Page 65 of Tormented
When I left home, I was counting down the hours until I could turn around and get the hell away from him and his games again. And now? Jesus, I’m weak.
“You eaten?” Tap cuts off my path toward the bar.
“A little.”
He lifts one brow.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Pringles, okay? I had a can of fucking Pringles right before I pulled into town.”
“Get your ass to the kitchen, girl.” He jerks his chin in the opposite direction of where I was headed. “Sure they’ll have something there for you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ve got a long drive ahead of you tomorrow.” He narrows his gaze on me. “Best you do it with a clear head.”
“Can’t a girl get a break before she’s shunted out the door again?” He has to have been talking with King. Swear the bastard is like the uncle I never had, always looking out for me.
“Not with your track record, love.” Tap crosses his heavily tattooed arms. The man’s the epitome of why you should never judge a book by its cover. On the outside he’s as soothing as wood smoke and mountain air, but dig a little past the surface and there’s one relentless bastard who’ll cut you down quicker than you can think to run.
“One day, Tap. Please.”
He shakes his head and thumbs toward the kitchen. “Late dinner, and then early night, yeah?”
“I’m not a child.”
His lips curl up on one side. “You act like one, you get treated like one.”
“Oh, come on. It was one time.”
“Three.”
“You and King really share everything, huh?”
He nods, steering me toward the promise of a full belly with his wide frame. I start walking when the pressure of his chest against my shoulder gets too much.
“Fine. I’m getting dinner.”
“Good. I’ll make sure you get there okay.”
I glance around at the dregs of what’s left after the Friday night rush. A handful of members are moping around nursing their heads already, while a couple of the younger guys are still trying to outdo each other at the bar. Half of the people who were here an hour ago have left already, having swept in like a hurricane to grab their fill of free drinks and drugs, and then left to sleep it off in the comfort of their suburban homes.
“There’s really no threat,” I assure Tap. “I think I can make it down a corridor on my own.”
He shadows me anyway as we pass the laundry and storeroom. I hesitate at the door to the kitchen and look down the darkened end of the corridor toward the bedrooms. Wonder if he’s already turned in? I didn’t see Sawyer come in, but his bike is still in the yard.
“Food,” Tap instructs as he sets a gentle hand on my shoulder and steers me in the room. “That’s all you should be thinking about.”
“I’m not like you men, you know. I do think about more than sex and food.” He scowls as I cross over to the twin fridges and pull the left one open to find nothing but alcohol. Speaking of men. “Am I doing something wrong that I should know about?”
He sighs, leaning back against the steel counter as I try the right fridge and find leftover mac and cheese. “Of all the guys in your life that you could take an interest in, you pick him?” Tap lowers his chin, glaring out at me from under his brow.
“What?” I try for nonchalance while I slip the plastic container into the microwave. “He’s a kindred spirit.”
Tap sighs heavily through his nose.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” I tease, knowing his concern would be anything but.
We’ve always got along, the few occasions we’ve had to hang out over the years. I’ve never been one of the girls who sleeps around in the club, never had aspirations to be one of the pampered whores like other girls did, and in some way I think that makes Tap more comfortable to have me as a friend. There’s no assumption of our bond ever being anything more.