Page 26 of Tank

“If that doesn’t work?” Rhodie asks his brother.

“We send in the women.” Marx’s eyes track around the room looking for any disagreement. He finds none. “Good. That’s settled. Prospects? Draw up a roster, I want two on them at all times, up to you how you all work it.”

“Got it Pres,” they murmur, from their places along the back wall.

“Good. What do we have on Mira?”

“Not a lot. As we heard out there Flora’s Buds was a bust on getting anything out of the security cameras or Officer Davies’ mom.” A few brothers snort and Wire keeps giving his report. “Chewy set up a program, it’s going through all of Mira’s social media messages as we speak. It’s set up to flag any fans that may have questionable behavior.”

“Dude, she writes romance books with really hot sex and people being murdered. I’d be surprised if any of her fans don’t have questionable behavior,” Tav says.

“How do you know that her books have really hot sex in them?” Rhodie asks, turning to look at Tav.

“I flicked through one of her books while I was waiting for church. There’s some good stuff in there. I’m going to try it on Blanche when the kids are in bed.” He waggles his brows and we all groan in unison.

Marx sits drumming his fingers on the dark, scarred wood of our church table. It feels like we’re fighting on all sides, and yet it’s nothing like what we’ve been up against in the past. It feels like two annoyances, although I know as well as any brother around this table that small annoyances can turn into big fucking problems. My mind drifts back to being stationed in Afghanistan. I lost brothers who went on short low dangermissions to never come back after running into landmines, or ambushes.

“If we can’t work out who’s behind this, maybe we can find out where the body parts are coming from? Are they being bought on the dark net or is it something else?” This is the first time Sniper has spoken this meeting, and he has a fucking valid point.

“Remy and I had a quick look, but most of the organs for purchase are all for donation, so they would have to be kept on ice. Chewy said that there’s no sign of that,” Wire frowns. I know my brother struggles with not being able to find the answers for things.

“Well, maybe it’s not as bad as we think.” We all stare at Rider. “OK, so four people have died, but we haven’t had a visit from Roman in a long time. When that asshole turns up you know it’s going to be bad.” What Rider’s saying does make sense. Maybe it isn’t as bad as we think.

Banging has all our heads snapping to the doors of church, hands on weapons. Fuck! The Ol Ladies are all out there and all of us, including prospects, are in here.

“Oh Maaaaaarx!” Chewy’s voice sing songs, the tension in the room dropping by a mile.

Marx runs a hand down his face, then waves at Rhodie to see what his Ol Lady wants. Rhodie makes his way to the door just as it swings open with such force that I’m certain that little lady must have kicked it.

“Babe! What’s wrong?” Rhodie asks, dodging the swinging door.

“Roman’s here. Has some important information.”

We all groan, Dex shooting daggers at Rider. “You just had to, didn’t you? Speak his name and the Devil appears.”

“I thought that was more Pops, but OK, I agree with you. But, like, really, what were the chances that Russian dick would turn up out of the blue like that?”

“It’s Roman,” Marx says in a tired voice.

“Yeah, alright. My bad.” Marx stares at Rider before waving Rhodie to let Roman in.

The tall, dark Russian strides in like he owns the place and my mind goes to Mira and if she’s OK. Although, I’m sure if anything happened the women would have taken care of it. And Roman isn’t dangerous per se. He’s more the bringer of shitty news and problems.

“Well, isn’t this a treat? You’ve never allowed me into the inner sanctum. I must say however, that I do have the name of a great decorator should you ever wish to use their services.”

“You know, I was just thinking the other day how peaceful Christmas was with you all the fucking way over in Russia, keeping your business to yourself.” Marx says drily.

Roman smirks at Pres, “Aw, Marx, did you miss me?” Roman comes to a stop next to Rider.

Rider arches his neck until he’s staring directly at Roman. “Can I help you?”

Roman continues to stare and even though I know Rider can be just as violent and tough as the rest of us, I know that prolonged eye contact with another male will get him squirming any minute now.

“Fine!” Rider jumps up and moves to lean against the wall, muttering “Fucker,” and flipping him the bird.

Roman takes no notice, unbuttoning his suit jacket and using his hands to toss both sides out before taking Rider’s seat, crossing one leg over the other.

“Roman, I can’t be bothered with your bullshit today. Say what you need to say and then you can go back to wherever the hell you’ve been hiding lately.”

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