ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Valentine Biker (MC Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Valentine Romance Short Stories) (129 page)

Chapter Two

Out of the Darkness

     The darkness brought peace.

     Lost in a realm shadow-less blackness—a place totally devoid of sight, sound or sensation—Jaxson felt his entire being relax as he succumbed to into the arms of the sea. He made no attempt to make sense of the numbness that overtook him, instead choosing to descend into the comforting void that wrapped like a warm blanket around his aching body and waning consciousness.

     He knew not whether death had claimed him, or if he simply lingered in a deep, dark coma; and at this point, he simply didn’t care. He more than welcomed the respite from pain, shock and turmoil, the aura of peace and relaxation that claimed his being whole.

     His last foggy memories of the world he’d left behind were tumultuous; a fact that greatly facilitated his decision to remain in the void, to lose consciousness in a mysterious sphere where time, space and pain did not exist.

     Then suddenly he saw a light; a bright luminous beam he simply could not ignore as it penetrated his closed eyelids. And he heard an old weathered voice repeatedly call his name.

     “Jaxson? Jaxson? Jax! Open your eyes.”

     Jaxson’s senses came jarringly alive as he stirred from his place of rest and respite; feeling his body shift in what seemed to be a covering of crisp, clean cotton sheets.

     Finally and with all his earthly effort he forced his eyes open; beholding as he did the smiling face of a bespectacled snow-haired woman.

     Immediately he recognized the woman’s wide blue eyes and weathered, wrinkled face; and he greeted that face with a weak smile as he whispered, “Grandma Ethel? Is that you? Ha-have you come to welcome me to the other side?”

     His grin dissolved as the woman before him straightened before his bed; withdrawing the flashlight she’d shown in his eyes and letting loose with a disgruntled snort.

     “I’d far rather you’d mistaken me for some beautiful angel sent to welcome you to the good ol’ pearly gates,” she proclaimed with a smirk, adding as she leaned over his bed, “In fact though, I ain’t no angel and I am certainly not your dead grandmother. I’m Dr. Judy Clarkson, your attending physician here at Culver Military Medical Center. And although I hardly qualify as a celestial being, right now I am indeed thanking God that the patient I’ve been tending to for the last week is finally awake and amongst the living.”

     Gaping outright at this assertion, Jax moved his head in a slow, deliberate manner to regard his foreign surroundings: a crisp, clean-lined ivory room which claimed a plain railed bed as its centerpiece.

     A bed where he lay confused and motionless, staring with wide eyes up at the matronly woman in the slick white coat.

     “Can you tell me your full name?” she asked him now.

     Jaxson thought a moment, then nodded.

     “Jaxson,” he revealed finally. “Jaxson Pal-mer. You can call me Jax.” He quipped.

     The doctor smiled.

     “Very good!” she praised him, adding with eyebrows arched, “Now can you tell me the name of the military branch in which you serve?”

     Jaxson bit his lip as he strained his psyche for the information requested.

     “I don’t know,” he released on an anguished sigh. “I can’t seem to focus.”

     He shut his eyes tight, not allowing expression to grace his face as he fought against the gray void that seemed to overtake his will, a feeling he could not identify with.

     “Try,” Dr. Clarkson urged, covering his hands with hers as she told him, “I’ve been told that your job is your whole reason for being, Jax. Tell me who you are.”

     “I am a Navy Seal,” he answered finally, not sure how the realization made it to consciousness, yet a strong sense of pride still underlying his softened, weakened tones. “Now I have a question for you Doc. Why am I in here?”

     The doctor sighed.

     “Let me say first Son, that you are lucky to be alive,” she revealed, adding with a somber look, “You were performing a rescue mission for the Seals when you ran afoul of an underwater bomb; an explosive that left you with a head injury and some body trauma.”

     Jaxson’s entire being tensed as he considered these shocking words; his mind flooding suddenly with a rain of memories that shook him to the core. He was the one always in control. This was new to him.

     He still wasn’t certain as to exactly what had happened to him; but he did recall the mission gone bad, vaguely. He saw the flash. He heard the explosion. He felt the explosive thrash his body.

     “Explain” he demanded, fixing his physician with a pleading yet assertive gaze.

     The doctor sighed.

     “According to your commanding officers, it was a quiet day. You were playing cards on deck with your best buddy, Tommy Lopez, when another officer alerted you to what appeared to be the presence of a fallen man underwater, a scuba diver they had thought,” she recited the story as she’d heard it, voice barely above a whisper as she continued, “You discovered too late that below the ‘body’ was a bomb.”

     Dr. Clarkson bit her lip.

     “I’m very pleased some of your memory is returning, that’s and excellent sign”.
     “What about my team?” Jax finally asked, judging by the expression on her face.
     “I’m sorry to tell you, there was an incident with Lt. Thomas Lopez?”

     Jaxson nodded, impatiently. “And!?” 

     Dr. Clarkson shook her head. She explained, “Shortly after you dove overboard to save what you perceived to be a person in trouble, your ship’s scanner detected the presence of the bomb—it was initially cloaked, and in the very place you were heading. Tommy immediately sprang to action, suiting up and diving in after you.” She paused here, “Tommy was right beside you when the bomb exploded. He had taken position between the bomb and yourself to shield you. He suffered the worst of the it. He’s had internal injuries, and deep lacerations to the leg. At first doctors didn’t think they would be able to save it, but they fortunately were. He is in ICU and has been in an induced coma for the last week. It’s still touch and go.”

     Jaxson gasped.

     “Oh no. Is his room close to mine? When can I see him? Will you take me to him now, please?” he begged.

     Dr. Clarkson held her hands up before her, halting his barrage of inquiries with a firm gesture and somber eyes.

     “I’m so sorry Jaxson,” I can’t do that. He’s been moved to the Military hospital. They took him there so his wife could be by his side, since we know coma patients respond well to loved ones, speaking to them to lure them back.”

     The doctor shook her head.

     “Now Jaxson, you’ve got to relax, seeing he was now becoming dizzy from reality setting in” she admonished him, adding as she raised an authoritative finger in his direction, “You can’t do anything to help your friend right now. You’ve got to help yourself first. Rest and get your bearings and we’ll begin the best course of rehab as soon as we can.”

     Jaxson buried his head in his hands, taking a deep sustaining breath as he considered her words of advice, begrudgingly.

     “OK then,” he exhaled finally, an unwilling acceptance as he looked his doctor straight in the eyes. “Tell me when I’ll be getting out of this place.” He paused here, adding in a stronger tone, “And back to active duty.”

     The doctor sighed.

     “If all goes well Jaxson, we should be able to release you from the hospital in about three weeks,” she revealed, adding as she shuffled her feet beneath her, “And when you leave here, you’ll be going home.”

     Jaxson shook his head.

     “Home? Why!?” he asked, confused. “For how long?”

     Dr. Clarkson looked at him for a long moment, then let loose with a weary sigh that told the truth of the tale.

     “Your injuries appear to be pretty extensive, Kid,” she revealed, tone low and motherly. “It may be months or even a year before you return to the Seals.” She paused here, and decided to keep her next statement to herself, “That is, if you ever go back”.

Chapter Three

Fallen Seal

One month later

     The coming of nightfall found Jaxson once again in bed; and although this particular resting place seemed far more familiar, it supplied little comfort in the jarring context of a life turned upside down.

     Staring up at the ceiling of his combination modern-contemporary four room apartment in downtown Miami, Jaxson considered the brutal shift of fate that—in the course of just a few weeks--had ripped his life apart.      

     Just a month and a half ago, he mused, he rode the high seas as a top and well respected Navy Seal; fulfilling a long held childhood dream that had developed into a lifetime career.

     He’d never felt stronger, happier or more fulfilled; or more certain of his goal and destiny in what seemed a perfect life, for him.

     Now he struggled every day, undergoing incessant rounds of intense physical therapy before dropping from exhaustion in the evenings. Yet even as the pain and fatigue eventually overtook him, still he found he couldn’t sleep; his nocturnal hours cursed by frequent fits of insomnia as well as ceaseless nightmares, the explosion and near death experience weighing more heavily on him than he expected it would. He was tougher than this, he thought.

     “No more,” he decided now, pulling himself up from his bed as he faced the full length mirror that formed a far corner of his bedroom.

     Thanks to his vigorous rounds of intense physical therapy, and extra albeit unobserved self-directed physical training, Jax managed to remain exceedingly fit despite circumstances; and due to some minor reconstructive surgery, his chiseled blue eyed face remained what the ladies might call strikingly handsome.

     “I’m a Navy SEAL—and this is temporary, he decreed to himself and the Universe.” he released with conviction. “I may be down now, but I am still a man.”

     Suddenly this man decided enough was enough. He was getting out of his luxury jail, given it wasn’t on his terms, and decided instead on some action, women and beer. “Why not” he thought.

     There’s a new bar around the corner, Jax remembered. “No nightmares tonight, if I’m stuck here, I may as well remove sleep from the agenda, at least for tonight, anyway. After a good shower and a sound shave, I should be ready to make my own action”, he thought, missing his buds from SEAL team 7. “This is out character for me”, he decided to let that thought slide, forging a way through the frustration of downtime and a future of uncertainty.

Chapter Four

Unwelcome Intervention

     Once again Jaxson found himself wallowing in the sheets of his own bed; seeking a brief respite from the unmitigated hell his life had become.

     Only this time, he wasn’t alone.

     Sharing his crisp, soft cotton sheets this morning was a slender bleached blonde with abnormally sizable breasts; one whose name he struggled to remember as he tried to gently shake her awake.

     “Um, Miss?” he summoned her in a soft voice, uncomfortable with her presence in his bed.

     Letting out a soft grunt, the woman opened her sleep-glazed eyes to focus on the man who disturbed her slumber.

     “Hiii” she purred, she grasped his head with two rough hands and dragged it toward her; seizing his lips in a passionate kiss as he grumbled his protests.

     “Ma’am!” he exclaimed, breaking their kiss as he sat away from her in bed. “I had a great time last night, but my mom is due here anytime this morning and I really think it might be awkward…..”

     Jumping from his bed the disgruntled stranger pulled on her clothes—a simple shirt and jeans ensemble found at the edge of Jaxson’s bed—as she seared him with a hardened gaze.

     “You lied to me last night. You told me you were a Navy Seal,” she spat out these last words with unmistakable venom before adding, “No Seal would kick a woman out of bed like this.” He realized she was one of those ‘Seal hoppers’, and he was a notch in
her
belt. How things had changed.

     Within moments she cleared the room and grabbed the black purse that was hanging from Jaxson’s door knob; slinging it over her shoulder as she opened his front door to reveal a most unwelcome sight.

     Dorothy Palmer, a slender dark-haired woman wearing a proper blue dress with a conservative white sweater, stood in the doorway with mouth agape; staring wordless at the coarse young woman who swept past her into the hallway.

     “He’s all yours Mamma,” the girl declared, heading with brisk steps out of his apartment and away from Jax, minus her unfulfilled morning desires, it seemed.

     Moments later Jax lay quiet and still in his sheets; wishing fervent that his bed would open up and swallow him as his mother seared him with a condemning gaze.

     “Mom,” he finally spoke, his voice cracking as he attempted a casual shrug. “This isn’t what it looks like. I swear.”

     His mother shook her head.

     “This is indeed exactly what it looks like, and you have no need to explain,” she assured him, adding as she folded her arms before her, “I don’t know where my son is, but I really don’t care for the irresponsible jerk who has taken his place. You stay out partying all night, bring home strange women, and you’ve skipped numerous physical therapy sessions. You won’t go out and do something productive with your days—ah, but you seem well enough to trek out to the neighborhood bar, to get drunk and make the acquaintance of a sundry one night stand. Worst of all Jaxson Wayne, you refuse find the character you once had. Who the hell are you anyway?” she demanded to know, “and what have you done with my upstanding son!?”

     Jaxson shrugged.

     His mother shook her head.

     “Well this isn’t good enough Son,” she informed him, adding as she took his hand and pulled him from his bed, “And that’s why I have elected to hire you a little outside help, in the form of a therapist. If you’re going to wallow, you’re going to pay the price in the form of solution.”

     Jaxson shook his head, he was more afraid of counseling than that of jumping out of a perfectly good plane and into combat.

     “No way,” he insisted, as he folded his arms before her. “I’ll go to every physical therapy session—you know, the kind of therapy that actually works—but I’m not going to sit and listen to some know it all shrink who claims she can analyze my subconscious mind.”

     His mother sighed.

     “Well somebody needs to read you the riot act, or at least set you back on the right track,” she insisted. “And Dr. Pierce just may be the person to do it.” His mother was stronger than hell itself, and he respected her for her deep wisdom. Although he definitely didn’t agree with a lot of things she did and said, she always produced a solution to a pressing problem. He wasn’t raised to say ‘no’ to his mom, and he wasn’t going to test her and try now. After all, he admitted, he really had nothing to lose, but the panic attacks that continued to plague him, nightly.

     An hour later Jaxson stood outside a solid mahogany door marked “Dr. B. Pierce”; a door situated centrally in the clean lined offices of Pierce Psychological Services.

     “So I wonder what Benjamin, Bartholomew or Barton will have to say about the many and various ways I’m screwing up my life,” he wondered, envisioning the balding, bearded, bespectacled gent in a three piece suit who was about to open the door before him. “Hey, I’m still in Seal shape. If he says something I really don’t like, I can just punch his lights out and be done with it” he humored himself, nervously.

     He amended this opinion moments later, as his solid knock on the office door was answered by an individual who—while bespectacled, to be sure—could not precisely be described as balding or bearded. And in lieu of a three piece suit, the person who answered his summons wore a smart azure business dress and high heels.

     “Well hello there Barney,” he greeted with a smile. “Or would you be Barney’s nurse?”

     The woman rolled her eyes heavenward in a way that told him that he was not remotely correct—in either assumption.

     “I am Dr. Bethany Pierce,” she identified herself, adding as she extended her hand to him with a confident flourish; “I take it you are Lt. Jaxson Palmer?”

     Taking her hand in his, Jaxson raised it to his soft moist lips for a long lingering kiss; his eyes taking stock of her sleek mane of silky black hair, wide brown eyes, flawless olive complexion, and full glossy lips.

     “Well I see this meaningless little arrangement of ours is going to be far more pleasant than I initially imagined,” he purred, adding as his admiring gaze next took in the whole of her tall, voluptuous form, “I never imagined that you’d be a woman, let alone such a beautiful one.”

     Pulling him by the hand into her office, Dr. Pierce closed the door behind her and turned to face him with a cold hard stare.

     “Look Jaxson, I’ve been warned in advance of you and your B.S. And rest assured that I will not be charmed by you,” she assured him, adding as she folded her arms before her, “I’m not one of those Seal bunnies that you can sweet talk into submission with your military title.” She paused here, leaving out the outrageously fit hard body, and strikingly handsome part. “I’m here to help you reconcile what you’ve been dealing with, so you can get back to whatever you do. Whether you like it or not.”

     A stunned Jax looked at her for a long moment then started laughing. Loudly.

     “Whether I like it or not,” he repeated in a light tone, adding as he graced her with a playful nudge, “Is this a new and cutting edge method of advanced psychotherapy?”

     Without awaiting an answer, he plopped down on the leather couch that formed the center of Dr. Pierce’s office; watching with casual, insolent interest as she took a seat at the polished cherry wood desk that formed the office’s far corner.

     “Listen hon, I really like your moxy,” he admitted. “That’s why I really hate to tell you that you’re wasting your time here—along with, I might add, my mother’s money. I have no intention of sitting here while you fill my head with meaningless psychobabble. Sure, I realize that I don’t remember a lot about who I was and what happened to me—but it’s not like you have a magnifying glass into my mind.”

     Dr. Pierce shrugged.

     “Well it’s your choice of course,” she agreed, adding as she looked her reluctant new patient straight in the eyes, “Just know though, that your mother only called me at the insistence of your commanding officer.” She paused here, adding as she pointed an authoritative finger straight in his direction, “Unless you agree to attend these weekly sessions, in addition to your physical therapy sessions, your chances of making it back into the Seals are roughly less than zero.”

     “Give or take, zilcho” she finished, issuing him a challenging look.

     “
Give or take, zilcho
” Jaxson mimicked in a snide mocking tone, adding with an insolent look, “Look, if you want to waste an hour of your time each week here in this office with me, then by all means—feel free to do so. We can play checkers, each chocolate chip cookies washed back with some milk, preferably chocolate milk, or take naps here in the depths of your comfy office furnishings here.” He paused here, adding as he flattened his body down the surface of the couch and let loose with a languorous sigh, “But I refuse to discuss, reveal, remember or share anything of substance in your presence.
Nothing. Nada.
Zilcho.
Got it?” He decided he won that round.