by Harley Stone
She was worried about me. I wasn’t used to being the recipient of that sort of compassion. I held up her disassembled cell phone. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing. Trust me, this is the safest place in the city you can be right now.”
She eyed me warily. “Do you promise to tell me the second that changes?”
It was an easy enough promise to make since I had no intention of endangering my sanctuary. “Yeah. I give you my word.” And I was done with this conversation. “Now, are you hungry? Thirsty?” I needed to stitch up the cut on her leg, but I was procrastinating.
“Yes and yes. Want me to order something?”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re just trying to get my address aren’t you?”
She grinned. “Damn, I thought I was being sneaky.”
“Subtle as an avalanche. I’ll go whip us up some peanut butter and jelly french toast and chocolate milk.”
“Hm. Warm peanut butter and jelly. I don’t know whether to be intrigued or disgusted.”
“I say walk on the wild side. You know, for a suicidal cop who’s ready to run into danger to rescue a bunch of girls, you’re not very adventurous.”
She laughed, and the sound was musical, beautiful, pure.
“You have a nice laugh,” I said.
Her eyebrows shot up and her face grew somber. “Uh… thanks.”
Confused, I asked, “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I just… I can’t remember the last time someone made me laugh.”
I gave her knee a gentle squeeze and stood. “That makes two of us. I’ll be back with food in a few minutes.” On my way out, I dropped her disassembled cell phone in the drawer with various phones and locked it up.
Sasha watched me, seeming both curious and concerned. “I feel like we have an issue with trust.”
“There has to be trust to be an issue,” I replied. “I don’t know you. And what I do know about you suggests that you would do all manner of stupid shit to save those girls. I intend to keep that option out of your hands for as long as I can.” I wasn’t usually this honest with people, but the respect I felt for her made me want to give it to her straight. As far as I could tell, she’d been honest with me.
“Fair enough,” she replied, making herself comfortable on the sofa.
As I headed upstairs, I searched for YouTube videos on suturing wounds. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was positive I wanted nothing to do with stitching up anyone. And I never wanted to see another needle for as long as I lived.
We needed help.
My mind wandered back to two years ago when Elaine stood on my doorstep with the baby carrier at her feet, unknowingly about to sacrifice her life for her career. Elaine’s motives had never been as pure as Sasha’s. Elaine didn’t join the CIA to help people or to turn the tide of the department. She saw an environment she knew she could thrive and advance in, so she signed on. And then she made a career of manipulating others into doing the same. She lost her life chasing power and recognition.
Sasha didn’t care about her career or her life. She was willing to give both up to save a bunch of girls. I thought she was crazy, but I had to admire her for it. Regardless, she couldn’t do it alone. She needed other people who were crazy enough to risk their necks to help the innocent and take down the bad guys.
She needed the Dead Presidents.
I had to make the call.
Resigned, I tugged my phone out of my pocket and dialed Havoc’s number. It was close to midnight, and I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t pick up, but I had no such luck.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Tap. I’m glad you called, brother.”
I wasn’t nearly as happy about it. “Hey. Do you know how to stitch up a wound?”
“You hurt?”
“No, not me.”
He let out a breath, no doubt putting two and two together and figuring out that the “package” I’d picked up was actually a person. “Yeah. It won’t be pretty, but I can do it. I learned most basic medical procedures during my time in Special Forces.”
“Great.” I started pulling out ingredients and fired up the stove top. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into meeting me somewhere and letting me blindfold you and bring you to my house?”
He chuckled. “Not a chance in hell.”
That’s what I figured. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. You’ve been with us for a little over a year now, Tap. You’ve seen how we work—what we’re about—when are you gonna trust us?”
I cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl and pulled a whisk out of the drawer. “It’s not about trust.”
“Bullshit.”
First Link, then Havoc. I was over people who didn’t know the full story telling me what to do. “You don’t know my life, what I’ve done, what I have to protect.”
“Kind of the point. But it is about trust. You got some demons in your past and you’re worried they might catch up to you. If you trusted us, you’d bring that shit to the club so we can prepare to deal with it together. We were trained to handle the enemy, and if we can’t even be trusted to protect our own, we might as well park our bikes, turn in our cuts, and swallow a bullet, because the club has no goddamn purpose anymore.”
His words formed a lump in my throat. Purpose was important to a veteran. No, it was more than that. Purpose was what kept us alive, what kept us from becoming one of the twenty-two veterans who committed suicide every day. I’d found my purpose in Hailey. The club found its purpose in helping veterans and the community. This shit was important for our survival.
“Look, man, I’m trying.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “Well, try harder. Give me your address.”
“Over the phone? No.” Giving my location over the line would be stupid. Careless. I’d never understand how people could just put their information out there like that.
“You better figure this shit out if you want my help.”
I had another option. Being only slightly less paranoid than me, Morse had worked with me to develop a code for situations like this. Sending him my address would safeguard the information against threats located outside the club, but he wouldn’t keep it from Link. Hell, the second I sent my address to Morse, he’d probably jump online and troll my house. The bastard could break into my security system and hijack my cameras, and he’d do it for fun, just because he could. I had to reinforce my shit to avoid a full-on breach.
But it was the only option I had.
Sasha needed help, and I wouldn’t let her down. “Are you still at the fire station?”
“Sure am.”
“What about Morse?”
“He’s here. He’s working on a project for Link.”
Convenient. All the stars seemed to be lining up, bound and determined to shine enough light to expose me. Thinking I could do it without the club, I tugged the phone away and glanced at the suturing video again. My gorge rose, tickling the back of my throat. Nope. Still couldn’t do it. Putting the phone back to my ear, I said, “Hang tight. I’ll send it to Morse, and he’ll decode it.”
I hung up and fired my coded address to Morse. Adding a thinly veiled threat, I asked the guru to give the information to Havoc, and Havoc alone, but that didn’t mean shit. There was a good chance the whole damn club would show up on my doorstep any moment. I had to be ready.
I finished cooking the sandwiches, poured two glasses of chocolate milk, and headed back downstairs to prepare.
Sasha
“WHAT THE FUCK is on your face?” Havoc asked, his eyes shining with humor as he studied Tap. I only knew that the newcomer was Havoc, because he fit Tap’s description perfectly: a giant black man with a shaved head and a full beard. He’d forgotten to mention that Havoc was also super attractive, or that he was a biker. I stared at his cut trying to comprehend why Tap would have invited a biker over. “Is that… Is that makeup?”
“It’s called a disguise, jackass,” Tap replied.
“A disguise?
” Havoc snorted. “Jules, check out Tap’s makeup job. Looks like he mastered that contouring shit they show in those videos you watch.”
As I wondered about Tap’s “disguise” a gorgeous redhead wearing skinny jeans, boots, and a pale purple blouse under a cut of her own stepped into the room. She looked Tap over and hummed in agreement. “Impressive. Did you do this yourself?”
“Yes.”
Julia nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “You’ll have to show me your supplies. I’m curious about what you used as a base around your jawline.”
“Later. Right now, I need your help with something else.” He stepped to the side and I found myself staring into the faces of Havoc and the redhead he’d called Jules. “Uh… Sasha? What’s wrong?” Tap asked.
I was probably gaping. Fixing my face, I replied, “You didn’t tell me they were bikers.”
“Oh, honey, I’m probably the furthest thing from a biker there is,” the redhead replied.
“Havoc’s with the Dead Presidents Motorcycle Club,” Tap replied. “They’re not an outlaw club like the Serpents. They’re all former military and they do good stuff like volunteering at schools and… uh... They’re the ones who took down Mayor Kinlan.”
“I keep up with the news, and I’m familiar with who the Dead Presidents are,” I replied. The club was almost as well-known around Seattle as the Serpents, only for opposite reasons. Most of the officers I worked with had no love for the Dead Presidents, but nobody could deny the good that the club had done, even if their methods bordered on vigilantism. “Thank you for your service, Havoc. And for all you do with the club.”
I couldn’t tell if he heard me, because Havoc was focused on Tap. “Care to explain why you’re making it sound like you’re not a part of the club, brother?” Turning his gaze to me, Havoc added, “Thank you. Tap’s a member, too.”
Which meant Tap was also a veteran. Interesting. “His life is like the start of a joke. A biker, a veteran, and a stripper walk into a bar… Only it’s all Tap.”
Tap looked like he’d just swallowed a fly.
Figuring I’d said something I probably shouldn’t have, I snapped my mouth shut.
“A stripper?” Havoc asked, perking right up.
I felt like shit. Tap had helped me. He’d cleaned me up and fed me and was trying to keep me alive, and I’d just rolled over on him and given up one of his secrets. Desperate to save face, I launched into an explanation. “Yeah, a paint stripper. That’s what Tap does for a living. In fact, that’s what he was doing at Buzz’s house. Stripping the paint right off the walls. He’s good at it, too. You couldn’t even tell those walls had been painted by the time he got through with them.”
“In the middle of the night?” Havoc asked.
“Absolutely. That’s the best time to do it since it doesn’t interfere with anything. Don’t have to worry about anyone getting in the way.” I was rambling now, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
Tap collapsed on the sofa beside me, elbows on knees, head in hands. “Don’t. There’s no redeeming this. Just… let it happen.”
Havoc’s eyes were alight with humor. “A stripper? Damn, I didn’t know Buzz swung that way.”
Tap massaged his temples. “It wasn’t for Buzz. It was a bachelorette party for his daughter.”
Havoc didn’t laugh out loud, but he didn’t have to. His face said everything.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Tap.
He shrugged. “It was bound to come out sooner or later. Bunch of goddamn busybodies. I swear none of ’em are happy unless their nose is buried in someone else’s shit.”
The humor disappeared from Havoc’s eyes. “You don’t get it, brother. We keep giving you time, hoping you will, but you still don’t.”
“Get what?” he asked.
“The Dead Presidents is more than a club; it’s a brotherhood. Yeah, we flick each other shit, but we also have each other’s backs. If I couldn’t have made it tonight, Wasp would have. The motherfucker probably would have given himself a hernia from laughing when he found out about your moonlighting gig, but he’d put his life on the line for you in a heartbeat. As would any of us. That’s what being part of a brotherhood means. We watch out for one another. But it’s near impossible to protect someone with so many goddamn secrets he refuses to even let us know what he does for work or where he lives.”
“Yeah, well I appreciate your concern, but some secrets are necessary. I do everything that’s asked of me around the club, so I don’t see why it’s anyone’s business what I do outside of it. I pay my dues just like everyone else.”
“We’re not a fuckin’ charity case. Link doesn’t bring in members so we can take from them. It’s a two-way street.” Havoc swiped a hand across the back of his neck and looked at me. “Sorry. I uh… I get carried away. I’m Havoc and this is my wife, Julia. I take it you’re the one who needs to be stitched up?”
I tried to stand to greet them, but my thigh burned.
“Whoa,” Tap said, holding his arm in front of me. “Relax. No need for that.”
“I… I can do it.” I needed to stand, needed to prove to myself I could still do it and that my leg wasn’t completely fucked. “I just need…”
“A blood transfusion?” Tap supplied helpfully. “A week of sleep? More ibuprofen? What?”
I snorted. “A minute. I just need a minute to regain my strength. It’s been kind of a rough night.”
“Looks like it,” Julia replied. “Just sit there and let us help you. Where’s the wound?”
“I’m Sasha. It’s nice to meet you both.” I tugged up the bottom of my borrowed shorts to reveal the gash across my leg. It wasn’t actively bleeding, but the red smudge on the shorts told me it hadn’t exactly stopped, either. “Here’s this one, but how are you with out-of-socket shoulders?”
Havoc looked down at my leg and swore. “The Serpents did this to you?”
There was no need to go into the full story, so I nodded.
“Did you kill him?” Julia asked as her gaze drifted over the rest of my wounds.
Surprised by the bluntness of her question, I took a beat. “It wasn’t a ‘him.’ I got jumped by a bunch of women.”
“Hm. Last time a bunch of women turned on me, a man was behind it. I don’t know who did this to you, but he should be stripped naked and have his cock lathered in peanut butter before he gets tossed into a room of starving, rabid rats.”
I liked Julia immediately. She was intuitive and slightly vicious, but she’d hit the nail on the head. Impressed, I replied, “I’d rather get his ass locked up for life, but things don’t always work out the way we want them to.”
Julia smiled, catching my drift. Her gaze locked with mine. “I get it. But a word of advice, the worst ones are like cockroaches and one bullet’s never enough. When you finally get the chance to put an end to this douchebag, don’t forget to double-tap. It’ll save a lot of time and stress.”
Tap shook his head again. “Sasha, meet Havoc and Julia. They’re almost as insane as you are.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is practical,” Julia replied. “We see problems, and we handle them. Now, shoo. Both of you. I need a minute alone with the patient before Havoc gets started.”
“Where are we supposed to go?” Tap asked.
Julia waved him off. “I don’t care. It’s your house.”
Tap stared her down. “Give me your phone first.”
Havoc darkened and seemed to grow as he stepped between Tap and Julia. “You better fix your tone and check yourself, brother. You’re talkin’ to my wife, and she deserves more respect than that. What the hell do you need her phone for?”
“I don’t want her making any calls from this room.”
“Okay.” Havoc faced Julia. “Please don’t make any calls from this room.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied.
“Problem solved.” Havoc shrugged. “Behold the power of communication.”
“B
ut…” Tap’s gaze bounced from Havoc to Julia. “What if she forgets and makes a call accidentally?”
“You do realize I’m standing right here?” Julia asked. “And that I’m not stupid?”
“Yes. I just—”
“It’s called trust,” Havoc said, grabbing Tap by the shoulder and turning him toward the door. “I know it’s a foreign concept, but I trust my woman, and that’s gonna have to be enough for you.”
Tap looked like he wanted to argue, but the darkness in Havoc’s expression snapped his jaw closed.
Once the guys were gone, Julia sat beside me on the sofa. “Please tell me why I’m meeting you in Tap’s basement, and not in a hospital. My husband is a capable man, but he’s not a doctor and that’s what you need.”
“I know, but it’s complicated.” I liked Julia, but I didn’t know her. Not enough to share all the details I’d given to Tap. “A hospital isn’t a safe option for me right now.”
She nodded, seeming to accept my explanation. “Do you need a morning after pill? A rape kit? What can I help you with?”
Her concern was touching, but also a little overwhelming, reminding me how much control I’d lost of my situation. My mind was fucked up, but thankfully my body would heal. “No. Nothing. He always used a condom.”
“Good,” Julia replied. “It’s just us in here now, so you don’t have to be strong. Tell me, how are you really doing?”
Up until that moment, I would have said fine. But Julia’s intuition and compassion were too much. She was watching me, expecting me to be honest with her, and I couldn’t keep up the lies I’d been feeding myself for the past week.
I’d been drugged.
I’d been raped.
I’d lost control.
I wasn’t fine.
I was a victim.
One week of mind games from that asshole, and I’d done everything he wanted me to. I’d put up with all of his shit and he couldn’t even bother to warn me that I was about to get jumped into the Serpents? No, it was worse than that. He’d poked the bear before he’d handed me over, making sure my ass kicking was fueled by anger and hate.
Did he want her to kill me?