Page 66 of Tank

Sorry Nana, but what the actual fuck? How the fucking hell did she get foot fetish from that scene? My face must be saying what I’m thinking because Gus pulls his lips between his teeth to stop himself from laughing. I’m about to lean over and tell him to shut up when there’s some banging in the hall. My gaze shoots to Gus who seems to be completely unbothered.

“What was that?” crazy lady asks, walking to stand in front of Gus, the barrel of her gun pressed into his forehead.

“I have no idea, lady. We’re the only one’s here.”

Her gaze narrows and she pulls out her phone. I really need to know where she got her outfit from because it seems to have unlimited pockets. Before I can ask, she starts speaking incredibly fast, in some other language, maybe Russian? She sneers at Gus then yells something at her phone, hanging up.

She opens her mouth, but whatever she is planning to say gets cut off by the beautiful sound of motorcycle pipes pulling up outside of the clubhouse.

“Don’t. Move.” To ram that point home she knocks both Gus and me on the top of the head with her weapon. Not hard enough to knock us out, but a good enough warning to not do anything stupid.

Not that I have to. No way, not with my viking coming through the clubhouse door like a warrior ready to avenge his love. His bright blue eyes find mine, boring into me, allowing me to see the love and fear and rage.

Oh, it’s on like Donkey Kong!

Tank

After we watch Roman drive off we mount our bikes waiting for Pres’s orders. The excitement of riding out and killing two birds with one stone, avenging Jimmy and finding out who’s stalking my girl, has me anxious to get home and see my Ol Lady. Waiting on our orders to roll out behind Pres, I notice him check his phone and stiffen slightly as he reads his screen. Butterflies hit my gut and I can’t shake the feeling that shit is about to hit the fan. Marx taps a few things then brings his phone to his ear, his murmuring too low for me to eavesdrop.I guess he’ll tell us all if it’s something bad.

Just when I’m starting to relax a little, Jules stiffens next to me, looking at his screen too. He whispers something to Chewy and they both do a weird sibling communication thing where they stare at each other a beat, then both nod.

“What do you think that was about?” Judge asks, his voice low next to me.

“No idea, but it can’t be good,” I reply as I watch Chewy efficiently place Gretchen in the SUV and pull herself into the passenger seat. Jules catches Marx’s eye, giving some type of hand signal then pulling out, heading back toward Rose Grove.

“Listen up! We got a woman on the road outside the clubhouse. Her car broke down along the road. Facial rec hasn’t thrown up any red flags and Mira doesn’t recognize her as a fan. Gus has the women and kids in the safe room and placed the Landrys at different points around the clubhouse. Jules and Chewy will be taking the back roads and running lookout. It may be nothing,” he leaves the rest hanging, because we all know this could turn out to be something. “Let’s roll out.”

We leave Roxburgh as if we have all the time in the world, not wanting to draw any attention to ourselves, but once we’re on the main road we open up, Winnie roaring beneath me, eating up the distance between me and my Ol Lady.

Even thinking of Mira wearing my cut and my name has my cock thickening. I’ve waited a long time for a woman to call my own, and now that I’ve got her, every luscious, creative, crazy inch of her, I’m never letting her go. I’ll need to order her a cut. She’ll be over the moon, and so will the other Ol Ladies. They’ve already adopted her into the girl gang, which does worry me a little because Mira is enough trouble on her own, but I can’t think of a better group of women for her to have her back. From what I’ve learned, she has had very few “real life” friends and even less family. Well shit, now she has more friends and family than she can count.

Pulling into the outskirts of Rose Grove I clock what must be the car the woman who needed help was driving. I signal to Marx that I’m pulling over to check it out, and in true Pres fashion he signals we all pull over. Even though Big D has been taken care of, this whole Jimmy thing illustrated that we’re not as bulletproof as we once thought.

Throwing my leg over my bike I wander around the car, taking in the tires, none seem flat or damaged. The bonnet is slightly open from where someone must have checked inside and not closed it properly. Peering in I notice the spark plugs are missing.

“Aw fuck,” Judge says under his breath, then gripping my shoulder hard, the pain bringing me back to myself, snapping me out of the downward spiral I was doing.

It’s a fucking setup.

“Tank?” Pres asks, brow raised.

“Spark plugs have been removed,” I answer, my voice tight.

“Fuck.”

We run back to our bikes and I speed out, not even waiting for my brothers. I know that Gus has taken all the precautions, but I can’t help but think that somehow he missed something.Somehow it’ll all go wrong, and I can’t let that happen. Not when I’ve found my Ol Lady.

The gate is open where Gus or someone else left it, letting us roll in without slowing, parking our bikes as efficiently as we can. I dismount and head straight through the doors, coming to an abrupt stop when I see my woman sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, Gus on one side, Remy on the other, Takoda lying on the floor, dried blood at his temple. If Pres lost his shit when Jimmy was shot, I can’t imagine how he’s going to take another hurt prospect.

“Remy!” Wire yells, rushing to his Ol Lady and then stopping in his tracks when the dark-haired woman turns her gun on Remy rather than him. Wire holds his hands up, backing up slowly, the tension in his body palpable.

My eyes dart to my woman, her wide green eyes staring back at me, but instead of fear I see, fuck, is that excitement? She beams at me and I hang my head.

“Any of you move, she dies,” the woman behind her says, gun trained at Mira’s head.

“Can I just point out that if I die there won’t be anymore books,” Mira says conversationally.

The woman behind her takes a swift intake of breath at this knowledge, turning to point the gun at Gus instead.

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