Tap'd Out Read online

  Contents

  COVER PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  EPILOGUE

  THANK YOU!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Published by Harley Stone

  Copyright ©2019 – Harley Stone

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  For Gail.

  Thanks for always being the first, second, third… fiftieth to read.

  You go above and beyond, my friend.

  Tap

  I SHOULD HAVE left her ass there.

  She wasn’t my mission, not my concern, and we were at war. Casualties were often unavoidable, sometimes sacrifices had to be made. I knew this shit like it was ingrained in my DNA or hardwired into my brain, but none of it seemed to matter when I saw her. I’d already broken my personal protocol for survival by entering this house. I had people to get home to, obligations to protect, and sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong would endanger them.

  But I couldn’t force myself to walk away.

  She was crumpled on the hardwood floor, lying in the fetal position. The front of her little red dress was ripped with one breast spilling out. Blood dripped from her leg and was smeared across her arm. Dark bruises dotted her skin. A curtain of chin-length blonde hair hid her face. I watched her chest, waiting to see it rise and fall, before finishing what I came to do. She was still breathing as I crept around the room, trying to ignore her presence and focus on my job.

  Once the bugs were planted, I took two steps toward the door, determined to make my escape, but couldn’t get any further. It was like an invisible rope tied me to her, making it impossible to leave. Frustrated with myself and the situation, I gave in and knelt to check her pulse. Her heartbeat was steady and strong.

  The blonde curtain parted as she looked up at me. Her lip was split, one eye was swollen shut, and the right side of her jaw was battered. But it was the strength and determination written all over her face that stole my breath away and glued my feet to the floor. All the blood, all the bruises—she’d taken one hell of a beating—but she wasn’t broken. Not by a long shot.

  She was fucking gorgeous. Alive. Fiery. One bright green eye swept over my mostly naked body, taking in my costume before meeting my gaze.

  “Leave me,” she pleaded.

  It was the last thing I expected her to say, and the only command I couldn’t follow.

  I should have left her ass there, but I didn’t.

  Sasha

  Four Years Ago

  MY MOTHER WAS uncharacteristically late. As I sat in the busy Las Vegas diner, watching the lunch crowd thin out, I checked my phone for missed calls. There was nothing, so I shot off a quick text asking where she was. As I sat the phone down, Mom finally made an appearance. She hurried through the door wearing a tight gray dress and heels. Like always, her makeup was on point and her long brown hair was blown out in soft waves. At forty-two, she still turned heads as she clicked her way past the hostess stand, scanning the diner. I waved and caught her gaze.

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a relieved breath as she joined me at my table. “Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting I couldn’t get out of.” Mom hugged me and sat across the booth, scooting in as she picked up her menu.

  While a meeting was a fitting excuse for a normal mother, my mom didn’t have the kind of job that required meetings or the kind of boss who met with his employees in the middle of the day. Hell, Mom’s boss was probably still asleep. “What kind of meeting?” I asked.

  “Oh, you know. Just a meeting.” Avoiding my gaze, she opened her menu. “I wonder how this beet salad is? Have you tried it?”

  Mom lived a dangerous life. For years, she thought she was shielding me and my sister, Nadia, from her lifestyle, but I’d always been too curious and observant for my own good. I’d spied on her, fascinated by the scandalous way she dressed each night and intrigued by the men who picked her up.

  I was also the first one to notice the track marks on her arms.

  Mom’s protective instincts had flown out the window the first time I dragged her ass into rehab and told her to stop lying to me and to herself. Something shifted that day, and she started recognizing me as an ally and an adult, rather than a child she had to shelter from the truth. If she was trying to protect me now, something was seriously wrong. I looked her over, noticing the tightness of her mouth, the dark circles around her eyes, and the slight tremble of her hands. Leaning across the table, I lowered my voice and said, “Mom, look at me.”

  She hesitated. Then her sage green eyes lifted. The slight bounce to them made my breath hitch.

  “Shit. You’re using again.”

  Her gaze dropped back down to her menu. “It’s not like that, Sasha. It’s nothing, really. There’s been a small shake up at work, and I needed a little something to… you know… help with my anxiety.”

  Eight years ago, Mom sat me and Nadia down to tell us that she was going to work, and Dad would be spending more time at home. It was her way of protecting us from the truth that our Dad had prostate cancer. Nadia and I weren’t stupid, and we knew something was up. We heard the way Mom sobbed at night and saw the way Dad withered away.

  Mom cleaned hotel rooms by day and waited tables at night, but she couldn’t come close to matching Dad’s income. The next time she sat me and Nadia down, it was to tell us that we were selling our house and beginning a new adventure, which meant moving into a small two-bedroom apartment in a shady part of Vegas.

  Despite all the expensive treatments and procedures, Dad died, leaving Mom with an impossible stack of medical bills, two confused daughters to raise, and a giant hole in her heart. Somewhere between working two jobs, fending off collection calls, and dealing with her crushing sadness, she turned to meth to keep herself going. Before long, her drug of choice was “yes please” and she was in an on-again off-again relationship with her dealer, Tony, who offered to pimp her out so she could make enough money to support her habit and her family. Over the past seven years, I’d dragged her into rehab four times trying to get her clean. The last time she fell off the wagon, it almost killed her. It almost killed me to see her so strung out and hopeless. She promised me she was done with dope and hooking, and last I’d heard, she’d moved in with Tony and he was taking care of her.

  “I thought you and Tony were back
together and you were done with that shit?” I asked.

  Pain sliced through Mom’s features and she looked away. “We were and I was, but things changed.”

  She was being so damn vague I buckled down for a fight, knowing I’d have to drag every detail out of her. “Where’s Tony?” I silently swore that if he was the one who’d given her the dope, I was going to kick in his crooked teeth.

  “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean ‘gone’? Where did he go?”

  “There’s new management in the neighborhood. A motorcycle gang that’s running the girls. They ran his ass out of town. He won’t be coming back.”

  Shocked, I stared at her. Tony was a sleaze ball, but at least he cared for my mom in his own sick and twisted way. “And now this motorcycle gang is like…” I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Your new pimp?”

  She nodded.

  No. Unacceptable. It was bad enough when Mom was hooking for Tony. Newcomers were not welcome. “Where did Tony go? Why didn’t he take you with him?”

  Reaching over to pat my hand, she gave me a sad smile. “Oh, honey, it doesn’t work like that. I’m part of the business.”

  My stomach roiled at how okay she seemed to be with all of this. She had a new pimp and was using again. All the progress we’d made with her last rehab had flown out the window. “You’re not some business, you’re a person. You have to get out of this lifestyle, Mom,” I pleaded for the hundredth time. “It’s going to kill you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Yes, I do. Look, I invited you to lunch today because I have good news. I passed my physical exam and I’ve been accepted into the police academy. I’m flying to Seattle in two weeks to begin the program. Come with me. I’ll buy your ticket and we’ll find you a nice little apartment until I graduate. Or if you don’t want to stay by yourself, we can send you to live with Nadia and her family in Illinois until I’m done.”

  Mom was already shaking her head. “The new guy in charge… Slick… he’s… different.” Her gaze darted around the restaurant. “He won’t let me leave, Sasha. Not without… consequences. That’s what today’s meeting was about. He wanted to make sure we all understood what would happen to us if we tried to run.” Her expression soured and she looked away.

  “What did he say? Did he do something to hurt you or one of the girls?”

  Answering the question with her avoidance of it, she replied, “I’d never do anything to put you or your sister in danger. My place is here, honey.”

  “By the time he realizes you’re gone, you’ll be across state lines. Possibly even two state lines. Mom, this is a good thing. It’s like it was meant to be. The timing is perfect.”

  Her eyes were heavy with concern, but the slightest bit of hope shined through. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to school to be a cop. I can protect you. Let me.”

  It took almost an hour to convince her, but I did. I pulled out my phone and bought her plane ticket on the spot so she couldn’t chicken out. Then we made arrangements for her to come to my apartment after work the night before we were supposed to fly out.

  Mom never showed up.

  Worried about all the things that could have happened to her, I broke her number one rule and drove to her apartment, wishing I was already a cop. The door was wide open. Bracing myself, I crept inside and looked around. I found Mom lying on the floor in her bedroom. There was a band around her arm and a needle beside her body. Her chest was still and her eyes were open. Falling to my knees, I checked for the pulse I knew she wouldn’t have. Calling 911, I started CPR and stayed at it until the paramedics pulled me off her.

  The coroner said Mom overdosed, but I refused to believe she’d given in to her addiction when she was so close to getting out of the lifestyle. Regardless, I’d promised my mom I would protect her, and I’d failed.

  As the coroner drew the sheet over Mom’s body and slid her back into the metal cabinet to wait for the driver from the cemetery, I promised myself I wouldn’t fail another mom ever again.

  Sasha

  Two Weeks ago

  AS I STARED into the tearful face of yet another mother I was about to fail, a bone-deep feeling of helplessness squeezed my chest, threatening to crush me under its weight. My job wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be one of the good guys, out on the streets helping people. Not collecting forms and sitting on my hands as girls went missing. I’d been with the Seattle PD for three and a half years, and I was still swimming in the kiddie pool with my inexperience constantly held over my head.

  Girls were disappearing around the city, and so far, the department hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Nobody seemed to care but me and a few heartbroken parents.

  “She didn’t run away,” Maria Nunez insisted from across my desk, glancing at the photograph clutched in her hand. “I know that’s what all the cops think, but my Alicia is shy. Quiet. She only has one friend and nowhere to go.”

  Shy, quiet, lonely… it matched the description of all the other girls who’d gone missing. They also had poverty and their minority status in common. Sex traffickers had a type. They targeted loners from low-income families, kids who didn’t have many connections or people they could confide in. “Do you have any new information for me to work with? Did you think of anything at all? Sometimes the smallest detail can make all the difference.” Alicia had been missing for five days, and with each passing minute our chances of finding her dwindled.

  “Didn’t her friend, Martha, tell you something? About the man on the motorcycle?” Ms. Nunez asked, laying the photograph down on the table to stare at me.

  Yes, Martha had told me all about the man on the motorcycle. He’d been wearing a black cut with a snake on the back. The Seattle Serpents was an outlaw motorcycle gang that seemed to be all but untouchable. Several of their members were registered sex offenders, and none of them had any business slumming around a high school. Martha had seen Alicia speaking with a dark-haired Serpent after school a few days before she disappeared. I’d taken the lead to my sergeant and he told me to sit on it.

  “Good work, Petrov. I’ll have Franks and Scott look into it.”

  “Franks and Scott?” I asked. “Why would you give them my case?”

  “I’m not giving them your case, just the surveillance. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’re still a bit green around the gills to be going up against the Serpents.”

  I wanted to point out that the term ‘green around the gills’ was used when someone looked ill, not inexperienced, but I’d made the mistake of correcting Sergeant Wilkens once before, which was probably why I was now a freaking desk jockey, so I kept my mouth shut.

  Anger burned within me as I glanced at the sergeant’s door, remembering our last conversation and wishing his ass would come out here and explain to Ms. Nunez what progress Franks and Scott had made or why he wouldn’t even let me show mug shots to Martha. I couldn’t figure out if the sergeant was misogynistic or hung up on my age and inexperience, but it wasn’t the first time he’d sidelined me, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Hell, the bastard hadn’t even given me a full-time partner yet.

  “We’re looking into the information Martha shared,” I told Ms. Nunez, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “I’ve also sent Alicia’s photo to all the departments up and down the I-5 corridor. Keep sharing her image on social media and asking your friends and family to do the same.”

  “There has to be something else you can do.”

  For a moment, Ms. Nunez disappeared, and I was looking into the scared face of my own mother, promising I’d protect her. I would not make that promise again. “I’m sorry, Ms. Nunez. We’re doing everything we can.”

  She dissolved into tears. As I helped her gather up her things and showed her to the door, frustration ate away at me. I’d become a police officer to help people, and I was sick of blowing smoke up their asses as I did nothing. Irritated, I stormed into Sergeant Wilkens
’s office.

  The sergeant took one look at my face and invited me to close the door and have a seat.

  I refused the chair, pacing from one wall to the next as he finished typing something. When his gaze finally came back to me, his expression was wary and annoyed. “What can I help you with, Officer Petrov?”

  “Have Franks and Scott found anything on the Serpents?”

  He stared at me for a solid sixty seconds before light dawned in his eyes. “Ah. The Nunez case. They’ve been running surveillance on the compound, but haven’t seen anything suspicious yet.”

  Nothing suspicious? The Serpents were outlaws, not choir boys. Everything they did was suspicious. Franks and Scott had been monitoring the compound for days. Surely they should have seen something by now. “I’d like to request permission to take over surveillance of the motorcycle gang.”

  He folded his arms over his ample stomach and leaned back in his chair. “Request denied.” I started to object, but he cut me off. “I know this is personal for you, considering what happened to your mother. But you’re an officer of the law now, Petrov. You can’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

  I stared at him, trying to wrap my mind around what he’d said. What he’d implied. I gave a damn about the civilians who were disappearing, so the bastard was accusing me of being too emotional to do my job? “I’m sorry, sir, but have I ever allowed my emotions to get in the way of my job before?”

  “This case is unusual. I wouldn’t want you to make a mistake.”

  “That’s why you benched me when the girls started coming up missing?” I asked, still unwilling to believe my ears.

  “I remember what happened before you went into the academy. You were late starting your training, if I recall correctly. We spoke about your mother and how she overdosed, how you believed it was that motorcycle gang back in Vegas. Now, one little girl makes a statement about some biker and you’re ready to fire up the stakes and storm their compound.”