Page 8 of Tank

“Come on Tank, spill! She was gorgeous AND she looked like a lot of fun. We need more fun women around here,” Ana adds. Lovely nods emphatically.

“I think you need more boring women around here. You lot are trouble,” Savage says, kissing Nat on the top of her head from behind the couch.

“Shush you. Don’t cramp our style. Or steal our pink or whatever the hell the saying is when new moms are trying to get their mojo back. It’s been Momville since we popped out these precious bundles. We need excitement. And these lovely ladies-” Nat waves toward Ana and Lovely “- need more than just me to hang out with.”

“Maybe don’t say it like that. It makes it sound like me and Lovely don’t have any other friends,” Ana says to her.

“You don’t,” Chewy says, pushing Chomper in his stroller, parking him up next to me and then joining the other ladies in staring at me. “Spill, dude.”

I scrub my hand down my face, knowing they’ll harass me until I’ve spilled everything I know. “Fine. I met her the day I was taken into the station. She was in the holding cell next to mine. She writes ‘sexy murder books’,” I say, using my fingers as quotation marks, “and she was arrested when she persistently asked a big man if he could lift her up, then something happened and she slipped and fell on top of him with her tits out.”

“Wait,” Chewy asks, head tipped to the side. “How’d her tits fall out?”

“You’ll have to ask her for those details,” I shrug. I mean, I’m still not overly sure about the finer details.

“Huh,” Chewy says, squinting at me. “I’m sure I can get it out of her.”

I stare at her. Chewy is, for want of a better word, disturbed. In the best possible way. Sometimes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I won’t hurt her. I’ll just ask.” She frowns.

“I wouldn’t get too attached if I were you,” Rhodie says, coming up behind his woman, pulling her back into his front. “She wants to set up an office here in the common room to write her MC themed book. Marx ain’t gonna let that fly,” he says, dropping a kiss onto the top of Chewy’s mop of hair.

“Listen up!” Marx calls us to attention. “Mira here will be based here at the clubhouse while she writes her book for the next two weeks. Nobody mess with her. Got it?” Marx’s voice booms out, making all us brothers stare wide-eyed in their direction.

“What the actual fuck?” Rhodie whispers, staring at his brother like he has two heads.

Probably in the same way I’m staring. Not just at Marx wondering what the fuck is going on, but also at Mira, Writer Lady, who has a massive grin on her face as she waves back at everyone, including Blanche who walked in just before Marx’s announcement. The women speed talk to get her up to date, all hustling in Mira’s direction.

“Church!” Marx calls out, surprising us as we never meet midweek. Luckily, we’re all here, so we file into the room where all our serious business takes place.

Judging by my brother’s faces I can tell we’re all a little shell shocked by Marx’s announcement. Not just because we don’t know Mira, and Wire hasn’t vetted her, but also because he never ran it by Rhodie or Rider, his VP enforcer and SAA.

“What the fuck, Marx?” Rhodie barks as soon as his ass hits his seat.

“Brother, watch your tone,” Marx growls back, staring him down, and then the rest of us. “I know this seems out of left field,but I think we can all agree that a woman like Mira, a writer and ballsy as fuck, judging by how she met Tank,” his eyes flick to mine, “is not the type to discourage easily. As in, if she wants to research our MC for her romance book or whatever, she’ll do that with, or without our help. Or permission.”

Now that he’s pointing it out, I can see where he’s coming from. The woman got arrested after harassing a man much larger than her. She’s not going to stop coming around here even if we do say no. Although she’s more likely to stalk us from afar. This way, we can control how much she learns about us.

“So, you give her access, and we sanitize how much she sees?” Savage asks, as per usual right on the same wavelength as Marx. Makes sense as he was a Pres himself once.

“Exactly, brother. This also means,brother,” Marx directs to Rhodie, his actual brother, “that we need Chewy on her best behavior.”

“Hey! She’s been pretty normal lately. Business has been settled and she hasn’t maimed anyone for ages.”

“Dude, she owns a fucking gator,” Dex says.

“Well, aside from Chomper. But he’s, like, totally a normal pet. Loads of people have gators as pets,” Rhodie answers sounding a little butthurt that someone would want to use Chomper as a reason for Chewy not to be “normal.”

“In Texas?” Nitro asks, brow raised. He’s fucking with Rhodie, because I can see his lips twitching.

“Yes, in fucking Texas! Besides, it’s not my woman you should worry about. It’s the rest of them. You know they’re all a little wild. Especially when they get together,” Rhodie lays out, the MC brothers all nodding in agreement. We’ve all had to get involved in wrangling the women at least once during girls’ nights, and it’s not pretty.

“Shit, yeah you’re right. Everyone, try to keep an eye on the women. As much as you can without it being suspicious. The lastthing we need is for them to get into trouble. I know things have been kinda settled recently, Tank’s arrest aside, so let’s try to keep it that way. We’re not a fucking 1% club, but shit if it hasn’t felt like it at times.” Marx runs a hand down his beard, looking more relaxed than he has for a while. Or I guess as relaxed as he can be given that he’s just agreed to let a romance author set up base for a couple of weeks.

“On it, Pres. Try to keep the women and their crazy shit away from the nice writer lady,” Fox nods.

“Hopefully she’ll be busy tapping away on her laptop working on her book, rather than getting drunk and disorderly with the Ol Ladies.”

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