Taz (Tarnished Souls MC Book 2)

by Dusty Lassetter

  The rocking sensation is lulling me into a false sense of security. This is the one thing Taz can give me while we’re here. When I’m in his arms, I feel invisible to all the monsters around me. I know he will do anything to keep me safe, just like I would him, because that’s what you do for someone you love, and regardless of whether he has said it or not, Taz loves me. I see it every time he looks at me, and hear it every time he calls me angel.

  “What did he do to you while I was gone,” Taz asks with desperation lining his voice, but I don’t want to answer him. It would only cause him to feel more guilt over a situation he can’t control.

  “I missed you,” I whisper instead, the continuous rocking motion causing my heart rate to slow back down. The pain throughout my body starts to lesson as I concentrate on the sound of Taz’s breathing.

  “Go back to sleep, Serenity. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  My body follows his command. All my muscles relax onto his hard body. The sense of protection I get from being in his arms helps loll me to a peaceful sleep.

  I’m woken up by the sunrays sneaking their way through a layer of curtains and window blinds. The tiny particles floating through the light remind me of all the school work I must get done. While I am essentially my father’s prisoner, I still have online classes.

  Stretching out my legs and arms, still buried underneath a mountain of covers, I can’t help but smile. Last night was amazing. My throat isn’t hurting, my eyes aren’t begging me to glue them shut, and my very being is overly thrilled that Slasher wasn’t able to win. I do remember having a nightmare about the time he made me believe Taz was dead, but I didn’t wake up sick to my stomach, sweating from every pore on my body, while crying silent tears. I finally beat him, even if it was in a dream. The knowledge of my victory sends an extra pulse of strength through my blood.

  One quick shower, a simple change of the bandages on my arms, and I am ready to get a cup of coffee. Instead of drinking it in the kitchen with everyone else, I’ll just bring it back to my room and start working on my English paper.

  “…he wanted to keep me his dirty little secret,” I hear an unfamiliar voice say as I walk through the doorway of the kitchen.

  Everyone is standing around the room with smiles on their faces. Irish is sitting at the table next to a pretty blonde wearing cowboy boots and shorts. The Texas themed leather matches her red tank-top, and the denim of her shorts is basically nonexistent. You have to be extremely confident to wear something so skimpy, but she does look amazing in them.

  I stop walking when everyone’s eyes turn to me at once. The new girl’s baby blues fill with curiosity and excitement before she sashays toward me.

  “If my twin wasn’t missing, I would think you were her,” the unfamiliar female says while taking a strand of my hair between her fingers. Her voice is laced with pain as she makes the joke.

  “I’m Allison Conroy, Irish’s wife,” she states in a sweet southern accent.

  From across the room, I hear Irish start choking on whatever he was trying to swallow. My worries for him are soon evaporated when he starts spraying the wooden surface in front of him with the liquid coming from his throat. It would seem he was in the middle of drinking water.

  “You’ll have to forgive him…” she pauses in her statement, waiting for me to introduce myself.

  “Serenity.”

  “What a pretty name. I was expecting you to say Sally or Tiffany. I would have come up with a nickname for you if that were the case. I went to high school with these two hateful girls. Care to guess what their names were? Wait, I did it again. Sometimes I ramble and get off subject. Where were we? Oh, I remember, you’ll have to excuse him, Serenity. It’s been two years since we’ve last seen each other. This was a surprise reunion. Your skin smells really good. What lotion do you use?”

  I’m confused. I heard all the words she said, but my brain is still trying to register their meaning. She has gone from one subject to another, and lost me somewhere along the way. They say people tend to remember the last five words spoken in a sentence, and right now I’m having trouble remembering the final three.

  “I’ve scared you. I’m so sorry. Just nod and smile. That’s what people tend to do when I get going. Isn’t that right big boy?” Allison asks, the last part said in a suggestive way while looking over her shoulder at Irish.

  “I’m taking me wife to get some fresh air,” Irish declares, standing from the table. He searches his pockets frantically before placing a toothpick into his mouth.

  “If you needed something to chew on all you had to do was ask,” Allison jokes while running her hands over Irish’s chest. She’s not at all nervous about his stature, or the fact that he is towering over her like a fire breathing dragon.

  “Let’s go,” Irish growls.

  “Well, if you don’t want to play maybe Taz and I can finish what we started. All the girls at the Honey Hole talk so highly about his talents. I’m in the mood to forget, and the best way to do that is with a big, hard…”

  Irish places his hand over her mouth before she can finish her statement. I wait for the white-hot jealousy her words should cause me, but nothing comes. The only feelings I have toward her story is hurt that Taz has managed to move on so easily, but then I remember we were never anything. You can’t be jealous or hurt over someone that isn’t yours, and he’s made it clear I have no claim to him.

  “You bit me and I’ll make you pay for that,” Irish growls out while leading Allison out of the kitchen.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Saint questions, looking around the room.

  I follow his lead and notice the same looks of confusion on everyone’s face. Allison is like a mini tornado that just blew the walls off this place. Her high energy, southern accent, and loose tongue did something I could never have done. She made the people in this clubhouse speechless.

  “Allison Conroy, that’s what happened,” Rebecca answers.

  “I like her,” Mia replies with a smile on her face. “She’s spunky.”

  While everyone else is debating over the new girl, my dad walks over to me with a small grin tugging at his lips. He must have shaved this morning because the sides of his face are smooth before you get to the beginnings of his beard.

  “You look well rested today, baby girl,” he declares.

  “You look well groomed,” I counter, smiling when he runs his hand down his face. My dad, the man I grew up comparing to superman, is handsome. I can’t for the life of me figure out why he never remarried after my mom died giving birth to me. People always ask me if I miss her, but how do you miss someone you never knew. My dad has done an amazing job of raising me on his own.

  “Not bad for an old dude, huh?” He jokes.

  “Are you trying to impress someone, or trying to get lucky?”

  “Are you trying to make my ears bleed? We are not having this conversation, young lady. Not now, not ever.”

  “Lucky it is,” I say with real laughter in my voice. My dad’s reaction to me mentioning casual sex to him is always the same. He gets all jittery, and refuses to talk about it. Being the amazing daughter I am, I always continue to bring it up.

  “You’re too much like me, you know that,” his statement doesn’t surprise me. He always says I act like him, and I always like to remind him that is why we butt heads a lot.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a meeting we need to get to,” Hammer says before I can respond to my dad. A quick kiss on the forehead, and my only parent is walking out of the kitchen with his trusted club treasurer behind him.

  Coffee, that is what I am on the hunt for. I will need all the caffeine I can get my hands on if I want to get that English paper turned in on time. The counter tops are littered with dirty mugs, plates with food stuck on the surface, and the pots someone used to make this giant breakfast. Guessing by the discarded scraps, I would say eggs and bacon were on the menu.

  Looking up from the mess that is this kitchen, I
see Taz is leaning on the counter closest to the coffee pot. His arms are crossed over his massive chest, long legs crossed at the ankle, with a knowing grin on his face. A white t-shirt, black denim, and biker boots that are bigger than my forearm make him look like the badass biker he is.

  “Excuse me,” I whisper, trying to get by him so I can get the last cup of coffee. I was hopeful there would be enough left for me. While I may love drinking the powerful liquid, I hate making it. The same goes with cooking. Everything just taste better if I don’t have to prepare it. My dad says it’s because I can’t cook to save my life, but I argue it’s pointless to try when fast food is so much better.

  “We need to talk,” Taz says, turning around to grab a mug from the cabinet above his head. I watch as the jerk removes the coffee decanter from the maker and begins pouring the last of the liquid into his cup.

  “No, I need to make more coffee,” I state.

  “So, we’ll talk after. Meet me in your room when you’re done,” he says with a smile on his face. I can see the glint in his green eyes. Taz is trying to push my buttons, agitate me, hoping for a reaction. He often does this when he’s bored. It’s like I’m his toy puppet and he wants to play, but I’ve cut those strings. He needs to find someone else to keep him entertained.

  “I can’t, Rebecca and I are busy this morning,” I say, latching onto her arm. Thank goodness she was on her way over here, or I would have looked stupid trying to think of another way out.

  “We are?” She questions. It takes no time at all for her blue eyes to register the desperation in mine.

  “Yes, we are,” Rebecca says with confidence.

  “Doing what?” Taz questions. cocking an eyebrow in my direction. The smug look on his face, combined with the annoyance of his sipping what was supposed to be my coffee, has me responding too quick.

  “Waxing,” I say because apparently, that’s what one does when they are trying to prove they are busy. The lie isn’t as bad as it could have been, and it caused him to choke on his stolen drink.

  Rebecca turns her head from Taz’s gaze to mine with a look of laughter on her face. She finds this whole situation amusing, and so do I. Why couldn’t I just tell him to screw off? Why didn’t I just grab my coffee, and hightail it back to my room?

  “Surely you have enough time to talk and do that,” Taz states, giving me a look that says he knows I’m lying.

  “No can do,” Rebecca declares, coming to my rescue, “she has legs like a woolly mammoth. There is enough hair on them to make a fur coat.”

  Obviously, she didn’t think her words through because Taz can tell she’s lying just by looking down at my bare legs. I knew I should have worn my pajama pants, but what’s done is done and there is no going back now.

  “It’s clear hair. You can’t see it, just feel it,” she quickly adds after noticing her mistake. Locking arms with mine by the crease in our elbows, she starts leading me away. I can feel Taz’s eyes on me the entire time we are walking out of the kitchen. The knowledge keeps me from stomping because I don’t want him to think he won in anyway, but I really wanted that coffee.

  The scalding hot water beats down on my back, clearing some of the thoughts from my mind. With my head tucked into my chin, I accept the pain the water causes, allowing it to wash away the skin-crawling emotions I carry around. With each tiny movement, the water hits a new spot, and I have to lock my knees to keep from running away.

  I’ve already scrubbed myself three times with more than enough soap. My hair is clean and soft from the expensive products I buy, yet I can still feel the grime his hand left behind after pulling it. I can still smell him on my skin, no matter how long I stay in here.

  “Get out,” I hear Taz command.

  I must have been so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t heard him come in. The steam in the bathroom was so thick I was finding it hard to breathe, but now it’s rushing out the open door trying to escape into the conjoining room.

  “Get out or I’ll pull you out,” Taz reiterates with a hint of irritation in his voice. I can see his shadow on the other side of the shower door.

  Turning off the water before grabbing the towel he has in his hands, I slowly step out of the shower. The tiles under my feet are cold, but not as cold as the look on Taz’s face.

  “You need to get dressed,” he commands, stepping out of the small bathroom. My clothes are waiting for me on the counter by the sink. I had them laid out on the bed, but Taz must have brought them in here when he so rudely barged in.

  Once I’m fully dressed, making sure I took my time doing so, I open the door to walk into my room. The air is much colder out here, and my exposed skin immediately breaks out in goosebumps. I did choose to wear pajama pants this time, and an old t-shirt I got from my dad that goes down to my knees.

  “Look at what you’re doing to yourself,” Taz growls out. I had my arms crossed over my chest hoping he wouldn’t notice the scratches that have not yet healed. They are the same ones that have been there, but it’s hard for them to heal when I scrub the scabs off in the shower. It’s not intentional, it just happens when I’m soaping myself.

  “I’m not talking about your arms, Serenity. Look at the rest of your skin. You have blisters on the side of your neck.”

  I knew my body was getting damaged from the heat and scrubbing, but I hadn’t thought it was anything they could see. I put lotion on after every shower trying to rehydrate my skin, but I guess it wasn’t enough.

  “Just get out, okay. Just go,” I breath out. I’m not in the mood to argue with him right now, and the last thing I need Taz to do is point out all my flaws. Walking to the side of my bed, I grab the bandages and ointment out of the side table, prepared to doctor myself up before getting back to work on my paper.

  “I can’t leave you like this,” Taz says, the sincerity in his voice causing me to feel bad. We have always been friends, even after he figured out I loved him. He never treated me like an annoying brat, which I know I was. Taz has always been kind to me, until Slasher. Maybe he’s trying to make up for the things he said, maybe he feels guilty.

  “Okay,” I announce, trying to lighten the mood with a forced smile. “I promise not to take another shower that will leave blisters. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.”

  “Not good enough,” he replies. I can see the need for him to get closer shining through his eyes, but he wisely stays on the opposite side of the room.

  “I don’t know what more you want, but this isn’t a negotiation, Taz, now please leave!” I shout, hating that he finally got a reaction out of me.

  “Tell me you know what I said was a lie. Convince me you don’t believe you’re a whore and I’ll leave,” he says, finally taking a step toward me.

  Looking down at the ointment and band-aids in my hand, I realize I don’t have much to defend myself with. Not that I think Taz would ever hurt me. I was just hoping to have a weapon to help me get away if he comes any closer. My days of obeying men are over.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  “Because I care about you, Serenity,” he answers, taking another step forward. His eyes are soft, his voice sounds smooth and relaxed, and I get a sense he is trying to play me like Slasher did. He’s manipulating me to believe what he is saying in hopes to keep me docile. He does feel guilty, so he’s trying to erase the guilt by forcing me to say what he wants. That’s it, something in me snaps, and I get a new sense of strength. I’m not his toy. I’m not Slasher’s toy. I’m no one’s toy.

  “Did you care when he was forcing his tongue into my mouth? Did you care when he was ripping my clothes off and talking about how sexy I looked? How about when he forced me on my knees, and shoved his cock down my throat? Did you care then?” I holler out.

  He takes three more steps forward, now within reach of me, and stops. The look on his face says my words hurt, but it’s not enough. I want him to feel what he made me feel. I want Taz to break apart like he made me do.


  “I saved your life, you bastard. I took hit after hit of that leather-belt to make sure you survived, and for what? For you to throw it in my face. Your words didn’t hurt me, LUCAS. The fact that you believed them did. I may have been his whore, but I did it for you.”

  When he reaches for me my anger won’t allow me to move. I’m not running anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” Taz whispers, pulling me into his arms.

  “No, you’re not. You feel bad for telling the truth, but everything I did was for you. I was your whore in there, not his.” I don’t mean what I say. I know Taz didn’t force me to do what I did, but my anger won’t allow me to take it back. I want him to feel what it’s like to have someone you care about hurt you.

  “I fucked up, Serenity,” he whispers, “but I’m going to fix it.”

  I don’t bother telling him he can’t fix what he broke. I just let him continue to hold me. For once my body doesn’t relax against his. There is no warmth seeping into my soul from his touch, and that is enough to make me cry. The tears I’ve refused to shed start pouring out onto my cheeks. Taz picks me up, carrying me to the bed, and sits with his back against the headboard. He begins to rock me from side-to-side, until sleep finally stops the sobs.

  Serenity

  One week has gone by since I said those awful things to Taz. Seven days full of guilt over my harsh words, and seven nights of him climbing into my bed every night. We continue to fall asleep like we did the first night, a wall of pillows separating our bodies, yet I always wake up curled into him. His big arms hold me tight like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

  We don’t talk about our past, mainly because we don’t talk much, but when we do it’s always an off-the-wall subject, like One Tree Hill or motorcycle parts. You can guess who brings up which. I figure it’s our way of agreeing to a peace treaty. I don’t want to fight with Taz, and I believe he feels the same way.

  “I’m leaving town for a few days,” Taz says while climbing onto the bed, giving my pillow-wall a look of annoyance. The light shining in from the bathroom illuminates all his amazing features. His hair is growing longer on the sides, and the stubble on his cheeks is growing into a small beard, but his eyes are the same-amazing green globes staring right through me.