Tap'd Out

by Harley Stone

  He shook his head. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Those wounds need to be cleaned and I’m pretty sure your leg needs a couple of stitches.”

  He was right. If I had any hopes of making it back to Breaker, I needed to prioritize first aid. “I need a shower. Do you have a bathroom around here?”

  He pointed to the door he’d disappeared behind to get me water and pain pills.

  I pushed myself up to stand. My vision went white and my legs buckled, depositing my ass right back on the sofa. The pain throbbed and I sucked down a couple of deep breaths trying to deal.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  The question took me by surprise. Breaker had stripped away my consent the second he drugged me and pulled me onto his lap. Nobody had asked for my permission since. Yet this sexy, half-dressed muscular stripper wanted to help me. I stared into his eyes, searching for a motive or some dark intent. His gaze met mine, intense and haunted, full of secrets and pain, and the torment in him called to the anguish in me.

  He’d rescued me, stopped me from bleeding out, and brought me to his house, possibly endangering himself in the process. He’d already helped me more than any of my coworkers, and those assholes had pledged their lives to serving and protecting. “You already are.”

  He looked pointedly at my leg. “I can do more. I can carry you, if it’s okay?”

  His remarkably toned biceps, abs, and chest were right there in my face, making every cell in my body painfully aware of how attractive he was. I didn’t want to appear weak, but stubborn and stupid were equally unattractive qualities.

  Wishing for some sort of inner strength I didn’t quite feel, I nodded. “Please do.”

  He picked me up, cradling me in his arms like a child. With my cheek nestled against his heart, I breathed him in and relaxed. Something deep inside me recognized that this man had saved me, and I felt safe, protected, even from myself. I’d told him everything, and he hadn’t turned me away. In fact, he’d insisted that I stay with him until I could walk. For some reason, this sexy, distrustful man seemed determined to keep me alive. Although I didn’t understand his motivation, I found comfort in the way he seemed to care about my survival.

  He carried me into a small bathroom with a full-sized shower that had a built-in seat. His body grew increasingly tense the closer we came to the stall. “How do you want to do this?” he asked.

  Wanting to dispel the tension and reassure him I was okay, I replied, “I want you to hold the water above me, so I can throw back my head all sexy-like. Like that scene in Flashdance.”

  He chuckled, visibly relaxing. “You really are a smartass, aren’t ya? I’ll tell you what. I’ll set you down on the seat, turn on the water, and give you the hose, and you can recreate whatever scene you want.”

  I smiled at him. “Deal.” He set me down and I tossed the borrowed sweatshirt onto the bathroom floor and realized the flaw in our plan. My left shoulder felt like it was out of the socket and there was no conceivable way for me to remove my dress. “Do you have a pair of scissors I could borrow?” Between the blood and the rip down the front, the dress was ruined anyway.

  “You want me to arm you?” he asked.

  “Or help me cut off my dress. It’s not getting over my shoulders.”

  “You should have let me take you to the hospital. I get why you didn’t, but…” His eyes darkened as his gaze took in my battered body again—avoiding my exposed boob like a gentleman—no doubt seeing me as some sort of victim.

  I wanted none of his pity. I wasn’t a victim, I was an insubordinate suspended police officer who made questionable decisions in what started as the pursuit of justice but had now morphed into a raging hard-on for revenge. After everything Breaker had done to me, this case was very personal. Taking him down would be the highlight of my career to date. “Hey, I’ll be fine. You should see the other guy.”

  It took a moment for him to gobble down the bait, but his gaze finally drifted back to mine. “There was another guy?”

  “Yeah, and I did some serious rearranging of his face. They had to carry his ass out on a stretcher,” I lied.

  Tap shook his head, chuckling as he retrieved a pair of scissors. “You’re something else, Officer Petrov.”

  I didn’t know if he meant it as a compliment, but I thanked him anyway. “You’re not bad yourself, Tap of the no last name and undisclosed location.”

  Since my shoulder couldn’t be bothered with doing anything helpful like moving, he helped me cut my dress off, averting his eyes the entire time. For being a stripper, he sure seemed sketched out about seeing me naked. Wondering if it was only because my injuries made him uncomfortable, I said, “I’m not breakable, you know?”

  “Yeah, but you sure do bruise and bleed a lot.”

  This time, it was my turn to chuckle. “Ah. You got jokes, too, huh? Good. I was beginning to worry about you.”

  He dipped his head as he tossed my dress in the garbage. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not just a pretty face. I have feelings, too.”

  Tap had a lot more going on than his looks and his feelings. The man was downright intriguing, and I’d just barely scratched the surface. Telling him my story had shifted something between us. He was still secretive and closed off as hell, but at least he was joking with me now. I could work with that. Maybe I could even get him to release me so I could go find Breaker before it was too late.

  Once Tap got the water to an acceptable temperature, he took down the shower head and handed me the hose, putting shampoo, conditioner, soap, and a wash rag all within reach. “This should keep you busy for a while. I’ll be in the other room; holler if you need anything.” He hung a clean towel on the shower door. “For when you’re finished.”

  I thanked him again as he slipped out the door. Then I got busy washing away the past few hours, muttering under my breath every time the soap stung a cut. Yes, Breaker was going to pay for what he’d done to me.

  Tap

  SASHA NEEDED A doctor—and a shrink—not necessarily in that order. In addition to her visible wounds, Sergeant Wilkens, Breaker, and this whole fucked up situation had done a number on her psyche. As she spoke about the shit she was going through, I paid attention to all the things she didn’t come right out and say.

  She was trying to be strong. She covered up the hardest parts with a mix of vague descriptions and humor. Her eyes softened every time she brought up the missing girls. Her lips thinned and her jaw tensed at the mention of the drugs Breaker had given her. She seemed like a good person who legitimately cared about others and wanted to make the world a better place. I listened for hidden motives or inconsistencies, but everything sounded like it was on the up and up. Still, I knew better than to take anyone at their word. So, as she showered, I grabbed the ID out of her wallet, hopped online, and ran a background check on her. By the time she hollered for me to turn the water off, I was confident that either Sasha Petrov was everything she claimed to be, or she was even better at covering her tracks than I was. Since nothing about her screamed cyber genius, I chose to believe the former.

  After I turned off the water and she toweled off, I grabbed a bottle of peroxide and started disinfecting her wounds. She winced as the cut on her leg bubbled. Pulling the bottle away, I waited until she took a deep breath and nodded for me to continue. To distract her from the pain, I struck up a conversation.

  “Who’s the addict in your family?” I asked.

  She gave me a confused look. “I never said there was an addict.”

  “Maybe not with your words, but you said it.” Only an idiot could have missed her body language.

  “My mom. After my dad’s death, she… she made some shitty choices. She died a few years ago trying to get out of the lifestyle.”

  “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t imagine losing Mama, especially not to something so preventable. My knowledge of the drug world was limited. As far as I knew, ecstasy and molly didn’t cause a physical dependency like heroin or coc
aine, but I didn’t know enough about hereditary addiction to understand the risk Sasha was facing. “Is any of the shit Breaker gave you habit forming?”

  She shrugged. “There’s no telling what he gave me for sure. While I was on it, my body was hyper-sensitive, and my mind was floaty. The withdraws were like PMS on steroids. The real danger of drugs like X and molly comes from the shit people cut it with and how it’s processed. You never really know what’s in there and what the effects will be. After a week straight of use, my nerves feel frayed, my attention span is shot all to hell, and the anxiety and sadness are real. I don’t think it’s addictive, though, because I have no desire to take anything ever again.”

  “That’s why you turned down the Vicodin?”

  She nodded. “I don’t mess around with any of it. Well… I didn’t. When I had a choice.”

  “You were between a rock and a hard place.” And now I understood just how important to her that mission had been. She’d risked everything: her body, her mind, her sanity, and Breaker had been all too willing to accept her sacrifice.

  “I’m still gonna get those girls out of there,” Sasha replied.

  I didn’t see how, but I nodded.

  “I mean it. I know you think I’m crazy, but I won’t let him win.”

  She desperately needed a reality check, so I gave her one. “Look at yourself. He already won.”

  “Just the round. I’ll take the battle.”

  God she was stubborn. And fiery. And the idea of her getting back into the ring with that fuckface made me want to lock her ass up so she couldn’t do anything stupid. “How? You planning to put on another sexy dress and go let him fuck with your head some more? Didn’t work so well the first time.”

  Her jaw tensed. “Mistakes were made, but I’ve learned from them.”

  “Not enough to come up with a game plan for a win.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  She was getting irritated with me, so I let the matter drop as I carried her back into the office and helped her dress in one of my wife beaters and a pair of gym shorts. We had to wrap the string of her borrowed shorts around her waist twice to keep them up. The wife beater was about three sizes too large, but the material still managed to cling to her round, perky breasts and showcase her sexy hourglass figure. God, the woman was gorgeous, and I felt like a pervert for checking her out after all she’d been through. I mean, one of her eyes was swollen shut, for fuck’s sake.

  I’d been willing to let our discussion go, but apparently Sasha had more to say. “You think you’re so damn smart? What would you do in my position?” she asked.

  I thought about it for a minute before answering, “I’d beat him at his own game.”

  “You’d drug him, fuck with his head, and have your girlfriend beat him up?”

  “No, I’m better than him. I could do it without drugs or a girlfriend. I’d tap into his life, make random purchases on his credit cards, fuck with his credit score, hack into his cell phone and send tiny dick picks to all his contacts. I’d break into his house and move his furniture around, maybe plant a couple of cameras. I’d drive him crazy until I caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing like fuckin’ around with someone’s girl or talkin’ shit about one of his brothers. People like Breaker think they’re untouchable, so they make stupid mistakes. I just need to catch him in one, send it to the right person, and bam, they’ll take care of my asshole problem for me.”

  Breaker thought he could play mind games? Please. The shit he’d pulled on Sasha was child’s play. I could have that motherfucker looking over his shoulder in no time. He’d work himself into a panic, wondering when and how I’d strike next, so goddamn terrified he had to wear an adult diaper to keep from shitting himself.

  Then I’d destroy him.

  “I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed,” Sasha replied. I could almost see the wheels spinning through her head as she thought through my suggestions. “But that would all take time… probably weeks, and it still doesn’t accomplish my main goal. As much as I’d love to take Breaker down, this isn’t about him. I need to get those girls out of there before he moves them. Or worse.”

  “By yourself, without cops or hospitals,” I added.

  She gave me a sad smile. “Yeah. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t just leave them there.”

  “Why not? You can’t infiltrate a motorcycle club compound alone. And pretend you do. Say, against all odds, you somehow slip past the recruit guarding the basement and break those girls free. What then? Do you just take them all home? You think the Serpents aren’t going to find out you were behind it? They’ll come for you.” No. That wasn’t strong enough wording. Shaking my head, I tried again. “They’ll make an example out of you, Sasha.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” The fear in her eyes told me she did. She knew exactly how this would end and she still insisted on doing it. “Every second I spend with Breaker is torture. Every text message he sends me, every sip I take in his presence, every time he touches me… he’ll break me eventually. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m in too deep now. He knows who I am, where I live, and someone at the department is helping him.”

  “You could leave,” I suggested.

  She shook her head. “He’d find me.”

  I snorted. “Not if I helped you.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little cocky?”

  “Nah. They’re usually too busy marveling at my skill to talk shit like that.” I gave her a grin.

  Chuckling, she shook her head. “I’m sure.”

  “I’m not all talk; I really am that good. I can make you disappear and no one would find you.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  It was good to know that even after all the shit she’d been through, the woman still had a sense of humor. “Not in a sleep-with-the-fishes kind of way. It’d be more like witness protection but without a paper trail. Nobody but you and me would know your new identity. You could have a new life, somewhere else, a chance to start over. You can forget all about Breaker and the Serpents.”

  She stared at me, seemingly considering the offer. “And what happens to the girls?”

  My answer for that wasn’t as promising. “We can send in an anonymous tip and trust the system to do its job. You’re one suspended cop; it’s not up to you to save anyone. You’ve gone above and beyond your duties already. Nobody expects more from you.” Hell, I was amazed she’d done this much. She had balls of steel and a backbone of iron.

  She dropped her gaze and looked away, picking at the hem of her borrowed shorts. “Wanna know why I became a police officer?”

  After everything she’d told me, I had a pretty good idea I knew the answer already. “Because of what happened with your mom?”

  “She never trusted cops, said they cared more about the law than the people. I promised her I’d be different, that my duty would be to serve and protect the public.”

  Curious, I asked, “What’d she say to that?”

  “That I’d try, but one bad apple will ruin a pie. One good apple won’t fix it.”

  “Solid. She was a wise woman.”

  Sasha’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “She wasn’t wise, she was hopeless. She watched the love of her life die and she lost hope and gave up. Had Mom been wise, she would have enrolled in college, made a career for herself, dug us out of the hole Dad’s death put us in. She was a single mother raising two girls. There are programs she could have taken advantage of. She had options. She chose drugs. She gave up on us, and herself, before the needle ever pierced her skin.”

  Harsh, but honest. Throwing her logic back at her, I said, “Some might argue that you gave up before you ever stepped into The Serpent’s Nest.”

  She stared at me for a solid minute before shaking her head with a chuckle. “I guess I am my mother’s child after all. I’ve made peace with my impending death, but the rest of my life will be spent getting those girls out of there.�
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  The woman had no sense of self-preservation. “Some things are what they are. You can’t change everything.”

  “I don’t believe that. Things change all the time. Evolution, birth, growth, death, war, erosion, everything we know is based on change. Regardless, it’s not my job to alter the path of the police force. It’s my duty to get those girls home safe.”

  I stared at her, amazed at the conviction in her voice. “You can’t do that alone.”

  “You offering to help me?”

  “On this suicide mission? No thank you. I’m not about to become the Clyde to your Bonnie, babe. That’s not how I roll.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. That was a failed attempt at sarcasm. I wouldn’t ask you to help me. I shouldn’t even be here putting you in danger. Nobody saw us leave together, did they?”

  “No. I handled it.”

  “You’re certain they won’t connect the dots?”

  I wasn’t, but I could guarantee that if they suspected and went searching for Titus Blackoak, they sure as hell wouldn’t find me. “Positive.”

  She eyed me skeptically. “You should take me home. You’re one of the good guys, and I don’t want you to get roped up in this.”

  “If I take you home, Breaker will come for you. You still don’t have a plan. I’m not letting you go back to the Serpent clubhouse all half-cocked and beaten black and blue. You need to relax. Chill the fuck out. Rest. Get your strength up and come up with a way to rescue those girls without getting the whole lot of you killed.”

  “You don’t really have the right to let me do anything, Tap. I know there’s wisdom in your words and I’m trying to focus on that so I don’t tell you to fuck off, but you don’t understand how dangerous these people are. What they’re capable of. You stuck your neck out for me when I needed help, and I don’t want them to find me here and punish you for it.”