Page 49 of Tank

“So where they fuck are they heading?” Rhodie barks. Chomper jumps in his arms and Rhodie murmurs and apologizes to the special guy.

“By the looks of the tracker, they’re almost in Ironwood.”

This has my ears pricked up ready to listen. Ironwood is where Roman’s body disposal is located. My MC brothers recognize the location as they all stiffen at the mention.

“Now, what’s a bunny that strips in Roxburgh got to do with a dodgy funeral home in Ironwood?” Pops asks, stroking his beard.

We all sit or stand around in silence, Mira’s eyes are huge and I can see the thoughts ticking over in her mind. Up until now it’s been quiet around the clubhouse, the only action she’s seen was when Nitro was escorted to the police department. Now she’s seeing what we really do.

“There’s no paper trail from the funeral home to Spinners or vice versa,” Remy says, her fingers flying over her phone screen.

“Nothing I can see either Pres,” Wire backs her up, doing the same thing on his laptop behind her.

“Well, I don’t care if there’s a trail or not, I’m going to get my Ol lady, and then I’m going to spank her ass for getting herself kidna-”

The door flings open and for a split second I wonder why the fuck we have Jimmy on the gates if people are always barging through the door anyway.

“Honey, I’m hoooooome!”

Blanche

“Tav is going to lose his shit and then gentle parent me into never getting kidnapped again,” I groan as I try to wriggle into a more comfortable position. Which is kinda hard as I’m lying on the hard floor of a big, blue van. I mean, could the kidnapper be any more obvious?

“I wonder how he turned out like that?” Chewy ponders from her position a few feet from me. Seriously, this van is huge. “You know, this van is very roomy. It’s also not as gross as I would have expected.”

I take in the back of the van and I have to agree with her. There’s three single seats down one side of the vehicle, and a big lift type set up thing behind me. There is a wheelchair sticker on the back window so I’m guessing this guy has stolen this car from a needy person. What an absolute asshole. I tell him that fact, and he can hear every word as there isn’t a wall or anything between us. Just the two front seats, a center console and empty floor space with me and Chewy rolling around.

“You bitches keep your mouths shut! I don’t want to hear your whiny bullshit.” He glares at me in the rearview and I poke my tongue out seeing as I can’t flip him my middle finger.

“Hey! Mr.! Is that a wheelchair lift back there?” Chewy calls out then looks at me. “This van would be great for moving furniture. Oh! Or like a piano, just roll that sucker on.” Sherolls over so she’s facing the Maui Orc. “Hey, did you steal this van or is it yours? Are both your legs real or are you wearing prosthetics? I didn’t notice anything unusual in your gait but I wasn’t paying that much attention.” His eyes flick to the mirror and I know by the resigned look on his face that he knows Chewy won’t leave these questions unanswered.

“It’s my van, happy? Now shut the fuck up.” He speeds up, obviously trying to get rid of us sooner, rather than later.

Chewy flops around a little until she rolls to face me, then does some type of Raygun wriggle to move herself closer to me. “I’m gonna take his van,” she whispers, waggling her brows, “The boys can give her a paint job and all that stuff. It’s a good investment.”

I stare at her. “Chewy, can you even drive?”

“Of course I can! I just choose not to.” Her eyes dart away and I file it away to ask Tav. Ugh, he will be losing his shit right now. His overprotectiveness is bad at the best of times, but with me cooking our little nugget I can’t imagine how he’s dealing with it.

“He’ll be fine, you know,” Chewy says, looking me in the eye, earnestly, for a quick moment before looking elsewhere. “He’s professional. He’ll be able to set aside what he’s feeling to do his job. I’ve seen him do it numerous times.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She nods, and it makes the sinking feeling in my stomach ease a little.

“Although, because he is so good at his job, we only have around a half hour, forty minutes tops to turn the table on the piggy man.”

“Maui Orc.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s OK. You don’t need to.”

“I also don’t like the way it feels in my mouth. And it’s too long. I’m going to call him Morc.”

“Fine.”

She nods. “Good.”

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