Tap'd Out

by Harley Stone

  Tap

  Current Day

  RUNNING MY THUMB over the embossed gold lettering of a passport, I silently reminded myself I had options. Contingency plans were my specialty, and I’d spent years building the sort of exit strategies that would cover my ass and destroy my tracks in case the shit hit the fan.

  I always had multiple ways out.

  Opening the little blue booklet, I flipped the front page to find my image staring back at me. The name listed—Michael James—was one of many aliases I’ve used over the years. As for my given name, I’d buried that shit so deep, not even my own mama dug it up anymore.

  I returned my attention to the email on my laptop screen. Titus Blackoak, yet another alias, had been requested for a gig. I never went anywhere blind, so, like always, I’d screened the shit out of my potential client, finding not only a legitimate job but also a golden opportunity.

  And a huge fucking risk.

  My gaze swept over the collection of listening devices sitting on top of my desk. So many options, just waiting to be utilized: pens, USB drives, power strips, cell phone bugs. Some had ranges exceeding twenty feet, some could use cell towers to upload data remotely. Each device had the potential to infiltrate unnoticed and help us stay one step ahead of the threat to our club.

  Our club.

  The words sounded possessive and sentimental even in my own mind. I’d never been much of a team player, but my career path had turned me into a solid lone wolf until I threw my lot in with the Dead Presidents Motorcycle Club. It was foolish to trust anyone after the shit I’d seen and heard, but my club brothers had gotten under my skin like a rash that no cream would cure.

  Most people would say I had trust issues, but it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you and I knew at least a dozen homicidal assholes who’d move heaven and earth to find me if they so much as caught scent of my trail. Link, the club’s president, had given me the road name “Tap” because of my skill with wire taps, but I accepted it because I knew the truth: When shit got complicated, I tapped out and disappeared.

  After all, I had responsibilities to consider.

  Those responsibilities should have made me follow my self-imposed protocol the second the Seattle Serpents kidnapped Link’s sister, Naomi. I shouldn’t be sitting at my desk considering an op that could put me and everything I cared about in danger. No, it was past time to get the hell out of Dodge and start a new life for myself. That would be the smart, safe thing to do. Yet here I sat, staring at the screen and thinking about risking it all to help my brothers. Why? It had been almost a year since I’d patched in, and being part of something with a purpose and a mission had planted a seed of loyalty in my soul.

  I refused to water that little motherfucker, but it just wouldn’t die.

  Concepts like brotherhood and loyalty should have bounced right off me. I lived in a complicated minefield where one wrong step could destroy everything I’d built. The last thing I needed was to strengthen the ties keeping me in Seattle, but I wasn’t ready to take an evac quite yet. Locking the passport back in my desk drawer with the others, I scanned the email one more time before accepting the job and sealing my fate.

  No giant anvil fell on my head, no squad busted in with M16s, tear gas, and truth serum to take me down and uncover all my secrets, but I knew that shit was coming so I had to prepare. Leaving my basement office, I headed upstairs to my bedroom and exchanged my sweats and T-shirt for khakis, loafers, a polo shirt, and glasses. In this getup, I looked like any other nine-to-five stiff preparing to hit the office and join the grind.

  The smell of fried bacon called me to the kitchen where I found my mother plating breakfast as she watched the news. She wore a long purple and gold skirt and blouse, her skin the color of dark chocolate and her complexion as perfect as the tight curls on her head. Mama always held her head high and her standards higher. Her smile was genuine, brightening her entire face, as she added eggs to platters. “Good morning, Alex.”

  Alexander Watson had been my identity since we’d moved to Seattle almost two years ago. A common enough name, it helped me blend in without sounding fake, especially now that Mama mostly remembered to use it.

  “Mornin’, Mama,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek as I reached around and snagged a slice of bacon.

  “Boy, do that again and see if I don’t cut your hand off,” she grumbled, handing me my plate.

  “Sure you will,” I replied, setting the plate on the bar. If I had a dollar for every time Mama had threatened to maim me, I wouldn’t need to work at all. Despite all her talk, she was a five-foot-five softie. Two years ago, I’d shown up on her doorstep holding a one-year-old I’d just found out was mine and a crazy-ass story about the people looking for us. Mama hadn’t hesitated to quit her job, cut all ties, and head across the country with me and my daughter.

  “You hear about this college admissions scam?” she asked, gesturing wildly at the television with her spatula.

  I shrugged. “It shouldn’t surprise you, Mama. The wealthy have been paying their way through the government and institutions for years. If they wanted a guarantee that their child would make enrollment, the parents should have paid for a school wing like they did in the old days.”

  She shook her head. “It’s a damn shame. All that money, and they still can’t afford to pay attention. If they really wanted their kids to prosper, they’d teach them how to listen and learn. People need to close their pocketbooks and open their ears for once. Maybe then we wouldn’t have so many entitled little shits running around. Our Hailey will be different. That girl will learn the value of listening and learning.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I agreed. Agreeing was the only possible course of action when she went off on one of her rants.

  “That girl’s gonna earn everything she gets.”

  “Oh?” I asked. “I take it you’ve been working with her about picking up her toys.”

  Mama dropped her gaze. “She’s only three. We can let her be a baby for a little while longer.”

  “I’m sure you had me cleaning up my own toys at three.”

  “That’s different. You’re my son. She’s my grandbaby. I needed you to get your lazy ass out of bed and contribute. All Hailey has to do is smile at me, and that’s contribution enough.”

  I chuckled. “That’s really messed up, you know that, right?”

  She shrugged. “I’m just being real with you, baby.”

  As if summoned by our discussion, my now three-year-old, curly-haired whirlwind came blowing into the kitchen wearing a long pink nightgown with her hair sticking up in all directions, looking like a pocket-sized Tina Turner from the 80’s. “Daddy!” she shouted, clinging to my leg like my own personal sock monkey.

  I dipped down and picked her up. “Mornin’ sweetheart,” I said before blowing raspberries against her cheek until she giggled and squirmed out of my arms. “I have a surprise for you and Mama.”

  Her eyes grew almost as big as her smile. “A supwise? What is it?”

  “A trip to Wolf Water Park.”

  She squealed in delight before settling down enough to demand, “You come too.”

  “No, baby. I can’t this time. I have to work. But you and Mama are gonna have a blast. I want to hear all about it when you get home.”

  “How many days do you need us to stay at the lodge?” Mama asked, not missing a beat. I wasn’t sure whether she fully grasped how dangerous the people from my past were, or if she thought it was only in my mind—hell, sometimes I wondered if I’d made everything up—but she was always quick to follow my instructions without question. I hadn’t sent her and Hailey away since we’d moved to Seattle, but we’d planned out several nearby places they could flee to just in case. She also knew where she could find a lockbox with my club president’s number, fake passports, and enough money to set her and Hailey up somewhere safe.

  There was a fine line between prepared and paranoid, and I skated that motherfucker every single day
.

  “I’m gonna need your help with a face tomorrow evening. Plan to leave right after that and stay through the weekend. I’ll let you know if plans change.”

  Mama served me a plate of breakfast and a pointed look, but she didn’t ask for details. I’d once told her that the less she knew the better, and whether she believed me or was humoring me, she bought in. “Be careful, Alex.”

  “I’m always careful. Besides, this is just a precaution while I work some shit out.”

  “Daddy, don’t say shit,” Hailey chided.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, baby, but you don’t say it either.” I picked her up and settled her on the booster seat strapped to the bar stool beside me as Mama added two more plates to the bar. “Deal?”

  “Deaw,” Hailey replied, grinning up at me, her big brown eyes full of mischief and wonder. “I’m goin’ down the big swide.” She picked up her fork and started tapping it against the table, singing about slides, unicorns, and bathing suits.

  Hailey was the only pure thing in my life, and I would do anything to keep her that way. She was my everything, the reason I kept going day after day. Watching her tap and sing without a care in the world, I had to fight the desire to grab her and run, to get the hell out of Seattle and let the Dead Presidents handle their own shit.

  But deep down, I knew Hailey and I couldn’t run forever, and the club was our best bet for a safe, stationary life. If anything happened to me, Link would be pissed that I hadn’t told him about my daughter, but he’d do everything in his power to protect her.

  “Be careful with that big slide,” I said, brushing her bangs away to kiss her forehead. “I love you more than anything in the world, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I wove you too, Daddy, but I’m big now. I don’t get hurt.”

  “I know, but let your grandmother go down the slide with you for my sake. Please?”

  She stared at me, contemplating. Then a bright smile spread across her face, lighting up the entire room. “Okay Daddy. I don’t want you to be scawed.”

  “Thanks, baby girl.”

  After breakfast, I continued the façade of a businessman, backing my nondescript silver Toyota Camry out of the garage and heading out of my peaceful Bellevue neighborhood toward the hustle and bustle of downtown Seattle. I needed to go to the club, but I never drove straight there.

  Don’t get me wrong, I trusted my patched brothers as much as I could trust anyone, but they wouldn’t learn where I lived or what I drove unless I was incapacitated and one of my contingency plans kicked in. In other words, over my dead or dying body. And that’s exactly when they’d find out about Hailey. Since the club was filled with nosy assholes, I drove to an office building with a private garage and parked, sliding my hanging parking pass over the rearview mirror.

  One of my shell companies owned the building. The purchase had been a necessary gamble, but like my side hustle, it was paying off. Diversification made it harder for anyone to track me down, so I kept eggs in multiple baskets, juggling the shit out of them when necessary.

  I’d worked for the government long enough to learn how to evade it.

  Carrying my laptop bag, I took the elevator to my third-floor office (high enough for safety, low enough to appear unimportant) and let myself into the small space rented by a second shell company. Turning off the alarm, I glanced around the office to make sure nothing was out of place before disarming the lock on the supply closet and stepping inside.

  Weapons lined the shelves of one wall. It wasn’t a full armory, more like an option. The past three years had been quiet, but I wasn’t about to let that lull me into complacency. If someone from my past surfaced, I had enough firepower in this closet to get me and my family out of the city and dissuade a tail.

  I wasn’t here for guns today, though. Instead, I headed to the organized bins of clothing on the opposite wall. There, I exchanged one costume for the next, removing my business casual wear to don jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots.

  The shelf on the back wall held nothing but an ethernet cable. I plugged my laptop into it and entered a series of secure passwords, logging into the building’s security system. Checking the live camera feeds covering all three parking garage exits, I watched and waited, making sure I hadn’t picked up a tail and that no one was waiting to ambush me. Once satisfied, I removed my glasses, popped in a pair of contacts, stuffed my laptop into a backpack, traded out my keys, locked up, and took the stairs up to the fourth-floor garage. I headed to what should be a janitor’s closet, but had been rented out to a third shell company.

  This was where I kept Valkyrie.

  She was a 2016 semi-matte black Harley Softtail Fat Boy “Special,” with a massive 110 cubic inch twin cam engine. The rear had been widened with a Rick’s Trick’n’Roll kit with redirection, it had no rear taillight. I’d opted for two bullet turn signals instead. She was the slickest looking bitch on two wheels, and I’d named her Valkyrie because she resurrected something inside of me every time I slid my leg over her saddle. My cut was draped across the seat, so I took off my backpack long enough to slide it over my shoulders and complete my ensemble.

  Now, I was Tap.

  It started as just another role, played to provide the ultimate safety net for my family, but over the past year, it had become much more. I liked being Tap. Too bad he wasn’t real.

  ***

  On my way to speak with Link, I passed through the common area of the old fire station that served as our club headquarters to find Naomi sitting behind the bar, nursing a bottle of water. She smiled up at me as I approached.

  “Hey, Tap, can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

  “I’ll take one of those, please,” I said, pointing at her bottle.

  “Water?” she asked, her brows creeping up her forehead. “You do know we have whiskey, right?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “Not much? What does that mean? You don’t pop a nipple on the bottle and suck it down like the rest of these bastards? Or you wait until after noon to launch attacks on your liver?”

  “I don’t touch the shit at all.”

  “As in ever?”

  “Yeah. My dad was an alcoholic. They say shit like that runs in the family, and I never wanted to take the chance.” The practiced lie slipped easily from my lips; it was the same excuse I’d given my club brothers every time they tried to pour shit down my throat. Truthfully, my sobriety was about control. I worked my ass off to get it, and I’d be damned if I’d let it slip through my grasp for some temporary reprieve from reality.

  Normally, people responded to the lie about my dad with meaningless words of apology or stories of their own family drunks, but Naomi just cocked her head to the side and studied me as she pulled a water from the fridge and set it down on the bar.

  “Thanks. Link here?” I asked, feeling a little uneasy at the way she was watching me.

  “Yep, but he’s in a meeting with the officers. They should be out soon. Have a seat.” She nodded at the stool in front of me.

  I didn’t want to sit and talk to Naomi. The few interactions I’d had with her had revealed her to be smart and observant, basically the last kind of person I needed all up in my business. I was having a hard enough time fending off tracking devices planted by Morse, the club’s computer guru, and dodging the incessant questions of Wasp, the club’s vice president. Still, she was the president’s sister, so I sat my ass down.

  Watching me as she took another sip from her bottle. “Tell me about yourself. What’s your story?”

  “My story?”

  “Yeah, your story. You’re here when Link needs you to do shit, but you never stick around for the parties. You don’t drink, none of the club whores have touched you, and nobody seems to know what you do for a living or where you live. You’re an anomaly.”

  Shit. Naomi had been looking into me. “I didn’t realize you were interested,” I replied, playing
off her attention with a smirk. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Eagle would kick my ass.”

  She shook her head, but the corners of her lips twitched as the club princess fought off a smile. “Yes, he would, but trust me, that man keeps me more than happy. I’m not looking to stray, Tap. I’m watching my brother’s back.”

  “Oh, come on now. We both know Link can take care of himself.”

  “Give me something.” She was like a dog with a bone. “I don’t even know how you got your name. Tap. That’s unusual.”

  “No, it’s boring. When I met Link, I was pulling taps over at Full Moon Bar.” That lie was expected. People always asked how I got my road name and I didn’t think it was any of their business, so I told everyone a different story.

  Naomi scoffed, not buying it for a second. “Link trusts people. Sometimes a little too much.”

  The club was made up of military veterans. Some had joined because they believed in the cause and wanted to help, but most had stumbled upon the Dead Presidents because their time in the service had altered their reality and they could no longer reconcile with their old lives. They needed a chain of command and the kind of accountability that would kick their ass if they stepped out of line. Link had only been the president for a few years, and due to recent events, he was learning he couldn’t save everyone. No matter how much he wanted to.

  “It’s a good thing he has people like us to watch his back, then,” I replied, trying to put myself in her camp. “I work evenings for an internet security firm, Naomi. I’ve got a steady girlfriend and a life outside of this club. I only joined up because I appreciate what Link’s doing and I want to help.” The lies spilling out of my mouth sounded believable, and I wished like hell they were true. Knowing I needed to divert the conversation and get her off my ass, I threw in, “Your turn.”

  She gave me a slow chuckle, eyeing me all the while. “Link told me you were in intelligence. I’m sure you already know more about me than I do.”