Chapter 5 - The Police

Tatum's P.O.V.

"Do you like omelets? I know it's close to midnight, but you need to stay up, so how about I make omelets and hashbrowns?" Sasha looks at me with her eyes narrowed.

"You're going to cook? How is that possible?" I want to laugh at the confusion on her face. Whoever put these negative thoughts in her head regarding wealthy people really did a number on her.

"Yes, I can cook. I prefer to cook for myself rather than eat takeout or have someone else cook for me. So, will you let me cook for you?" I walk over and sit on the other end of the couch. Sasha looks like she's having an internal debate.

"Sure, but only because you're already cooking for yourself." She sighs and looks around.

"Do you want me to have the police come so you can talk to them?" She crosses her arms over herself and looks down. I jump up and kneel next to the couch so we're at eye level. When I take her hand, she looks at me.

"Part of me wants to pretend it never happened, but I know they'll do it to someone else if I don't report it. Go ahead and call them. I know I have no right to ask you this, but will you sit with me when I talk to them?" I kiss the back of her hand and brush her hair from her face.

"Remember what I told you in the hospital? I'll do whatever you need to make you feel safe. If you want me to sit next to you or if you want me to hold you on my lap, just let me know. I want to take care of you." She looks into my eyes with a slight grin.

"I think I may have hit my head harder than I thought because there's no way you're real." I lean forward and kiss her forehead. Her face is so bruised I wish I could remove them all. I don't want her to have any reminders of that alley.

"I'm very real, sweetheart. Let me get started with your food and call the police. I talked to them briefly when I found you, but I think they almost thought I was the one who attacked you." Sasha scuffs.

"I saw the little rodents who did it. I don't think they were any more than eighteen or nineteen. If I was a little bigger, I might have been able to fight them off, but being petite and five-three, they were able to hold me down. I could have fought one of them off, but not both." Those bastards are going to die as soon as I find them.

"We'll find them and they'll pay for what they did to you." I get up, pull out my phone, and go to the kitchen. I call the police and let them know I have Sasha with me, and she's ready to talk to someone about what happened. They said someone would be right over. Once I hang up, I get started on cooking our food.

I cut up ham, peppers, onions, and mushrooms for the omelets. I then shred potatoes for the hashbrowns. While that stuff is cooking, I pour us each a glass of orange juice. We're basically eating a midnight breakfast, so we should have the juice to go with it. When everything is done, I put the food on plates and carry them to the living room.

"I can go to the table." Sasha tries to stand up, but I stop her.

"Nonsense. You can eat right here." I hand her the plate, but she still looks unsure.

"What if I spill something on your furniture or carpet? I can't afford to replace it." She sounds scared.

"I spill stuff all the time. Don't worry about it, I don't. Furniture and carpet with stains just means we lived and didn't act like stuffy snobs." Sasha chuckles lightly and then stops herself.

"You're definitely not like any rich person I've ever met." I doubt she's ever met a weregorilla, either.

"You're not having any pain, are you?" I ask as she gets ready to take a bite.

"No. I'm a little sore but would rather not take the meds if I can tolerate it." She puts a bite of her omelet in her mouth and closes her eyes. Hopefully, that means she likes it.

"Oh, my goodness. This is the best food I've ever eaten." She takes a bite of the hashbrowns, and her eyes widen.

"Did you make homemade hash browns? These aren't the frozen ones that come in the bag, are they?" I make a face at her.

"No way. Those are mushy and not worth buying. I prefer fresh. So I take it you like my cooking?" Sasha looks up at me between mouthfuls.

"I love it." She takes a sip of orange juice and then digs in again. I enjoy watching her as I eat my food. Just as we finish, the doorbell rings.

"Are you ready?" I ask her. She nods, and I go to the door. When I open it, I want to groan. It's the same two officers, and they're with a woman who I'm assuming is a detective.

"Hello again. She's in here." I move aside, but they don't move.

“Tatum Grant, you're under arrest for the rape of Sasha Andrews."