Page 13 of Tank

“I’ll try not to,” I whisper back, trying not to laugh. These kids are a hoot.

“Well, hello there,kotiro. You must be the new girl Marx told me about. I’m Mama Debs, come and have somekai.” A little woman with curly dark hair takes me by the hand and leads me to the kitchen hatch, dropping said hand and stepping into the kitchen, ready to serve. “What’ll you have, sweetheart?”

I’ll have you thanks, the words flit through my mind. Her dark hair is in soft curls around her round face, a huge smile stretched across it, her eyes crinkling with joy. My hand goes to my chest as it fills with something I can’t quite put my finger on. It feels like happiness and sadness at the same time. The lasttime I saw a face like this was my Nana’s. Not in looks, my nana clearly looks nothing like Mama Debs given we have blonde hair and green eyes, and Mama Debs obviously has dark coloring. So no, not in likeness, but more so intent. The look that no matter what happens this woman will be there for you, always. To nurture you and love you unconditionally.

Looking along the counter at all the offerings my eyes widen. Shirt, I can see why Cove loves eating breakfast here.

“Um, maybe some pancakes and a piece of bacon, please? Oh, and maybe a hug for after?” Cheese and rice, play it cool Mira!

“Of course,e hoa.Pancakes, bacon and eggs coming right up, and a hug for after.” She grins.

My eyes get wider and wider as I watch her load the plate up with far more than I’ll be able to eat, but she smiles so happily while she does it that I keep my mouth shut. Once she’s done she sets it on the counter and then hustles around from behind the hatch. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach she pulls me into her, tugging my head gently so it rests on her much shorter shoulder. My larger frame is curled around the little plump woman and I don’t care. It’s the best feeling in the world. All too soon she pulls away, rubs my cheek and softly smiles up at me.

“Welcome to the family, dear.”

“Oh, my name’s Mira. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself.”

She grins up at me, her eyes squinting because of her cheeks pushing them up, “Welcome to the family, Mira.”

She bustles off quickly to serve some of the brothers and I take my overloaded plate to an empty seat at the table the women are sitting at. I figure it would be a good chance to get to know them a little better. Not to base any characters on them, but more to get the inner workings of what it’s like being an Ol Lady. People think writing romance is easy, but there is a buttload of research that goes into this stuff. Although thereare equal amounts of imagination as well. I don’t know any aliens, but that didn’t stop me writing a successful little series of novellas. “The Guys of Galaxis” is one series that I won’t be recommending to Marx. I snort to myself, imagining the big, bearded burly man reading it. Then laugh harder when I imagine him reading about the Galaxis’ penises and their hidden features, like the little tongue that sits at the base of their peens.

“You OK there, new girl?” Nat asks, a bemused smile on her face.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just imagining these guys reading some of my alien romances.” I wipe a tear from my eye and contemplate the best way to tackle the mountain of food Mama Debs served me.

“Wait, I thought you wrote murder romance?” Remy asks, peeling an orange for her daughter.

“Oh, I do. But I have a little side series, where the alien men are tall, broody and have an extra tongue at the base of their junk.”

Remy’s eyes grow wide. “The Guys of Galaxis? Is that you?” she gasps out. I smile and nod, Remy letting out a little squeal and clapping her hands. “Oh my gosh I love that series! Mannox is one of my many book boyfriends!”

I get a little flutter in my belly, excited at knowing someone has not only read my book but also enjoyed it.

“Wait, is that the one with the alien convict guy?” Nat asks, brow furrowed.

“Yes! That’s the one!” Remy yells, then turns to me. “Holy crap I can’t believe it’s you. That’s so cool!”

I take a bite of my eggs and try not to beam too wide. I don’t want these people to think that I think I’m too cool or something.

“Chewy, Mira wrote that book I gave you, the one where the heroine tortured the bad guy by infecting him with a tapeworm,” Remy says to Chewy.

“Oh, I didn’t read it, but that did sound cool. I’ve filed that away for future use.” She takes a sip of her smoothie. “What other good ideas have you got? I’ve done the spray foam, and an S&M style one.”

She must mean she’s thought about it already, rather than used it on people. Devil’s Rose MC is not a 1% club, they’re good guys who do charity runs and donate toys and things like that. Maybe her and Rhodie come up with ideas for torture and things. I mean, I can’t imagine charity run bikers need to torture a lot.

“Well, the tapeworm was one of my favorites. I also like to write about psychological torture rather than physical torture.”

Chewy’s eyes narrow slightly, “Physical torture yields results quicker.”

“That’s true,” I agree, taking a bite of eggs. “Hmm, well, what about burning?”

Nat and Remy are looking between the two of us, clearly intrigued.

“Chinese drip torture with acid instead of water. However, that type of burning isn’t widespread so maybe deliberate but widespread over the body would work well?” She pinches her bottom lip between her thumbs and forefinger and stares at the wall, in thought.

“I would do bottoms of the feet. They’re a lot more sensitive than people give them credit for. There’s a bunch of nerve endings in them.”

“Yes! I like the way you think,” Chewy says, briefly glancing at me with dancing eyes.

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