Tap'd Out Page 7

  “Easy,” I said, lowering her down to stand on her own.

  She wobbled like she was about to fall. I held onto her as she took a pained breath and looked around. “Who are you? Where are we?”

  Ignoring her first question, I answered the second, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  Her eyes closed and her shoulders slumped. “No. Dammit. Damn you. You’re the stripper from the party. I told you to leave me.”

  Shocked, I stared at her wondering how high she had to be to want to be left in a place like that. She didn’t look like the other Serpent women. There was something different about the way she held herself, about the way she stared me down. “Leave you to get your ass kicked? Again?” I asked.

  “You don’t understand. I was one of them. They jumped me in.”

  “Into their club?” Nothing she said made sense. “You want to be with those assholes? After they fucked you up like this? You want to be a Serpent?”

  “Yes. No. It’s a long story.”

  “Look, babe, you need a hospital. Not a room full of drunk homicidal maniacs.”

  She glanced at the building in front of us. “No hospital. They’ll find me. It’ll look weak. I can’t chance my boss finding out what happened. It’s too risky.”

  Now thoroughly confused and about two seconds from slinging her ass back over my shoulder and marching her in, I met her one-eyed gaze. “You’re bleeding. You need stitches.”

  She glanced down at her leg, and then back to me. “It’s nothing. The missing girls are counting on me. If you take me in that hospital, you kill them all.”

  “What missing girls?”

  “Take me somewhere else and I’ll explain everything. Please. Just no hospital, no police.”

  She was scared, beaten, and dead on her feet. She swayed, gritting her teeth against the pain and looking like she could topple over at any time. Despite the cool night air, sweat beaded against her pale skin. Against my better judgment, I picked her up and headed back to the car. As I dumped her in the back seat, she passed out again. Swearing, I took my wife beater out of my bag and tied it just above the wound on her thigh to stanch the blood flow.

  Then, with no other options, I took her to my house.

  Tap

  AS I PACED in front of the woman asleep on the sofa in my basement, I tried to come up with a game plan, but nothing in my training had prepared me for this. No, I’d slammed the door on my training the second I hoisted this beauty over my shoulder, and now I was so far out of my element I could barely think. A woman I’d just met—who clearly had ties with the Seattle Serpents—was in my personal space.

  And I brought her here.

  I had to be losing my mind to do something so fucking stupid.

  But I wasn’t entirely out of options. This broad didn’t know who I was, and since I was still wearing the makeup mama had painted me up with, my real face remained hidden. She could probably pick me out of a lineup, but only with my shirt off.

  And it wasn’t like I’d been careless. Before bringing her to my house, I took apart her cell phone and searched her purse and body for taps or wires. Then I blindfolded her, unwilling to take the chance that she’d sleep through the ride. She didn’t even stir as I parked in the garage, carried her down to the basement, laid her on the sofa, and removed her blindfold.

  We’d been home for almost an hour and she was still out cold, which was worrisome.

  The cut on her arm was shallow, but the one on her thigh looked bad. I’d never stitched anyone up in my life. If I was into that sort of shit, I would have become a medic, not an intelligence officer. I could call Mama home since she knew how to sew, but I refused to bring her into this mess. No, she and Hailey needed to stay far away until I got rid of our visitor.

  I’ll just look up a how-to video. No biggie.

  As I pulled out my cell to do that, it vibrated with an incoming call from Link. Hoping he’d come up with some sort of solution to the problem stretched out on my sofa, I accepted the call and put it to my ear. “Hey Prez.”

  “I’m gonna kick your ass for hanging up on me earlier. I need you to know that.”

  Some things never changed, and I wouldn’t expect less from the president. Chuckling, I shook my head. “I was kind of busy at the time, and since you wouldn’t help…”

  “Oh, I was offering help, just not the kind you wanted. How’s the package? Have you figured out what to do with it yet?”

  I glanced at the woman who was still out cold. “Negative.”

  “I can still send Havoc to help. He and Julia are at the bar having a drink with Stocks.”

  And have one more person find out where I lived? “Thanks, but I’m home now.”

  “Yeah? So? You said you still need help.”

  Link knew what was up, so why was he making me spell it out for him? “You know I’m a private man, Prez.”

  I expected him to go off, to give me more of his ‘shit or get off the pot’ speech, but instead, he let out a frustrated breath and mumbled, “Twenty-seven.”

  What the fuck is twenty-seven?

  The wheels in my head spun before they finally sparked and sputtered out. I had nothing. Link knew I couldn’t let shit I didn’t know slide, so he liked to throw out some random word or number and let it eat at me until I asked what it was. I was too damn curious for my own good and I couldn’t resist knowledge. The bastard used it against me. Determined not to give in, I said, “Sounds like we have nothing more to discuss.”

  “Oh, we have all sorts of shit to talk about, you’re just too chicken to do it.”

  Now, he was baiting me. My thumb hovered over the “end call” button, but I couldn’t do it. Throwing my head back, I gave in. “What the fuck is twenty-seven?”

  “It’s the number of funerals I’ve attended this year for vets who didn’t have anyone else.” His voice was suddenly somber, serious. “Earlier, when you called, I was on the phone with the Patriot Guard Riders, learning about number twenty-eight. It’s being held tomorrow at Green Hills Funeral Home. Twenty-eight of our brothers who served our country only to come back and die alone. They lived here, in our city, and we didn’t reach them, didn’t find them in time. Think about that shit for a second.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. Everyone knew Link had connections with the Patriot Guard Riders who sometimes sent him details about the funerals of veterans without family, but I had no idea he’d attended that many. We were in August, so he was attending between three and four every month.

  “It’s a hell of a way to go,” Link continued. “Nobody to mourn them. Nobody to share stories about the crazy shit they did or talk about the good ol’ days. It’s like these vets just cease to exist and nobody even gives a fuck. They need a club of brothers who have their back and will stand beside their graves, drinkin’ and shootin’ the shit about them. Hell, the worst way someone can die is forgotten and alone. You’re a part of something here with us, Tap. You make a difference. If, God forbid, you died today, we’d tell stories and drink at your funeral, we’d make sure your responsibilities were taken care of, and nobody would forget the shit you accomplished. We’d keep your memory alive.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said the only thing I could. “Thank you.”

  “We’re family, and that’s what family does. I don’t need your thanks; I need your goddamn trust. It’s time for you to start acting like a relative, brother. Time for you to trust us to have your back. Reach out to Havoc and tell him where you are. He’s one useful motherfucker and he has my full confidence and authority.”

  Havoc would know where I lived. There was no way the club’s sergeant at arms would meet me somewhere and let me blindfold him to get him in and out of my neighborhood. And if he knew where I lived, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the club figured it out. Even if Havoc didn’t tell anyone, Morse would put a tracker on Havoc’s bike or Wasp would tail him. The life I’d built here would change for
ever, or until I packed up my family and moved. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do more than think about it. I’ve been beyond patient with you, but it’s time for you to make a decision. The club chose you a year ago when we patched you in. Now it’s time for you to choose us. You’re either all in, or you’re all out. Your decision.”

  I couldn’t believe he was giving me an ultimatum. “It’s like that, huh?” I asked.

  “Has to be. A club is a pack, not a collection of scattered lone wolves. We stand together or we won’t survive. Call Havoc.” Link disconnected.

  I understood Link’s position, but I liked shit the way it was—keeping the club at arm’s length while still participating—and I didn’t want anything to change. Frustrated and wondering what to do, I dropped my phone on the desk and collapsed in my chair.

  ***

  Sasha

  My dreams were a fitful mess of broken images and scattered emotions. Breaker. Betrayal. Chloe, winding up to kick me. Pain. An impossibly handsome stripper, his golden-brown skin glistening as his muscles flexed to pick me up. Peace. The backseat of a car. Confusion. A hospital. Fear.

  The sound of something dropping startled me awake. One of my eyes was glued shut, but with the other, I scanned the area. There were no windows. Only the glow of four monitors mounted to a wall illuminated the area. The monitors showed doors and windows of a building I did not recognize, it looked like some sort of security feed.

  A door with a ten-key pad was to the right of the monitors. A second door was located on the wall to the left. Half of the room had been set up as a small gym. Dumbbells were racked beside a weight bench, a yoga mat covered part of the floor, and a treadmill rested in the corner.

  The other half of the space was an office. A mahogany desk stood in the center of the area with two monitors and a laptop perched on top of it. Two tall filing cabinets stood against the wall. The stripper from last night sat in a high-backed leather chair in front of the desk, his head thrown back to stare at the ceiling. He was still wearing the yellow suspenders, leaving his magnificent chest on full display. A pair of black sweats rode low on his hips, and his feet were bare.

  His head dropped and he leveled a stare at me. “You’re awake.”

  It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.” My voice sounded scratchy, and my throat felt raw. Swinging my legs around, I sat up. Pain hammered my head. I tried to cradle it in my hands, but they were trapped beneath a giant sweatshirt. The stripper had taken me from the party, dressed me, and brought me to his gym/office.

  “Can I get you something for the pain? Ibuprofen? Vicodin?”

  I had to think about that for a minute. There was so much shit running through my system, I had no idea how Vicodin would react to it. I was in a lot of pain, but after watching my mother struggle with addiction, I wasn’t willing to take the chance. “Ibuprofen. Please. And water.”

  He stood and strode past me toward the inside door. I was wearing an oversized sweatshirt like a poncho. I had no idea where it had come from, and I was too warm in it, so I raised the arm that wasn’t hurting, and tugged it off. Looking down at the front of myself, I realized my dress was ruined and tried to stretch enough fabric forward to cover myself. A gaping “V” still left most of my right boob exposed, so I gave up and draped the sweatshirt over my chest. When my rescuer returned, he carried two small orange pills and a glass of water. He handed everything to me and leaned against the desk.

  “Who are you and why did you want to get jumped into the Serpents?” he asked.

  Apparently, we were getting right into the Q&A session, and without any manners. Reminding myself that this guy had been in Buzz’s house, too, I played my hand as close to the chest as I could. “My name is Sasha Petrov. Sorry, I don’t remember yours.”

  “I didn’t give it.” I waited for him to rectify that oversight, but he stared straight ahead, waiting for me to continue.

  “Are you with the Serpents?” I asked.

  “If I was, do you think I would have taken you out of there?”

  No. Maybe. This could all be another one of Breaker’s tests, but that didn’t make sense. It seemed like he would have tested me before he had his girlfriend and her girl-powered-up thugs beat the shit out of me. I’d survived their beatdown, so I was basically property of the club. I was in. Or, at least, I should be. That sure made shit complicated.

  “Why were you getting jumped into the Serpents?” he asked.

  I couldn’t trust the guy. He pulled me out of Buzz’s office—against my will—screwing up my whole plan, and he wouldn’t even give me his name? Two could play that game. “I’ve been thinking about a career change for some time and they offered quite the package: medical, dental, 401(k), travel option, long motorcycle rides on the beach. How could I pass that up?”

  The side of his mouth quirked up. “Great. A smartass.”

  “I’d rather be a smartass than a nameless one.” I was being careless and disrespectful, but I was too irritated to care. Who did this guy think he was? He’d basically kidnapped me, and now he was demanding answers? Hell to the no.

  He chuckled. “You can call me Rob.”

  I could call him that, but it sure as hell wasn’t his name. I’d bet money on that and take it right to the bank. “Alright, Rob, what else do you want to know?”

  “You haven’t answered my first question. Why would someone so beautiful and obviously intelligent and witty want to join up with the likes of the Serpents? You don’t fit the mold.”

  “Rob” knew nothing about me, yet he was making all sorts of assumptions. And it was stupid and immature, but all I could focus on was the way he’d called me beautiful. I was a mess. Was he blind?

  “Why were you at Buzz’s?” I fired back. “You’re obviously more than some common stripper. You on their payroll?”

  His grin only widened. “I tried to take you to a hospital, and you flipped out. Said if I stayed away from hospitals and cops, you’d tell me everything. Start singin’, little bird.”

  “Or, you could just let me leave and we can pretend this whole kidnapping thing never happened.”

  “Kidnapping? You mean saving your ass from whoever beat the shit out of you? Were you hopin’ for a repeat performance? You into that masochistic shit?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s none of your business since I asked you to leave me. You should have respected my wishes. Hasn’t anyone told you about women’s choice?”

  His jaw ticked. I couldn’t tell if he was trying not to glare or trying not to laugh. “Decent deflection, but it needs work because if you really don’t want to be here, I have no objections to dropping your ass off at the hospital or the Seattle PD. Hell, it would make my life much easier. You have no idea the shitstorm your presence is causing.”

  I chewed on that for a moment, wondering what kind of trouble he was talking about, but I could tell he was serious. And I wasn’t about to push him further. If he dumped me off at either of those places, I was a dead woman.

  I had to trust someone.

  Why not the sexy stripper who’d risked his life to get me out of Buzz’s house? If he chose to kill me, at least I’d die staring at his fantastic pecs.

  “I’m with the Seattle PD. I’m officer Sasha Petrov.”

  His eyebrows rose. “So… you’re undercover?”

  I could tell this was going to take a while. “Not exactly.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and gave me a respectable ‘don’t bullshit me’ glare. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re up to, then?”

  Regardless of how complicated this stranger had made my mission, he had rescued me. He saw a woman in a dangerous situation and took her out of it against her will.

  How many times had I wanted to do that for a domestic violence victim?

  In his shoes, I would have probably done the same thing. As misguided and unwelcome as that rescue had been, it showed character and a willingness to put himself in dan
ger to help others. Especially since he obviously knew who Buzz was. In fact, he knew far too much for some run-of-the-mill stripper.

  Maybe he’s a fed?

  That would explain why he was so secretive and why his security seemed so tight. I was usually good at reading people, and despite his obviously fake name, “Rob” seemed legitimate. I was in over my head with the Serpents, and I needed someone to talk to, maybe even bounce ideas off. More than that, I had to get back to Breaker so he knew I was still in. And since my mysterious rescuer was parked between me and the most-likely locked door that led out, I didn’t have much of a choice. So, I opened my mouth and sang him the full tune, starting with missing girl cases. I told him everything.

  Well, not quite everything. I brushed over the sex with Breaker.

  Not because I was interested in Rob, per se, but because I didn’t want him to think I was a slut.

  And Rob was hot.

  After I finished, my rescuer launched a string of questions at me. He was sharp and intuitive, and every ounce of information he pulled from me made my mind spin a little faster. I’d missed so much trying to do this alone while Breaker kept me doped up. I seriously could have used Rob’s mind while I was in the compound.

  He had to be a fed or something comparable.

  Wincing while I leaned forward, I said, “I didn’t think about getting the blueprints for the compound. That’s brilliant, um… Rob.”

  He considered me for a moment before correcting me. “Tap.”

  I’d given him all sorts of information, and he was finally handing me a crumb. Tap was a strange name but it felt honest, so I rolled with it. “Nice to finally meet you, Tap. I’m not gonna thank you for taking me out of Buzz’s office, since that was right where I needed to be and I’m still salty about being abducted. But I will thank you for bringing me somewhere safe. Where are we, anyway?”