Taz (Tarnished Souls MC Book 2)

by Dusty Lassetter

  Every day I sit by his side with the doctors coming and going, and the nurses constantly glancing at me with sympathy. I wonder what their faces would look like if they saw the way Slasher carved me up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.

  I hide the various colored bruises on my arms under long-sleeved shirts. The knots and welts on my knees and legs are concealed with loose fitting denim. When Taz wakes up, I don’t want him to see the aftermath of our time in hell. I just want him concentrating on his recovery.

  Everyone in the club, from my dad to the newest prospect, has tried to talk me into going home and coming back once he’s awake. Mia was the only one that said she understood what I’m feeling. No one would be able to talk her into leaving Torch, the man that turned out to be the love of her life. I remember when I was first introduced to Mia and her sisters. They had been abducted, by the same deranged psycho that did this to me and Taz, and held in a basement before the men of Tarnished Souls had found them. By the same monster that did this to me, and Taz. Slasher had help from people outside of the Blacktop Sinner’s MC. That’s why it took my dad’s club this long to figure out he was behind one of the biggest sex trafficking rings in Texas.

  Sammy, Rebecca, and Scarlett were the three girls found with Mia. They now consider themselves family. In some ways, they have formed a bond stronger than any blood could. Nothing makes you lean on a person like being locked away by a psycho. Just thinking about Scarlett sends a rush of jealousy through my blood stream. Turns out the quiet and timid girl everyone assumed was afraid of her own shadow slept with the man I love. I would never have guessed that, or even believed it, had Taz not bragged about it to push Slasher’s buttons. I don’t understand why that would bother Slasher, but it did. Not only was I held against a wall while he rearranged my skin, but I had to endure the pain of picturing Taz’s hands caressing one of my friends.

  “Hello dear,” Margret says. She is the only nurse on this floor that doesn’t make me want to jump in the shower and scrub my skin raw. When the other’s look at me, I feel like they can see the filth now covering my soul. I did things I’m not proud of with a man as evil as Hitler. I will never get the water in the shower hot enough, or the soap lathered enough, to scrub away the dirty feeling that lives beneath my skin. I brush my teeth at least twenty times a day. My bleeding gums, and raw tongue are just a reminder of how much I have let that monster affect me.

  “Good morning,” I quickly reply.

  “How’s he doing?” She asks, her upbeat voice giving me hope that today will be the day he wakes up.

  “I think I saw him twitch, but that could have been my imagination,” I declare. “He does that in his sleep.”

  “I had a husband that did that,” she responds. “I would always know when he was asleep because his hands would start twitching.”

  Every time I talk to Margret she starts off with, “I had a husband.” I’m starting to think she’s been married more than is legal. A short Italian woman with hair that is dyed to look her natural color, Margret is my saving grace every day.

  “You got any more of those hunky men coming to check on you today?” She asks, eyebrows bouncing up and down. “I love a man that wears leather.”

  “My dad is on his way,” I declare while watching her walk around to check Taz’s vitals.

  “You mean that handsome man with eyes the color of chocolate. I wouldn’t mind if he needed me to check his vitals,” she teases with a smile on her face.

  “Aren’t you afraid someone might think you’re inappropriate, Margret?” I question, wondering how a woman her age can say whatever is on her mind at the time.

  “This is the perfect age to get away with it, dearest. Half the people I talk to think I’m senile or at least halfway there. It makes being hands on easier,” she says with her hands making a gesture of fondling someone’s backside.

  Both our eyes shoot up to the doorway when someone clears their throat. I hadn’t noticed the door being opened, but I can’t say the same for Margret. My dad being within hearing distance wouldn’t stop her from saying what she wants.

  My dad is wearing his typical blue jeans and t-shirt. Since it’s cold outside, his leather jacket, which also displays his colors, is thrown over his cut. His hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it. There is definitely more grey merging in with the black.

  “I don’t think I’ve made a biker blush before,” Margret says, walking past my dad with a look of accomplishment in her eyes. The fear that crosses over my dad’s face has me holding back a laugh. He’s never feared anyone or anything, but I guess Margret is a different story.

  “Don’t laugh at me, young lady. That woman is on a whole different level,” he states in his low voice that used to soothe away any pain I had growing up. He’s my father and I love him, but his voice is not the one I need right now.

  “I didn’t,” I reply, watching him bend down before wrapping me in his arms.

  “I love you, baby girl,” he declares, all the while tightening his hold. This is something he’s said a lot since he found me. It doesn’t bother me, but it’s been a struggle to get him to let me out of his sight. The only time he leaves the hospital is at night, and even then, he has people posted everywhere.

  “I love you too, daddy,” I wheeze out. Finally, he releases his hold, taking a small step back.

  “What did the doctor say?” he asks, looking from me to his vice president. Taz’s unmoving form indicates he’s unaware of anything that’s going on.

  “His lungs are clearing up nicely, but they are going to keep him on the antibiotics for a few more days just in case,” I say, giving him the latest update.

  When they first brought Taz in they ran so many tests no one could see him for hours. Turns out his lungs were filling with mucus from breathing in the mold on the walls. His clavicle bone was broken, so they put a metal plate around it. Apparently, it will make it virtually impossible to break it again. The only trauma done to his head was a severe concussion. He got lucky, all those beatings and there was no real damage. I guess it’s medically proven he has a hard head.

  “You should come home then, Serenity,” my father starts saying. “I understand why you feel obligated to stay here, but you need someone to take care of you too.”

  “STOP IT!” I whisper loudly, “I’m not here out of obligation. When are you going to understand that?”

  “You can’t be with him, Serenity. He’s my VP. I won’t allow it.”

  “It’s not your choice,” I say while getting up. I need to stretch my legs, and right now seems like the perfect time to do so. Walking to the door, I quickly exit, not wanting to have this argument again. Everyone, including my dad, thinks I’m holding out for something that will never happen. They’re wrong, and Taz will prove it when he wakes up.

  Taz

  Survival is a funny thing. what your body is willing to go through, and what your mind can endure just so you can take one more breath, never knowing if it will be your last. You feel yourself start to hold each inhale longer, afraid to exhale, because deep down you know there’s not many left to take. My lungs are burning, and my mouth is dry. How many more breaths do I have before I give into the nagging voice telling me to end it all. Perhaps if I wasn’t a selfish mother fucker I would. I know without me Slasher would have no leverage over Serenity. She would no longer feel obligated to do sexual favors for him, only dragging out the inevitable. I’m going to die here, and there is nothing she can do to change that. Torch killed Dewayne, the Blacktop Sinner’s VP. In return Slasher will kill me.

  “Do you remember when I was graduating high school? My dad had to threaten the school to get enough tickets for all the members. Then to make up for the embarrassment he bought me a dozen red roses that matched my dress,” Serenity mumbles into the darkness. She thinks I’m asleep, probably from my lack of movement, but I’m not. I hear everything she is saying. Picturing the memory of that day in my head.

  She looked stunning in that dres
s. The red fabric clung to her hips and breasts like it was made for her. I have no clue if she knew what she was doing to me and several other men by wearing it. That was the day I stopped looking at her as the club’s princess. She became an itch I needed to scratch, but never could. She showed the world what a beautiful woman she was becoming. Someone I wanted to taste, touch, and make mine, but never would.

  “I picked out that dress so you would notice me. I was so happy when you kept looking in my direction. Then, at my graduation party, I saw you take one of the whores to your room. I left shortly after, faking a headache. As soon as I got home, that dress went into the fire pit.”

  I can picture her with a can of gasoline and a match, standing over Buck’s expensive fire pit, throwing the dress in, all the while whispering promises to end me. Little did she know, I was taking that whore to bed so I wouldn’t drag her there. Would she believe me if I told her that?

  Probably.

  Serenity’s faith in me is amazing. When her and I fight she constantly tells me she can see the real me hiding in the depths. Everyone but her sees me as the man with a short fuse. I can admit to having anger issues. It doesn’t take a lot to make me mad, and even less to make me swing. I would never hit a woman, but sometimes words cut just as deep. By keeping people at a distance, I can’t hurt them.

  “My dad asked me about it because some of the material was left behind. I never told him the real reason. To this day he still thinks…”

  Suddenly her voice drifts off. The footsteps coming down the steps cause her body to stiffen next to mine.

  “Am I interrupting something, Princess?” Slasher asks, his movement stopping a few feet away from where we lay. The sound of his voice replacing Serenity’s causes me to cringe. Grinding my teeth to keep from saying something I decide the best thing to do right now is remain quiet. I need to wait for the right time to make my move.

  “No,” Serenity answers his question. The lack of venom in her voice makes it seem as if they are having a pleasant conversation. She can easily play with him, just like he does with her.

  “I was feeling a bit lonely upstairs, so I’ve come down here. You won’t mind keeping me company, will you?”

  “No, Slasher. I don’t mind.”

  I feel Serenity’s weight leave my side right before the rustle of clothing can be heard. Opening my eyes, I see her preparing to crawl toward him, while he waits at the bottom of the stairs, sitting on the last step. He’s holding his hand out toward Serenity like she’s a dog in training.

  Serenity startles when I reach out and grab her before she can make it out of arm’s reach. She stops her forward movement long enough for me to get to my feet. My arms feel like Jell-O, and my knees are buckling, but this may be the last opportunity I get.

  “Don’t,” Serenity begs in a voice full of desperation.

  “You should listen to her,” Slasher warns, standing up to his full height. With a loud whistle that comes from his lips, two more members start descending the stairs.

  “You’re scared. Why else would you call for back up?” I mock while stepping in front of Serenity. She wraps her hands around my leg, trying to yank me down to the ground.

  “Taz please, please don’t do this,” she begins to sob.

  “If you want her, you have to go through me,” I declare.

  The two obedient mutts Slasher called down are now standing at his side. They think it’s going to be easy. They think I’m already too broken to put up a good fight. Little do they know, I’ve been broken before. Bending down, knowing one of them will take advantage of my new position, I quickly move Serenity out of the way. I don’t want to accidentally hurt her.

  “NOOO!” she hollers just before I feel something hit me on the back of the head. Pressure grows behind my eyelids, but I easily shake away the feeling. Turning around, the fist that was already coming at me lands on the left side of my face, instantly splitting my eyebrow. Thick liquid starts slowly oozing down the side of my face.

  I see Slasher sidestep the commotion, trying to get to Serenity. I kick out my foot, landing it on the closest goon’s chest, forcing him to slam back into his boss. The momentum of the hit brings them both down. Watching them land on the floor, my joy is short-lived as the third man brings his foot to my right side. He’s just kicked me in the liver, making it difficult to catch my breath, or recover.

  “Stop... PLEASE STOP HURTING HIM!!!” Serenity’s pleas echo throughout the room.

  Serenity is begging our enemy. She’s begging another man. The monster inside me starts shaking the cage. He’s pleading to come out and play. With a growl that rips from my raw throat, I charge forward.

  Having a high tolerance for pain can be useful. Shutting down my mind and not allowing my body to feel is what allows my fists to start landing on their intended targets. I hear the crack of one man’s nose getting broken, and see the blood start pooling onto the floor. With him trying to protect his shattered face, I’m able to land body shot after body shot. It’s not long before he goes down, leaving just the two.

  I can see Slasher shoving his man forward, neither one of them quite sure how I’m still standing. They are now the ones in fear of what might happen. Grabbing the sacrificial lamb by his long hair, I bring my knee up, slamming his face down on it hard. Just like I predicted, it’s lights out for that mother fucker.

  “You and me,” I breathe out while looking my last victim in the eye. Slasher takes a step forward. He’s trying to catch me off guard by rushing at me. Spreading my feet wide, I prepare myself for the crushing weight that’s about to hit my chest. I’m more than willing to take this to the ground. Serenity can jump over us and run to safety.

  Then, my entire body tenses up like one giant cramp controlling all my muscles. I feel myself go up on my toes before landing hard on the ground. I have lost the ability to move other than to curl up on the ground. Back pain like I’ve never felt before is beating into my sore body.

  “STOP IT…STOP!” I hear Serenity yell.

  “You know what to do, princess.”

  “Please, Slasher, please stop. I’ll do anything you want,” she begs…

  “NOO...NOOOOOO!” I roar, thankful I can now move my arms. I need to get up. I need to help her. Serenity needs my help. Slasher must have used a stun gun on me. At least that’s what it felt like considering it’s happened to me a time or two. Sitting up too fast, the dots swimming behind my eyelids are turning fuzzy, but I have to ignore it. I have no choice. Serenity needs my help.

  “Oh my God, Taz,” I hear her voice say, it sounds like another one of her pleas to get me to calm down. She’s always trying to protect me.

  Rising to a standing position, and opening my eyes, I zero in on the direction her voice came from. There she is, my guardian angel. She’s struggling with someone, trying to break free of their hold to get to me. Another one of Slasher’s men. Taking a step and nearly falling back down on my ass immediately, I allow the anger toward my weakness to power me forward.

  “Taz, NO!” she hollers right before I land all my body weight on our captor. It’s not hard to do considering I was going to fall anyway. A little maneuvering and I managed to take my target down with me. I feel tiny stings across my arms and left hand, but I have no choice but to ignore them.

  “You’re going to regret ever touching her mother fucker,” I spit out between clinched teeth. I raise my weak hand as fast as my tired body will allow, only to be stopped before I’m able to slam it down on this asshole’s head.

  “Taz, you need to stop. Look around, we’re not in the basement anymore,” I hear Serenity say, her voice breaking through the anger-induced fog clouding my mind. Keeping my body positioned in a way I still have the upper hand, I raise my head.

  I’m met with white walls and white tiles. There is a bathroom door left opened showcasing a maroon and green shower curtain. Concentrating, I take a deep breath pleased when all I smell is sanitizer, no mold. Tilting my head up further, Serenity i
s standing to my left. Her blonde hair is clean, draping across her shoulders. No dirt on her face. No blood around her mouth. Baggie jeans hide the legs I’ve dreamt of wrapping around my neck. A loose-fitting old cotton t-shirt hides the rest of her curves.

  “Bro, I’ve missed you and all, but you really need to get off me. Your hospital gown is open, and I think your starting to get all your blood flow back.”

  Looking down at the man I was about to maim, I come face to face with Saint. He’s the club’s enforcer, someone I’d call a friend. Slow at getting back to my feet, I’m able to take in the destruction around the room. Monitors are beeping, lying on the floor, bed sheets are tossed to the ground, and bags of fluids are left leaking onto the pristine tiles.

  “What’s going on?” I hear an unknown voice shout. Turning toward the open doorway that leads into the main hall of the hospital, I see a young lady with her arms crossed over her chest. She looks stuck-up. Not someone I would ever give the time of day to.

  “He’s awake. You should call his doctor,” Serenity replies with a hint of joy in her tone. She tries to take my hand, intending to help me back to the bed, but I move it out of her reach before she can. She’s done more than enough for me already. Ignoring the hurt that flashes across her face, I sit myself on the edge of the mattress.

  “We need to hook you back up to the monitors, Mr. Smith,” the nurse says, while bending down to grab a bag of clear fluid off the floor, “and put your IV back in.”

  My head is still a little fuzzy, I can feel every one of my limbs aching, but the last thing I want to do is look weak to anyone. Forcing myself to stay in an upward position, I concentrate on my breathing. I’m alive. My body is beaten, my mind is just as fucked up as it has always been, but I survived. Not from anything I did. No, there is only one person responsible for us getting out of that shit-hole.