Page 5 of Tank

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I let it out and give my brother a nod. Nothing is better than feeling the wind in your face and now that the weather is getting a little warmer and the days a little longer, it sounds like the perfect form of therapy.

We quickly go about shutting down the office computer, turning off lights and setting the security alarm before mounting our bikes. My matte black softail with chrome detailing has been with me since I got out of the marines; the one constant in my life until I found the DRMC brotherhood. I didn’t have it as bad as some of my brothers - Wire, Sniper and Judge lost good men when they were posted overseas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle sometimes. My bike, Winnie, as I named her, is my solace on a bad day.

The wind flows around me, blowing away all the shit that fills up my head. By the time we reach the clubhouse my mood is seriously lifted, and continues to lift as soon as I walk in and smell the scent of fresh cookies wafting through the air.

“Don’t even think about it.” Rider says, stepping in front of me, stopping me getting closer to the heavenly scent.

“Rider, move.”

He shakes his head sadly, as if he would love to move, but he can’t. “No can do big man. You go in there and those cookies are destroyed. Never to be seen or worshipped again. Mama Debs has only made four dozen. There’s not enough.”

I raise my brow. There are a dozen members. The Ol Ladies never eat the cookies, or so they say, and the kids often have their own batch that Mama Debs makes.

“That’s enough for four each.”

“Nope. Sorry.”

I try to sidestep him but the lanky bastard is light on his feet, easily gliding from side to side getting in my way.

“How the hell are you so light on your feet?” I grumble, hands on him now, trying to move him aside.

“Years of ballroom dancing. Elderly widows pay well when you’re a handsome boy and good on your feet.” He grunts, trying to hold me back.

“Tank, think fast!” Judge calls, lobbing three cookies in my direction.

My hand goes up and they land gently in the palm of my hand, still hot.

“You cheating shit!” Rider yells, rushing at Judge before deciding his better move would be to get himself into the kitchen for cookies seeing as all the brothers are making their way in there. “ONE EACH YOU GREEDY FUCKS!”

Chuckling to myself I drop down onto the leather couch that’s seen better days, lean my head back and chew on my mouth-watering cookies.

“Yo Tank! Jimmy says there’s a woman at the gate for you.” Rhodie yells, phone pressed to his chest.

“A woman? I don’t know any woman,” I answer, staring at him in confusion.

He says something to Jimmy then pulls the phone back, “Her name is Mira,” I shake my head at him. It’s not ringing any bells. “Tall, blonde. Said she’s a friend of the ‘wrongly accused big blonde sex machine biker man,” His lips twitch and the nosey bastards in the kitchen make their way into the common room, acting as if they weren’t listening to Rhodie and my conversation. “She said you were holding cell neighbors.”

“A criminal woman! Criminal women are hot,” Rider says around a mouthful of cookie.

Letting out a sigh, I explain the situation. “She’s not technically a criminal. She wanted help with research but it went wrong and she got taken in for harassment and indecent exposure.”

Everyone looks confused, and I don’t blame them. She was very confusing. And memorable. Whenever my thoughts aren’t filled with work, DRMC and whoever snitched on me, they’re filled with a slightly nuts bouncy blonde. Which would explain why the hell I invited her to Christmas.

“Is she going to be a danger?” Marx asks, standing at the mouth of the hall and snapping me out of my runaway thoughts.

“She doesn’t have anyone in her life that I could tell, and she’s kinda unusual, but not dangerous.” I answer my Pres.

He stares at me for a moment then tips his chin up. “Tell Jimmy to let her in, Rhodie. Let’s see what she wants with wrongly accused big blonde sex machine biker man,” Marx says with a smirk.

I brace myself for what’s coming. I know that whatever it is will be a hell of a trip, that’s for sure. In mere moments, she walks in, looking every bit as stunning as I remember. Dressed in purple skin-tight pants that highlight her thick thighs and rounded hips, black and white striped oversized shirt thing hanging off one shoulder, pink high heels and blonde curlspulled into a high ponytail with a sequined yellow bow, it’s like a rainbow threw up in the clubhouse.

“There you are, prison buddy! How’s life been treating ya? I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I was almost arrested, but I got away with a warning at the scene. Phew! Vegas was a total trip! Oh, hi biker people! Oh look! There are ladies and babies here too!”

She makes a beeline for Nat, Ana and Lovely who have just walked in with their babies.

“Well hello there,” Nat says, greeting the new woman. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Mira, a friend of the criminal over there. Practically shared a cell, Shawshank style,” she says, waving in my direction.

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