Altering Authority (7 page)

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 and 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.

“It’s ok, I get it,” she said after a minute, propping herself up slowly on her pillows. “Don’t do it again though ok? You’re supposed to be my friend,” she almost laughed at the word. She felt as if they were more, but technically, aside from a few flirtations, that was it. Jager looked up at her again then and came to sit at the end of her bed. He felt it to.
Friend
was such a stupid word for how he felt. He nodded anyway and began chewing on his bottom lip.

“This has been my life. Forever,” she continued, “I didn’t walk blindly into this. I know the pros and cons. Anything that happens to me has nothing to do with you. I’m not April…” she caught herself then. “… Not that we are like
that
. We are not together or anything, I just mean, I’m tough. I can handle it.”

Jager nodded along. They both sat silent for a minute. He pulled at some loose thread on her comforter. “I couldn’t handle losing you,” he said, not looking up and taking Tatum completely off guard. Her breath caught in her throat. “If we were together…” he paused and Tatum wished desperately he’d quit playing with that damn string and look at her. “…If we were together, losing
you
would be worse.” He looked up at her and his brows were furrowed. She could tell that he was pained.

“I’m not going anywhere Jager,” she said sincerely. “Only the good die young right?”

He smiled at her then. That was the difference, he thought, between Tatum and April. April was always so worried about everything. So scared. She believed everyday was her last and he supposed, in a way, that can be a good thing for some people, if it made you live your life to the fullest. But with April it wasn’t. She was always the victim. Always paranoid.

He got up and grabbed her cell phone from the night stand. “Call me when you wake up or if you need anything,” he said. She nodded, grateful now that her meds were kicking in. He adjusted her blanket again as she sank down into her pillow, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she presented her cheek the way you’re supposed to. Instead he surprised her by turning her face toward his. He brushed his lips softly against hers. Not the way a couple would do necessarily, but not in any way she could imagine a relative doing to her either. He pulled away, only lingering a moment longer than a traditional kiss, and walked toward the door. “Save me some of those pain meds hey? They look pretty good,” he smiled and walked out, closing the door behind him.