“Oh, please, tell me you’re not calling just to bust my balls, Stacy. I promise I’ve been nothing but good to Harley,” King said, only half in jest.

“King, this is serious. Harley was attacked at work. She’s in the ICU.”

King frowned and shook his head. His one great fear had become his reality. Perhaps the sins of his past were coming to claim retribution through the only woman he’d ever loved.

Later, he would remember nothing about the drive to the hospital. His arrival in the parking lot was more out of habit than any particular mental fortitude. You’ve got to live, Harley. You’ve got to live. I’ll fucking die without you, baby.

“Fuck, baby…” He brushed away at one lone tear. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this out of control. He leaned his head against the headrest and laughed, the sound bordering on hysteria. Some sick, demented part of him was reminding him that control was of utmost importance to Harley in all aspects of her life. Her well-being, her safety, her survival – they were all in his hands now—his responsibility. He would be in control for her. And he would fucking kill whoever did this to her – as if he didn’t already know.

His tires skidded to a halt in front of the hospital. A parking attendant, savvy to the potential reasons for his visit, ran to the car. King didn’t care about the car, the keys, anything. Nothing mattered but her.

 He ran through the lobby to the elevator. After what seemed like forever, he was punching the large button that opened the ICU automatic doors.

“King. Oh, my God,” Stacy rushed over to him and hugged him. He was numb. He put his arms around her mindlessly, knowing it was the appropriate thing to do.

“Where is she?”

Stacy didn’t answer, just took off running down the hall with King following at her heels. He pushed past her, burst into the room, and stopped short. As familiar as he was with the gory side of cartel justice, nothing could have prepared him for this. With his face twisted in grief, he approached the bed, his hands hovering over her head and face as if searching for something to touch but knowing better than to try.

His brain refused to accept the evidence of his eyes. The pitiful creature in the bed couldn’t be his Harley. The face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition. Her arm was in a sling and her wrist was in a brace. Everywhere there could be a tube, there was a tube, and the tubes were attached to machines that beeped and clicked. Were they keeping her alive with machines?

“Stacy, what the fuck?!” he croaked. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What is all this?”

“She’s in a medically-induced coma.”

“The motherfucker put her in a coma?! He’s dead, he’s so dead, that fucker--”

“King. King! Chill, okay? He didn’t put her in a coma, although it was damned close. No, the doctors put her in a medically induced coma, just to let her rest. She was in a lot of pain and, more importantly, there’s a risk of brain swelling. If that happens, they’ll need to operate. It…would be best not to, if possible. They don’t anticipate needing to maintain the coma for longer than maybe a day or two.”

The room swallowed him up, and when he spoke he didn’t recognize his own voice. “What the hell did he do to her?”

Stacy didn’t have to ask who he meant. “Somebody beat the shit out of her.”

“Somebody? C’mon, you know it was him. I need to see where it happened.” He turned to her. “Show me.”

“King, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You need to fly under the radar on this one. The police are in the staff locker room now gathering evidence. Let them do their job…please.”

He glared at her impatiently. “The police aren’t going to do what needs to be done here, trust me. There has to be surveillance footage. Somewhere there’s a camera that caught this guy entering or exiting.”

“Not in the locker room.”

“It doesn’t even fucking matter. I already know who did this.”

“If you kill him, they’ll know it was you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper even though they were the only ones in the room. “If you’re determined to take care of this…problem, then you need to really take care of it. I mean, you’ve got to make sure he’s six feet under so he can never hurt another woman.” She nodded in Harley’s direction. “You’re going to have to be smart about how you pull this one off. Don’t you dare get caught! She loves you and that’s more than enough for me. If you need my help setting this bastard up, you’ve got it.”

“Well, I love her too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” They stood together by the bed, each lost in their own thoughts as the machines beeped and whirred. King slid his hand gently over Harley’s uninjured one and whispered, “Is she going to make it through this? Is she going to live?”

“We’re going to think positive thoughts, King. I know this looks so bad, but you’ve got to remember that this coma is medically induced so she can rest and heal.”

“Keep reminding me of that, will you?”

“I will. Now, go do what you do best. Oh, here,” she said as she tucked a slip of paper into his hand. “This is the address of the shelter where his wife is hiding. He’s bound to find her and if she kills him you can bet your ass it will be in self-defense.”

“My thoughts exactly. But she doesn’t need that kind of complication in her life – she’s been through enough. And I need to be the one to avenge what he did to my woman.”

“It doesn’t matter who does it as long as he’s dead, King.”

“Oh, it matters.”

“King, don’t let your ego get in the way. The only thing that matters is you pulling this off without getting caught. They’re going to look at you first.”

His neck flushed with color and he swallowed hard. “Tell my heart that. Tell my heart revenge doesn’t matter. Right now, I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him. I want to see the look in his eyes when he enters the gates of Hell.”

Stacy knew he’d never be able to let it go. She just hoped he didn’t end up in prison by the time her best friend woke up. She knew Harley would never forgive herself if King went to prison because of her. Stacy straightened and laid her hand on King’s arm. “I’ve got a better idea. No one would suspect me. You get me a gun with no past and no serial numbers on it and I’ll make sure it gets into the right hands.”

“I can do that, but if he’s not dead by the end of the week, he’ll be dealing with me.”

“Understood. But, King, somebody’s gotta say it: don’t fuck this up by letting your emotions get in the way. You know that’s the first rule of business.”

King turned red-rimmed eyes her way as a sad smile touched his lips. “When did you get so smart about cartel business?”

She shrugged. “Business is business. Whether it’s a legal business deal or not, the first rule is that you think with your head, not your heart. So you go do that, big fella, and keep in mind the sonofabitch is still dying by your hand either way.”

“You don’t know whether she’s going to take that gun.”

“King, please. There are children involved. A mother will do anything to protect her children. Hey, about that address I gave you -- don’t leave it lying around, okay? There are a lot of assholes around here who want to know where their families are hiding.”

“Got it. Why don’t you give her the gun for protection but don’t outright tell her to kill him? If she goes there, she goes there, but she needs to get there on her own. I don’t want this shit coming back to haunt us.”

“Believe me, if a woman knows how to do anything it’s to get a man to do what we want while making them think it was their idea. It works with women too.”

King just grinned. He could see why Harley thought so highly of her friend. “Well, hell, Stacy, you got me there. Truer words were never spoken.” That elicited a laugh from both of them -- a much needed laugh.