Altering Authority

by Dooley, Ashley

  “Shut up” she said and poked him with her elbow.

  “Did the accountant call? He wants to discuss retirement!” he finished with a loud and enthusiastic flourish.

  Tatum buckled over, her hands holding her stomach and she cracked up hopelessly at him. Those sentences, from his mouth, seemed unnatural. Gods didn’t worry about retirement and coupons.

  He watched her then, without her knowing, as she watched the boys. She loved them. He could see it in her eyes that she was debating if this life was all that bad; if grocery shopping, peewee practice and 401K’s were really the lowest of the lows.

  After an hour or so, he left again to go check on the club. When Tatum and the boys got home, Jeannie dropped over to help tidy away the house as per her usual routine. This time spending a little more time in his bedroom. Tatum wondered idly if she were looking for signs of their night last night.

  When Connor went for his nap, Tatum helped out with the cleaning. Jeannie came to the kitchen and began drying the dishes Tatum was washing. They both did so silently for a while before Jeannie spoke.

  “After April passed, he was in rough shape. Really rough shape.”

  Tatum knew she was talking about her son.

  “He did more drugs than he sold I think,” she laughed, but with concern. “More than one morning I came over to find him on the boy’s bedroom floor with a bag and a bottle next to him. Barf all over the floor.” Tatum turned to look at her now. “The boys stayed with me and May during that time,” she said answering Tatum’s unasked question. “Then he kind of sobered up. Became really attentive to the boys. He got…really quiet,” she said, not being able to find the right words. “That scared me more than the drugs. When he told me he was taking the boys and going east with the guys I had a nervous breakdown. I didn’t think he’d come back.”

  Tatum didn’t know where all of this was coming from.

  Jeannie went quiet again, drying the dishes with a faraway look in her eyes. When they were all done and put away she turned to Tatum, grabbing her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said, “for bringing my son back. He’s happier now than he was before she died.”

  Tatum looked at her with a loss for words. “We’re really not… together…” she started to say but Jeannie cut her off by shaking her head.

  “I know, I know. He has no reason to deny it or to lie about it… Aside from Phil I guess. If you say you’re not together I believe you. You’re still the reason that he is happy now.”

  Tatum still didn’t know what to say.

  “I always wished April was more like you,” Jeannie began, letting go of Tatums shoulders and steering her towards the front door. She pulled out her package of cigarettes and lit one up. “I see myself in you,” she said and Tatum did her best not to cringe. “You’re tough. You understand the guys and the life. April didn’t. She was… softer.”

  Tatum had already gathered that.

  “I hope you stick around,” Jeannie said grabbing her purse off the back of the chair and heading out to kiss Matthew before leaving, only giving Tatum a flick of her hand on the way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tatum knew that night the guys were planning something. Although they didn’t tell her, it hung in the air, like a cloud filled with tension and excitement. She wasn’t stupid. She’d been in their position before. They wanted to protect her. Knowing what she was capable of didn’t take away from the fact that she was a woman and a daughter of one of their brothers. Jager didn’t say it out loud, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of her, being in a room full of men with weapons in their hands. No one wanted to risk it.

  They had figured out who the gang was that blew up Tatum’s club, a nationwide group who specialized in arms. Bill had apparently banned one of their members for brutality against one of his girls. They were looking for any reason to retaliate against him. Tatum was Bill’s successor and these guys had a hard time, apparently, with the word no. Their boss, the ‘head’ lived in California and Jager had convinced them that they wanted to buy guns from them. The drop was later that night. He decided that only five of them would go, while five hung back. They would ambush the gang and take them all out. He knew that the head, Norman, often visited their club. Placed some hefty bets on sports and at the blackjack table. Likely, if word got out that it was Jager and his guys who did this, his club would take a hit. They’d lose out on the money that Norman dropped on them, as well as any of the other gangs in San Francisco who were associated with Norman and the club.

  Tatum sat at the table with Jeannie and Ava. The boys had long been put to bed before Sugar burst through the front door, his eyes wild and desperate. “We need help Tate,” he said coming into the kitchen, his clothes dirty and what looked to be road rash on the side of his face.

  Tatum sat staring at him waiting for him to elaborate. “What’s going on?” she said as one of the other guys limped in through the door.

  “It’s a long story, I’ll fill you in about it on the way, but we need some guns and an extra hand. Jager and Phil are going to be pissed but we don’t have a choice.”

  Immediately Jeannie and Ava began digging into their purses and pulled out their revolvers. Sugar picked one up off the table and held it out to Tatum. She raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head. “I’m good,” she said, “swing by the club on the way.”

  They piled into one of the clubs vans. It was all black with tinted out windows. Bobo was driving and appeared to be the only one who wasn’t filthy. He put the car into drive before the door was closed and sped off towards the club, as per Sugars request. They screeched tires and nearly tipped over going around a turn. They were in a hurry and Tatum still didn’t know what for. She ran into the club quickly and emerged a minute later with a gym bag. Throwing it into the back of the van she pulled her hair back into a ponytail while Sugar opened the bag. Inside were five P90 PDW’S. The expression on the guys faces when they saw the small machine guns sent a wave of satisfaction over Tatum. She had brought them with her as a gift for the men and hadn’t found the right occasion to give them to them yet.

  Sugar explained then about the gang and how they had figured them out and ambushed the five guys that stayed behind from the warehouse drop. The head, Norman, grabbed the two other members while the three in the van managed to escape. Tatum knew that they would be on alert for them to return. She ordered Bobo to drop her off just outside the warehouse, while the three of them went right on up front. He was hesitant but figured he was in shit for involving her anyway. He hadn’t personally seen her in action, aside from kicking Jessica’s ass, but he’d heard enough about her to assume she could handle herself.

  He did what he was told and Tatum grabbed two of the guns, leaving the other three for the guys. She ran off into the woods that lined the dusty industrial park where the warehouse sat while Bobo revved up the van and sped up the lane. The guys braced themselves, holding onto the unlined metal walls in the back. Bobo pressed his foot to the gas until he couldn’t press it any further. The other member, John, let out a battle cry as the van neared one of the shipping garage doors in the warehouse. The van crashed through it, but not before Bobo hoped and prayed that his brothers we not directly behind it.

  Once the dust cleared, someone flung open the vans doors and violently grabbed Sugar by the shirt to haul him out. Once John was sure it wasn’t one of his guys, he open fired. Sugar dropped to the floor, arms covering his head as John and Bobo hopped out of the van and began shooting.

  It lasted only a minute before a deep voice yelled, “STOP! OR I SHOOT!” Bobo, John and Sugar froze. The dust dissipated and they saw Norman with his arm around Jagers neck, a gun pressed to his head. They held up their guns to show that they were stopping. Bobo looked around and saw all of his brothers, lying with their foreheads to the floor, hands flat out in front of them. There were about fifteen of Norman’s men surrounding them with shot guns. Phil looked up and made eye contact with him, silently pleadi
ng with him to get them out of this mess. Bobo winked at his brother to let him know he had something up his sleeve. He just wasn’t sure Phil would like it.

  One of Norman’s men stood next to him while the rest stayed by the guys. Sugar noticed there was a large wooden crate next to them, obscuring a door that appeared to be opened, as he tried to come up with an escape plan, should Tatum fail at helping them. He didn’t see how she could get them out of this. He was looking at the ceiling when he thought he saw something whiz past him, overhead. He followed the object and heard it hit the wall behind the guys and then ding to the floor. The man standing next to Norman looked at his boss and walked over to check it out when Norman motioned for him to do so. The rest of the men in the room were looking around, trying to figure out what had just happened. Only Gary saw the other object sail through the air and land somewhere behind Norman, only this time it didn’t clatter to the ground. There was no metallic ringing like the first one.

  Gary turned his head as the henchman picked up the first object, a small hunting dagger. He looked toward his boss, as did everyone just in time to see the man’s arm slowly fall from Jagers neck. A second later the hand with the gun followed and Norman fell to his knees. Gary noticed a streak of blood creeping its way down Normans pristine white dress shirt. Jager took advantage of his freedom and quickly moved to grab Norman’s gun off the floor, pointing at anyone who drew nearer to him.

  Norman wasn’t dead, he’d probably survive. He was lying on the floor cringing in pain, trying to pull the now-visible knife out of his back, completely unaware that Jager was pointing his own gun at him. His guy, the one holding the other knife made a move to walk towards them but Tatum emerged from behind the crate, a gun in each hand.

  Phil saw her and jumped up, ignoring the shotguns surrounding him. One of Normans men cocked back and was about to shoot but not before Tatum let loose and took him and another man out in the process. Jager turned when Phil stood and saw Tatum for the first time. His heart constricted and immediately he thought of finding April on the floor in their bathroom, lying in her own blood, half of her head blown off. She noticed his panicked expression and offered him a quick smile and a wink to assure him it was fine.

  “Put your guns down,” she yelled calmly to Norman’s men, holding each gun out at either side, pointed in the direction of about six of the men. They knew that by the time it took them to load their shot guns, she’d have them all finished with just an ounce of pressure from her finger. They began to lower their weapons. One of them however, decided to be a rebel and let loose. He shot into midair, hitting nothing besides the rafters. Still, everyone ducked and began to scatter. The San Francisco guys grabbed what shot guns they could but had to move quickly as half of Norman’s men never had a chance to lay theirs down yet.

  Tatum open fired, first taking out the guys who took the guns from Sugar, John and Bobo. She ran with Jager behind the crate and peered out only to shoot the opposition. Eventually, the gunfire slowed, and the sounds of moaning and grief filled the warehouse. Slowly, Jager made his way out from around the crate, Tatum following behind.

  Norman was nowhere to be seen but most of his guys were. Amidst the racket of the guns, some of them had escaped out of the broken garage door, but the majority was on the ground. Very carefully, the guys emerged and all were relieved that everyone was unscathed, aside from a scattered scratch and bruise. Phil rushed to his daughter and hugged her tightly. He kissed her and smoothed her hair and the worry in his eyes was enough to bring Tatum to tears.

  “I’m fine Phil,” she said with a smile. He let her go eventually, swallowing hard.

  “I need to remember that you’re tough… I just… I just found you. The thought of losing you terrifies me darlin’. That’s why we didn’t tell you.”

  Tatum looked into her father’s eyes, “I’m not going anywhere,” she said slowly, pronouncing every syllable and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ve been doing this since I could walk.”

  Phil smiled then as Tatum turned to Jager, who was squat down a few feet away, leaning against the wall, all of his weight on the balls of his feet. His hands in his hair, supporting his head. She knew he was watching her ever since he was aware she was in the warehouse. He stood, seeing her looking at him. Making his way over to her he wrapped her in his arms. He pressed a hard kiss to her temple, and then another to the top of her head. “I can’t handle this Tate,” he said before pulling away and looking at her with his brows furrowed. He studied her face for a moment more before planting another kiss on her forehead and walking away.

  She didn’t know what to think. What couldn’t he handle?

  The guys made their way out of the warehouse and towards the van, praying that it would start. Sugar walked up behind Tatum and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “I knew you’d help. I didn’t doubt you for a second.” He smiled at her and pulled her in to kiss her on the head before hopping into the van.

  Jager was sitting in the back right hand corner. She made eye contact with him as she hopped in and his face was still full of worry. He chewed on his lip as he watched her slide the door closed. She was about to sit there in the middle of the floor, as there were no seats but instead he motioned, raising his chin, for her to come and sit with him. He slid his feet down, removing his knees from his chest and reached for her hand as she maneuvered her way in the moving vehicle.

  Phil watched him as he pulled her down to sit between his legs. Jager knew it and didn’t care. He needed her near him right now, regardless of how mad and worried he was. He put his hands on her hips first, testing the waters before he wrapped them around her waist, drawing her closer. He could imagine, even on top of her sweater how soft her stomach was. The thought of her being topless floated into his mind not for the first time that day. She inhaled slowly but deeply and Jager was about to sit up, give her some distance when she settled back into him, laying her arm on his and turning her head slightly to rest on his chest. He laid his forehead against the back of her head. He breathed deeply, the scent of her shampoo filling his nose. The way he felt for her was too much. Every ounce of his being wanted her, all day, forever. He wanted to kiss her, explore her body with his mouth. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. April was his first and, up until Tatum, only love, but the way he felt for Phil’s daughter made him question whether or not he truly ever did love the mother of his children.

  Besides the guarantee of Phil beating him bloody for becoming involved with Tatum (an agreement they both reached when Phil found out about Tatum’s sleepover the night before), Jager knew that he’d get hurt because of her. Not in the way that breaking up with someone would hurt, but in the way that he was so positive that something terrible would happen, yet here now, with her so close to him, the smell and feel of her, he didn’t know how much longer he could fight it.

  They arrived back at the club, the groupies and wives having heard of their ordeal, patiently waited outside. Apparently, being held hostage and on the brink of death, puts whores and this group in a celebratory mood. Tatum didn’t know what category she fit in at that point because after she showered and changed, she was had a good time too. The beer was never ending, the music loud.

  Eventually Jager loosened up. For the first half of the night he’d simply hung out on the couches, laughing, drinking and smoking with the guys. A few groupies were vying for his attention but his eyes were on Tatum as she danced with Ava. The way she moved had the club wondering if she didn’t take a few strip classes herself. Gary had to look away a few times, purposely avoid her because each time she’d glide her hips in a circle he’d get stiff. Phil was sitting right in front of him, with his back to his daughter, glaring at him. It wouldn’t be hard to see a rise in his pants.

  The worst part was that Tatum didn’t sit down. She danced for hours. Even when Ava gave up and went to sit with some of the other girls, Tatum kept on.

  Jager was having a rough time ignoring her as well. The more he dran
k, the braver he became. Melanie, one of the groupies, had taken up residency on his laps and he’d grown tired of fighting her off. Tatum turned and noticed. The look in her eyes was pure ice and fire at the same time. He knew it was taking everything in her not to walk over and rip Melanie’s hair out. When she made eye contact with him he saw something besides rage in there too… hurt. It nearly killed him, so he stood, causing Melanie to fall on her ass and to pout up at him like a sullen child. Jager ignored her and walked up to Tatum. She tried to ignore him, choosing that time to walk away towards the bar. Except, before she took two steps Jager grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She turned hesitantly and avoided looking up at him.

  “What’s the matter Tate?” he asked with a sly smile that told her he already knew. She didn’t want to give him that leverage. She didn’t want him to know how jealous she was so instead she looked up at him and smiled. “I’m too sober for this shit. I need another drink.” His smile fell just slightly then, his eyes growing serious. He stood simply staring at her, still holding onto her wrist. Her eyes began to fill with tears. She knew she would never have him. Knew he’d never let anyone else in again. The spite filled her. She wasn’t used to not getting what she wanted yet she didn’t look away.

  Their gazes never faltered as a tear betrayed her and slid down her cheek. He breathed deep and pulled her to him, placing his hands on her hips as the song slowed down. The movement made her inhale deeply, shakily, so as not to sob aloud. He slid his arm slowly around her back, pulling her closer to him. They danced.

  The way he smelled, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his body moved under his sweater had her nearly coming undone. Sliding her hand up his chest, she rested it on his neck. He drew lazy circles on her hip and she felt his erection grow against her stomach. The tension between them was palpable. He knew that Phil would have something to say about this later, but right now, for that moment he didn’t look up. Just pressed his lips to the top of her head and savored the feel of her against him.