You guys have separate houses or something?” Logan asks him as we walk out into the garden.
“No, she’s in time-out. Sedated her bodyguards, treated my warehouse like a self-service shop, and got so high she thought it would be fun to let my damn alligator out of his enclosure,” Red explains, kicking a branch out of his way.
“So now I have to pay three guys to keep an eye on Doomsday, well, additionally to the guys I have to pay to watch Evelyn.”
“Takeoff’s in T minus five, with or without you,” Ozzy yells over to us, and the bags under his eyes are enough to cut our goodbyes short.
I promise Red to tell him more about Lily as soon as things are back under control, and Logan doesn’t seem too happy about it.
“Bring her next time.”
This time, it sounds less like an invitation and more like a demand.
“I’m sure she and Eve will get along well.”
“Mhm,” I say with a forced smile on my face. I don’t have the heart to tell him his wife seems like she eats grown men for breakfast and laughs when she shits them out.
Climbing into the helo after Rockwell and Sam, I’m glad it’s a bigger one this time because I once again have the pleasure of sitting next to Lieutenant Ryves.
When I look outside, Red and Logan are still talking. Anxiety surges through me, and it’s only when they softly slap each other’s cheeks and Logan boards the helicopter that I’m no longer scared he’ll stay here.
Technically, a touch of a button is enough to communicate, but we all rather ignore each other. After three hours of rotor sounds and thick tension, I can’t take it any longer.
“She asked me for the key code to your office,” I say to no one in particular. “Said she was looking for a bracelet she lost a few days ago.”
I thought letting the words out would be enough to ease my conscience. When Logan left the bedroom earlier, I woke up and checked my phone. Lily had sent me a message, albeit hours ago, and after my answer stayed unread, I was sure the issue had resolved itself. And then, the screaming started.
To my misfortune, Logan doesn’t need to hear to understand.
“Did you give her my code?”
“Do you really think I’m so dumb?”
“Yes.”
If looks could kill, four corpses would start smelling by the time we touch down on base. Ozzy lands in the middle of the airfield, and as soon as we’re out of his helo, he takes off without a word.
He’s already flying into the early sunrise as we rush toward the main building and up to Sanders’ office.
It’s the second time I’m here at the same time as him. Throughout the past months, Rockwell had tried his best to keep me far away from the new Lieutenant General.
During our first meeting with him, back when Sam was undercover, working on the Barron case, Sanders wasn’t happy about my contributions. And he was very vocal about it. So I just figured Rockwell didn’t want to risk Logan doing something stupid to defend my honor and decided to play it safe.
We’re all pissed, but the look on Logan’s face is more than simple wrath. Ready to paint Sanders’ office a pretty shade of red, he smiles when he sees the ruined door.
We enter the room, and Lily turns to look at me, her tear-streaked face full of remorse, and when I glance over to Sanders, there’s a triumphant, self-righteous grin dancing over his rat face.