Page 32 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

Tank parks the bike with practiced ease, then swings a leg over to dismount, before offering me a hand.

“Figure we’d take a little detour,” he says, gesturing before us.

“It’s gorgeous out here.”

Tank towers over me, blocking out the sun. The leaves overhead catch the wind, casting his features in shadows. He’s a sinful, beautiful man.

He extends a hand for me to take.

“Follow me. I want to show you something.” He turns then toward and heads to the edge of the cliff. I follow, near jogging to keep pace with his long legs.

He stops right at the drop off of a cliff’s edge.

The thought of him tossing me over the edge rushes through my mind, but then his expression becomes a mix of curiosity and concern that seems out of place on his rugged features. He wouldn’t do that, I realize.

“See out there. That’s the heart of our operation.” He points a massive hand to sweeping fields beneath us. Acres upon acres of green marijuana plants, swishing in the wind.

The vastness of it all is overwhelming. Row upon row of cannabis plants stretch out before me, far as the eye can see. It's a hidden empire. The heart of their organization. Reynold’s has been looking for years on where they grow all the weed. He’d lose his damn mind if he knew it was only two hours away.

“You have to be kidding me,” I breathe out.

He chuckles darkly, “Oh, baby girl, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He pauses, his gaze sharpening a bit. "You want to tell me about that ex-boyfriend of yours?"

The question hits harder than I expect a jolt amid the serene danger surrounding us. I am reminded of the poorly manufactured facade I have up. I nod, hesitating as I choose my words. "It's complicated. I thought I was free of it, but old ties... they pull at you. He didn’t want me to leave, but I had to.”

He nods, understanding—or at least accepting—my vague response. We walk a bit further along the cliff’s edge; the only sounds are our footsteps and the distant call of an eagle overhead.

Tank stops, turning to face me fully now. "Look, Hawk asked me to keep an eye on you. Not just because of your ex or whatever hell he might drag to your doorstep, but because...Well, we don’t know you. Not really."

The admission stings. Is this their gentle way of letting me know that they don’t believe a word that’s come out of my mouth?

"I get it," I say, meeting his gaze squarely. "I don’t expect trust to be handed out. But I’m not here to cause problems, Tank. I just need somewhere to lay low for a while."

“There’s no way to know that you might be working with them still. Though it’d break my heart to find out.”

“I know. I get it. I’m a risk.”

“You’re more than a risk,” he chuckles, studying me for a moment longer. "Fair enough. But remember, this place," he gestures broadly to the fields around us, "it's sacred to us. Not just a crop, but a way of life. You respect it, you'll start earning the trust you need."

There’s a threat laced into his words.

A threat like the doll leg.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He grunts, a sound that might be agreement, then takes a step toward me.

“Hawk also mentioned that you're his.”

His voice is low, dangerous, and I can't help but flush at the possessiveness in his tone.

“He... might have exaggerated that part,” I stammer, my heart pounding in my ears. “We, uh, had a moment.”

Tank's eyes narrow, “Well, I think it’s rather selfish of him.” His words are light, but there's an undercurrent of darkness lurking just below the surface. "He knows better than to keep such a pretty thing to himself."

He's so close now, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of my own body, how it tingles in response to his proximity.

“I mean, let’s be honest. No one would have to know if I had a taste for myself.” His hand rests on the side of my face, drawinghis thumb along my jaw. “It’s just you and me out here, Izzy. No Hawk or Vance to get in our way.”

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