This chapter contains language and strong reference.
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Maxwell's POV
His vision swayed as he tried to move, he could feel the heat, he saw the bright red fire before him, the now open wall behind him. The rational thing was to run out as fast as possible, but he didn't. Which was crazy because he didn't really even know the girl or get along with her that much for him to second guess his own safety.
He could hear the ambulance as they arrived, the men in uniform behind him shouting for him to run, but he hesitated.
"Well fuck it!." He groaned, glancing behind him, before he darted for her, pulling her from under the large rock that hit her head and carried her in his arms. Another huge rock fell as something exploded again behind them.
He looked back at their escape space which was now remarkably smaller, he could see more people had gathered outside, shouting for them to come out.
A loud rumble came of more things falling, the floor shook. Walking quickly as he could, he pushed her out first, her limp body going every which way.
A medic - a brave one at that, saw and quickly advanced to them, pulling the rest of Breanna away, so he could also crawl out. He was less than 3 feet away when the entire building got blown to bits.
When his stupid friend suggested that they go to a strip club, this was not how he thought the night would end, at all. The worst case scenario, he would be stuck with a stripper he didn't like. Well that sort of happened, but not exactly how he expected.
He had never needed to go to a strip club to get himself laid before, women were always coming at him, but he was on a dry spell or he got tired of pretending to care for these women, he just needed sex, just for one night.
But where did that land him?, in an ambulance on his way to the hospital, a few bruises and a killing headache.
He stared at her closed eyes, her body completely still, an oxygen mask covering the most of her face.
She was one of the very few students that never came to class with makeup or that appeared like they thought about what to wear, she'd always appear in lounge wear, large sweatshirt and concert tee shirt, her now straight hair was usually curly.
The medics had covered her body from chest down with a large towel, but he couldn't help but think how different she was to who he knew as Breanna Wilson, Sophomore Psychology student.
He sighed.
"Did I hurt you?." The medic that was cleaning the blood on his head asked.
"No." He told her without looking, she wanted to flirt, he could tell from the softness of her voice and he wasn't in the mood, he just survived a gun raid.
They got to the hospital and after a quick scan on her brain, she was not in any great danger, but she suffered a mild concussion.
She woke up a few hours later, startled, calling out to her brother. He winced watching her.
"Jack?, Jack!." She cried out, shaking.
"Hey, Hey, Hey." He rushed to her as she began to fiddle with the drip.
"I need to get out of here." She said in a hoarse.
"You're in a hospital." He tried to clarify.
"I know that, I need to get out." She looked up to him, tears in her eyes.
"What's going on?." A doctor arrived.
"Am I going to die?." She asked him quickly.
"No, you're perfectly fine." The doctor stuttered glancing at him.
"Great, I'd like to go." She said.
"Calm down Wilson, they still have to run some tests before you can be discharged." He said slowly.
"There is no need for that, I'm perfectly fine, right doc?."
"Yeah, but some cops are out there taking statements from every one that came from the club, so…." The doctor explained, pointing behind him, with a worried smile.
"Cops?." She asked.
"You can leave immediately after giving your statement." The doctor said and left as the police came.
"Hi, Lakeside police here, this is officer Brock and I'm officer Waters." Officer Waters introduced raising a card in her face, for less than a second.
"You're the last person and doc says you're clear to go, so why don't we take this down to the station if you don't mind." She asked.
"Sure." Breanna said without hesitation.
"We'll follow behind." Maxwell announced and they left the room.
"Are you sure you can answer questions right now, the doctor said you suffered a concussion." He rapped out.
"I'm fine, Professor Caines." She told him. "Now can we go?."
He huffed, pushing his hair away from his face. "You woke up two minutes ago after almost five hours of being unconscious and, sure!, lets go to the police. "
"Look, you don't understand, my b-brother," She paused, lips quivering, "He died in that club, I need to know who those people were." She gritted angrily, he paused as they stared each other down.
"Fine, the nurse brought some clothes earlier, I hope they fit." He motioned to the neatly folded clothes on the dresser beside the bed.
"I'll be outside." He announced and walked out.
She was stubborn, he always knew, but now she was just being very unreasonable but he couldn't stop her even if he tried, she'd do what she wanted to do anyway.
One thing this whole fiasco brought to his notice was how little he knew his students, he always felt it was not his job to be familiar with their personal lives, but now he was beginning to change his mind.
It was Saturday morning and he was in a hospital ready to drive a stripper who also happened to be his student to the police station.
This was not at all how other Saturdays unfolded. He groaned out, kicking the dirt under his feet. He called his cleaning lady to help feed his dog, since he didn't know how long they'd be at the station.
The drive there was silent, she fell asleep twice. Asleep she seemed so peaceful, with her hair in her mouth, but he knew better.
She was anything but. They had barely arrived, when he heard his name, snapping him out of his reverie.
"Max, what are you doing here?." He heard a voice suddenly call out to him.
"Steve?." He turned to the man.
Steve Lion was the first friend he made when he moved here to Lakeview, his grand dad and Steve's were buds. Steve was married with 2 kids, another one of his 'friends' that was married and that had his life all together.
"Are you here to see me?." He asked. "Its crowded, a club was attacked down town...." Steve rushed to explain, motioning to the people around him. Maxwell stopped him.
"Yeah, I know, actually, I was there and a student of mine is here for questioning." He told him and Steve laughed.
"You?, went to a strip club?."
"I know, one more bad decision of my life. " He smiled bitterly, scratching his head.
"I don't know if i should call this a mid life crisis." Steve laughed again.
"Just don't tell your wife." He told him, almost pleadingly. "She'll tell Martha, and Martha will tell my mom and they will be here before sun down."
"Sure thing man, I have to go, if anything happens, my office is down this hall." Steve gave him a brotherly slap on the back and left. He sighed and turned to see Breanna already being questioned.
"Name and age?."
"Breanna Wilson, 21."
"What were you doing in the club?."
"I work there."
He glanced up at her with a suggestive look, and Maxwell had the sudden urge to punch the look off the officer's face.
"What do you do there?."
Maxwell side glanced her, also waiting for her answer, she scoffed at his question, scratching her eyebrow.
"I mop the floors," She mocked the officer, Maxwell held a chuckle. "I'm a stripper damn it!."
"How long have you been working there?." The officer asked with a hum.
"A year." She mumbled after a beat.
"I didn't get you." The officer said to her.
"One year." She repeated in a mumble, inspecting a bruise on her forearm.
"What?." The man leaned in again, pretending he 'didn't get her' when on the contrary he just wanted to irritate her and make her embarrased. Maxwell frowned. He didn't like this officer at all.
"I said a freaking year, you son of a biscuit!."
The officer flared up, supposedly offended.
"No need to get aggressive kid, we are doing our best here." The officer said in a rehearsed clipped voice.
"Your best?!, where are the people who started shooting?," She gave a dramatic pause, looking around. "Where are they?, you didn't catch one?, not one?!." She shouted, raising a finger in the air, her eyes red with anger.
Maxwell had never seen her this angry before, in fact he never noticed her much, but she always seemed like she was bored with every thing in life. She was stubborn and had a quick rude mouth. That much he knew and noticed. It was all he needed, well, until now.
"Calm down...…" The officer began with a sigh, leaning in his twirling chair.
"Don't tell me to calm down!." She shot at him, "My brother died in that place, he was shot three times in the chest!." He watched her shout on top of her voice, tapping her chest. He held down a wince.
"Wilson." Maxwell called to her, softly, but she brushed him away.
"So don't tell me to effing calm down!, he took three bullets for me, you let the bad people get away, you and you're telling me to calm down?!."
"Look here!, this is a strip club we are talking about, gun fights happen all the time, if we look into the case and its more than your average gang fight and illegal acquisition of fire arms, we hand it over to the FBI, okay?!."
"Wow!.....you sound so enthusiastic!." She folded her arms, eyeing him angrily, her voice coated with sarcasm.
"Listen!, if you like your freedom, I suggest you cooperate with us. One more insult from you and you will be detained for underaged drinking and clubbing." The officer threatened, pointing an accusing finger.
She gasped. "What?."
"Hey, hey, hey man." Maxwell stepped in quickly. "What are y?....is that a threat?."
"You are only 21 and have been working in a strip club for a year, you're more than welcome to take it as a threat, so I would recommend keeping your mouth shut and cooperating with us! we ask the questions around here!."