Her leg snaked over his shoulder then, and he couldn’t help but run a hand up it. She put her foot on the chair between his legs and with one swift movement, she was standing in front of him. She sat, sliding her feet up to his shoulders, leaning back again and facing the crowd upside down, she lowered the straps of her stringy getup.
Jager knew she wasn’t a stripper and she wouldn’t flash everyone, but part of him grew worried for Phil, if he was in the crowd. Just as the straps began to slip away, a screen arose from the floor. Completely see through, but revealing only their silhouette.
Tatum sat up and looked at Jager. They were both so drunk that he’d hoped and prayed he’d remember this in the morning. She smiled at him then, her most dazzling, sexy smile. Jager smiled back seductively and licked his lips. She leaned into him as if she was going to kiss him, and the crowd went nuts. “Wanna give me a hand with the back of this?” she whispered into his ear and he didn’t hesitate. He reached behind and unhooked the bra. He grabbed it out from her and threw it to the side. They didn’t think the crowd could be any louder but at that point it was nearly deafening.
She pressed herself back up against him and he buried his face in her neck, wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her tighter to him. It took every ounce of will power in him not to kiss her neck, her lips, to grind his hips into her. She ran her fingers up the nape of his neck and into his hair and he felt her breathe deeply too.
The stage went dark then and he noticed the music was over. Reluctantly Tatum pushed back from Jager. She covered her breasts with her arm and looked into his eyes. “Let’s not be weird tomorrow hey?” she asked, smiling at him, but looking unsure. He could only smile back.
“Happy Birthday, Jager,” She said shyly and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before stepping off and walking behind the stage.
The minute the music stopped, Tatum sobered up. What was she doing? Things would be so awkward between them now and she really didn’t want that to happen. She liked Jager. She didn’t want him to think she was trashy like the groupies. She walked around back and quickly put her clothes back on. She’d hoped that Phil stayed in the room with the girls the whole time and didn’t have to be witness to what just went down on stage.
When she returned to the party she was relieved to see that Phil was still gone. Gary spotted her first and yelled out from the booth that he and a few of the guys were sitting in, “There she is…!” in his deepest, loudest voice. Everyone turned to look, including Jager who was sitting with his back to her. He smiled at her and she felt the awkwardness slip away, just a bit. He moved his head, indicating for her to come over by him. She did so, and he got out of the booth to let her slide in. When he slid back in next to her, he put his arm over her shoulder and that was it.
They all laughed and drank some more. Jager was attentive to her but she didn’t feel as if anything had changed, besides them becoming better friends, and for that, she was grateful.
After two weeks, the men started to make plans to return home. Jager became one of the best friends that Tatum had ever had. The flirtations were great but minimal. They loved being in each other’s company, but knew that a relationship was out of the question. Phil had told Jager that he didn’t like the thought of them together like that. Jager assured him that nothing would happen. He loved Tatum. He wanted her to stay safe and he knew that being in a relationship like that, with him, wasn’t good for anyone. Loving him was dangerous, and the thought of something happening to her like it did to April, kept him up at night. Aside from himself, he had his kids to worry about. He didn’t want them to have to go through that again. Not to mention the distance.
Three days before the guys planned on returning back to San Francisco, things changed. Tatum had left that morning after receiving a questionable text from one of her dancers. She didn’t say much to her father before calling Rick and heading out, just what the text said and that she shouldn’t be long. Jager had still been in bed with Matthew and Connor, and heard through Phil and Gary what had happened. The morning turned into afternoon, afternoon into evening, with no sign of Tatum or her guys. Jager grew worried, just as much as Phil. They paced the house. Called her cell numerous times only to go directly to voice mail.
Around 9 pm Rick walked in through the main doors, to find the guys sitting around waiting anxiously. Upon seeing his appearance, Phil and Jager stood abruptly and began questioning him. He was covered in soot and blood. His shirt was ripped and there was a gash across his forehead that extended to his ear. He didn’t say what happened; just that Tatum had gone in through the basement doors to avoid the kids seeing her. Jager knew better. Tatum would have known that the boys were asleep by now. Rick was in no mood to say anything and instead just walked past them all to get a shower.
As soon as he left, Phil and Jager rushed downstairs toward the bathroom that Tatum used most. They heard the shower start up. Jager beat on the door while Phil stood back and leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. When he got no answer he beat harder, unnecessarily. “Open the door, Tatum,” he said loudly.
She knew he’d punch his way in if she didn’t answer. Slowly she unlocked it. Jager opened and his heart constricted when he saw her. Her face was filthy, her lip busted, and her clothes bloody. Phil nearly bowled Jager over in an effort to get to her. Jager held him back, knowing his tendency to overwhelm people he loved with worry.
Tatum hung her head and shook it.
The men just stood there for a minute or so staring at her until she raised her eyes to them.
“Are you Ok?” Jager asked. He saw her visibly swallow. She shook her head and that was all he needed. He walked toward her and she put her face on his chest while he wrapped his arms around her.
Phil came to stand next to them and he rubbed his daughters back gently. “What happened lovey?” he asked as Jager smoothed her hair.
Tatum took a deep breath, “they blew up the club. Killed one of my girls… and Marcus.”
Jagers hand froze in her hair. “What, who?” he said venomously.
Phil stopped too and began pacing the hallways.
She just shook her head, lifting it from Jager.
“Whose blood is this?” he asked her, more softly now, pulling at her shirt.
She looked at him then. “Not mine.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After getting a shower and changing into some sweats and one of the guys shirts that she found folded on top of the dryer, Tatum headed to the upstairs bathroom in an attempt to find some Advil for her headache, and something to put on her lip. Her ribs were in pretty rough shape. She expected to see Phil and Jager but was surprised when she rounded the corner and found the whole gang waiting quietly for her.
When they saw her they all stood up. Phil came first to wrap her in his arms. He hugged her and kissed her temple, “I’m sorry Lovey. We’ll get the bastards who did this.” The procession followed. Bobo and Gary even hugged her like normal people, without the sexual advances and longer-than-necessary squeezes. Jager was last, and his hug felt the best. When it was all said and done, and Tatum was standing in the parking lot of her club, watching it burn, Jagers arms were the only place she wanted to be. She mentally kicked herself for feeling that way. He held her a few beats longer than everyone else had. The thought of something bad happening to her had him sick to his stomach. She sat down then and told them everything that had happened.
Mercedes, her dancer, sent her a text that morning that something weird was happening at the club. When she arrived, Mercedes was nowhere to be found. No one was. The club was empty. Tatum and Rick looked all throughout the club and received another text from Mercedes’ phone that they were in the basement. Tatum suspected then that it was a trap. She drew her gun and Rick did the same. Making their way down the stairs, they saw a streak of blood in the dimly lit basement, a stark contrast on the old white-tiled floors. Before they knew what was happening, someone shut the door above them and bolted it
. Within seconds a loud bang erupted from upstairs somewhere.
Tatum and Rick ran around to the emergency exit only to find that it was bolted as well. Tatum knew that in one of the other rooms, where she had shelves full of boxes, was a window that couldn’t be seen unless someone known about it. They ran to that room, smoke now bellowing from the ceiling. Sounds of things crashing and incinerating above them. In the hallway before the storage room, laid Mercedes. A bullet in her head. Tatum shook her, pointlessly. More frustrated than angry. Mercedes was one of her most profitable girls. Rick pulled out his cell phone and called Marcus, telling him to get down there and help them.
Just as they opened the door to the room, they heard voices. Tatum told Rick to go and try to get to the window. There were a lot of boxes to remove. She followed the sound of men talking. She figured after a minute that there were three of them. Drawing her gun, she rounded the corner only to be struck in the mouth by a tall dark-skinned man. The expression on his face said that he wasn’t expecting to see her there and was panicking with the knowledge that he was trapped like she was. He pulled a gun from the back of his pants but not before Tatum shot him in the arm. The gun clattered to the floor just before the man did.
“Who are you?” she demanded from him calmly, as he writhed in pain, clutching his bleeding arm. “Who the fuck sent you?”
Before he could speak, two more men came around the corner and started shooting at her. She put a bullet in the guy on the floor, not bothering to look back to see where, as she ran away from her pursuers. Rick heard the commotion then and came to help her. He shot at the men and got one of them, more so stunning him than anything. Tatum finished him as he examined the graze on his shoulder. The third man then got away. Realizing he was out numbered, he ran back and found a room to hide in. Rick went in first and was struck on the head, knocking him unconscious. The room was pitch black. Tatum licked her lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Knowing that her club was, at this point, beyond saving, she got even more pissed off.
The heat was stifling. Somewhere in the distance she heard the ceiling collapsing and it was getting difficult to breath. She bent down and grabbed Rick by the arm, dragging him away from the door frame. She slapped him a few times to get him to wake up. He came around a few seconds later, albeit very groggy. His forehead was busted open and blood began running into his eyes. She had to help him up, wrapping his arm over her shoulder. She’d let the fire take care of the other guy. They had to get out right then or else. They made their way back to the room and she was glad to see that Rick had the boxes clear and the window free. She put a full round into it, shattering the glass. Helping Rick up first, he climbed out into the rocky parking lot behind the club. She took one last look behind her and climbed up and out herself.
Just as her feet hit the gravel, Rick put his hand over her mouth. She looked around, trying to see what she was supposed to keep quiet for. When nothing appeared, she listened hard as she refilled her gun. She heard grunting and the sound of knuckles on flesh. Unable to run, her lungs being seized by the smoke, she and Rick walked clumsily toward the sound, just in time to see another man put his blade into Marcus’ neck. She screamed and ran towards them, launching herself at the man. He fended her off by punching her in the ribs. She fell back, sliding on the rocks, feeling them tear up her back. She knew something had been broken.
As he walked toward her, she looked at Rick who was pulling Marcus’ body away from the burning building. With a renewed sense of purpose, she rose in time to dodge a kick to her stomach from the man. He was older, looking more of the wall-street type than that of a murderer. His white hair receded to somewhere around the crown of his head and his blue business suit screamed ‘Sears.’ She was glad to see that Marcus had gotten a couple good smacks on him, his eyebrow was split.
Feeling her rage spread as the roof of her club completely caved in, she charged him. He wasn’t expecting it and she nailed him in the chest. He stumbled backward and Tatum kicked his ribs as hard as she could. She felt them give underneath her, her foot sinking more deeply into his flesh. He attempted to avert her last blow by grabbing her ankle. She tripped and fell on top of him. He managed to switch positions and get on top of her, but she was too quick and shot the butt of her hand up into his nose. Immediately, blood poured out and down over her, his hands flying to his face. With this momentary distraction she pulled her gun out from the waist of her pants and emptied the clip into the side of his head.
Before the fire truck and police showed up, Tatum and Rick left. They headed to the veterinary clinic that Tatums friend worked at. He was their go to medical professional whenever things got messy. He was quiet and discreet and accepted cash. He deemed that Tatum did in fact have a broken rib and Rick was concussed.
“Do you have any idea who it was?” Gary asked Tatum when she’d finished telling them what had happened. She shook her head. She had lots of enemies. How could she not given her profession? “The only thing I can think of is that someone knows about…Phil. And me. Maybe they are making a play for my businesses?” When she thought about it, her plan was to be discreet about her paternity. She and Phil had been anything but. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t heard from Donna in sometime. She voiced her concerns to her father. Phil volunteered to head up to her cottage and check on her.
The men dispersed then, making their own plans for revenge. Tatum, although feeling sore and battered, also felt a wave of gratitude for her new found family. She’d handled things herself for so long. It was nice to know that she had a group of insane hitmen on her side now.
Jager stuck around for a while. Just sitting and watching TV with her. She could sense his mind was far away. He was distracted and she didn’t know if it was because he was worried about her or if he was thinking that he wished he’d kept his distance. All he needed was another woman to worry about.
“I’m starving,” she said to him, breaking him from his daze, “let’s order a pizza or something.” Jager nodded and pulled out his cell phone, not saying anything. He looked up a number to the nearest delivery place and asked her what she wanted.
When the pizza arrived, he answered the door, paid and brought it before her on the coffee table. He grabbed a bottle of beer and laid that in front of her as well. She stared at him, concern written all over her face. She didn’t want to lose him because of this. The thought of it had a lump building in her throat and her heart beating frantically.
“I’m going to go to bed. Do you want anything else? Are you ok to get to bed by yourself?” he asked her with hard eyes, completely void of emotion just as he had been when he arrived at her place just over two weeks ago.
She stared at him, confused. “Jager...” she said, but he continued to look at her as if she were nobody. “What’s the matter?” she asked finally.
He shook his head, “I’m fine.” He leaned in then and kissed her on top of the head.
She felt it then. He cared. His lips lingered there for a moment. His fingers gripped the throw on the back of the couch as if it pained him to pull away.
But when he did, he stood and still had that same expression. “Good night. Call me if you need anything,” and then turned to walk away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It turned out that going to her own bed was a bit more of a task than she had planned. Trying to stand up off the couch felt as if something would internally puncture her. She didn’t scream, because that would have hurt too. Instead, she inhaled quickly, and when that also proved to hurt more than she could stand, she gave up, choosing to sleep on the couch.
Phil and Jager entered the living room at the same time the next morning. They found Tatum balled up on the couch looking worse for wear. Her eyes were red and they knew she couldn’t have slept very comfortably the previous night. When Jager realized that she’d slept on the couch, he felt terrible. What kind of an asshole leaves a girl who’d just nearly lost her life to fend for herself? He sat on the foot of the couch an
d she turned to look at him slowly. Her eyes scanned him and she closed them tightly. She was pale and in pain he realized, and went to get her some pills. After digging through the bathroom cabinets, he found some pain killers and she took them, gratefully.
“Did you sleep last night?” he asked her and she shook her head.
“Not much,” she said through gritted teeth.
Jager hung his head in shame and put his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He ran his fingers through his hair and turned to look at her again. “I’m sorry Tate. I shouldn’t have left you here like this last night… I’m a prick.”
She smiled then, as best as she could.
Phil looked venomously at Jager.
“Let’s get you to bed hey?” he said to his daughter and she nodded.
“I just need help standing up. I can walk,” she said.
Jager stood abruptly, before Phil could get to her, determined to make up for his mistake. He slid his hand underneath her and accidently went under her shirt, feeling the scratches on her bare back. Slowly he lifted her to her feet. “Thanks,” she said smiling at him, kissing her father on the cheek before heading in the direction of her room. Jager followed and Phil stayed behind, turning on the kettle. He knew it would be a long morning and he had a few things he wanted to discuss with his friend.
Tatum hadn’t expected Jager to help her to her room but when it came time to climb the stairs, she was glad she had him to support her. He wrapped his arm under her and she leaned into him. When she finally reached her bed, he closed the door behind him and lifted her onto the mattress. He pulled the blanket up around her gently. “I’m so sorry. I was worried and distracted last night.” He rubbed his forehead and then smoothed his beard with one hand, before running his fingers through his hair. Even in pain, Tatum couldn’t help but register how insanely handsome he was.
Altering Authority Page 6
