by Chiah Wilder
“Yeah, right.”
“Lena, what we feel for each other is real. I’ve never felt this way about any other woman.” He leaned in close. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Lena thrust her body against his, forcing him to take a step back. “I’ve got news for you—you’ve already lost me.”
She bent down, scooped up her keys, and opened the SUV’s door. Tank didn’t try to stop her as she got behind the wheel and started the engine. Backing out of the parking space, she sped out of the lot as tears of heartbreak slid down her face.
Tank
Ten days later
Tank finished the text to Lena, and was about to hit Send for what felt like the hundredth time since that fateful night, when the pounding of the gavel drew his eyes up. Hammer stood at the head of a conference table with Cougar at his side.
“Church is starting.”
“What the fuck happened with Flannigan?” Ice demanded.
Hammer glared at him, then slowly laid the gavel down on the table. “We’ve got an agenda here, and that’s not on it this time,” he snapped.
“Why the fuck not? It’s huge. Some of the brothers fucked-up big at the arms deal” —Ice waved his hand around the room while looking at the members— “and a lot of us here wanna find out why.”
“Flannigan’s never double-crossed the club before, so some shit must’ve gone down that we have a right to know about,” Maniac said.
“Hammer’s in charge, not you,” Cougar hissed. “So shut the fuck up.”
Maniac jumped to his feet, his face crimson, the veins at his temples visibly throbbing. “You wanna take this outside, fucker?”
Tank kneed Maniac’s leg to get his attention. When Maniac looked down at him, Tank gave him a look, as if to say that the timing wasn’t right and to cool the hell down. Breathing heavily, Maniac stood rigid, glaring at Cougar.
Hammer smirked and leaned back against the wall. After several tense seconds, Maniac, cussing under his breath, sat down.
“We still want to know what happened,” Fester chimed in. “The club goes way back with Flannigan. We started doing business with him back when Skull was prez.”
“We all know that, old man. We don’t need a fuckin’ history lesson,” Rubble grumbled, as Hammer and Cougar laughed.
Fester shook his head. “All I’m sayin’ is, a long history without no trouble means something’s fucked.”
“And it’s Flannigan,” Hammer growled.
“Then tell us what happened, because that’s not what we heard, ” Ice demanded.
“From who?” Cougar asked.
“The grapevine. The Insurgents, Angry Disciples, Grim Henchman, Skull Chasers.” Ice paused. “Do you want me to go on?”
Cougar banged his fist on the table. “Fuck them!”
“Seems like a lot of clubs—friendly and rival—are sayin’ we fucked this up. So, for the last time, what the hell went down?”
Most of the pro-Raptor members lifted their fists in the air to show solidarity with Ice. And, to Tank’s surprise, a few members who were staunch Hammer supporters joined in.
This fuck-up may be the break we need to take Hammer down. Tank looked down at his phone and hit the Send button, knowing Lena wouldn’t respond. He’d been sending her texts and calling her ever since that night at her restaurant. It had been the biggest shock of his life. He understood where she was coming from, and he probably would’ve reacted the same as her if the tables were turned. It killed him that he couldn’t tell her what was going on, but it was club business.
“Are we interrupting your social hour?”
Tank glanced up and slipped the phone into his cut’s pocket. “Not really,” he replied, meeting Hammer’s glare.
“You’ve been a nomad for too long—no fuckin’ phones are allowed in church.”
“I missed the memo.”
Cougar snorted. “It’s always been that way.”
What a dumb fuck. He doesn’t even know I’m messing with them.
Tank tipped his chair back on two legs and locked his hands behind his head. “Two of Flannigan’s men were gunned down at that deal. Let’s see… one was dating Fire’s ex-wife, and the other one was Hangman—a former Jagged Outlaw from the Skull presidency, and you,” —he smiled at Hammer— “were the one who was instrumental in getting him thrown out.”
“Don’t fuckin’ disrespect me! Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hammer screamed, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m just reporting the facts.”
Hammer’s face distorted with anger. “There are no fuckin’ facts!”
“You keep up your shit—you’ll be the next one to turn in your cut,” Cougar said.
“If this shit’s not true, then why all the fuckin’ drama?”
“I don’t need to tell you shit,” Hammer gritted out through clenched teeth.
Grid rapped his fingers on the table. “What Tank’s saying is what everyone’s saying.”
Another Hammer supporter catching on. I guess they’re not all dumbasses. Tank kept his gazed fixed on the VP as the room exploded with anger, frustration, and surprise. Hammer opened his mouth to speak, but apprehension washed over his features before he took a step forward and picked up the gavel.
The sound of wood on wood quieted the room. A bitter smile twisted Hammer’s lips as he raised his arms, gesturing everyone to sit down.
“I don’t know what happened at the arms deal because I wasn’t there, but I give you my word, I’ll look into it. The members will be informed about the incidents, and I’ll reach out to our MC friends and see if they know something that can help me assess the situation. If the club is at fault, we’ll own it. If not, then we’ll make sure the MC world knows it.”
Lying sack of shit.
Lingering grumbles circulated around the room. The tension in the air was so thick, Tank could cut it with his knife.
“Let’s move on to the protection money.” Hammer looked to Cougar. “Is everyone paying?”
“Yeah. But Tank seems to have a thing with the sweet cheeks who owns the restaurant.”
Anger burned through him. Tank clenched his fists and sat rigid.
Hammer turned his attention to Tank. “Is what Cougar saying true?”
Fuming, Tank glowered.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes. What you do with that sweet piece can’t interfere with club busines. You’ll pick up the collections in Imperial Beach instead of Main Street.”
A satisfied smirk curved the corners of Cougar’s mouth.
“Has anybody moved out yet?” Hammer asked.
“Except for the dry cleaner, the other tenants are holding strong,” Cougar told him.
A frown etched into Hammer’s face. “Fitzgerald’s not gonna like that. We’ll charge more.”
Rubble laughed. “Or we could do more fire displays like at the dry cleaners.”
“Breaking windows works—those are right at the deductible, so the vendors feel the financial pinch,” Tugboat said.
Hammer nodded. “That would work. Sheriff Windsor’s in Fitzgerald’s pocket, so we won’t have any trouble there. We need to do whatever it takes.”
“After they leave, Fitzgerald’s got a multimillion dollar property, and we’ve got shit,” Fire noted. “He’s paying us ten percent, but the protection money is ongoing.”
Cougar nodded. “That’s why we’re spreading out. We’ve setup shop in Imperial Beach, and there’ll be others to follow.”
The only ones discussing the extortion deal with Hammer and Cougar were the VP’s allies, while the other members sat there, their features tight. It took all of Tank’s willpower not to hurl a chair at Hammer when he talked about Lena, Gus, and the other citizen business owners.
“I can’t wait to take these fuckers down,” Maniac whispered to Tank.
“Yeah.”
The rest of church was a blur, since Tank’s mind was only on Lena. I’m not gonna let them take another dim
e from her. I’m putting a stop to it. And the way Cougar had gone on about the sexy restaurant owner, he knew it was only a matter of time before the slimebag tried something with her. That thought caused a white-hot burn deep in the pit of his stomach.
The gavel hitting the table brought Tank back to the moment. Metal chairs scraping against the floor, footsteps shuffling, and voices murmuring bounced off the concrete walls as the members filed out of the room.
“You gonna stay for a beer?” Maniac asked.
Tank nodded. “Yeah. Church blew.”
“Don’t get me started.”
They walked into the main area and went over to the bar. The prospect had two bottles of craft beer on the counter in a flash. Tank picked his up and took a deep swallow.
“Was Cougar talking out of his ass about the restaurant owner?” Maniac asked, bringing the bottle to his lips.
“He’s an asshole.” Tank put a foot on the rail and leaned against the bar top.
“So there’s nothing? I mean, you’ve been scarce around here, and a no-go with the club girls. That’s not like you.”
“My mom’s sick.”
“She was sick a few months ago.”
Cougar sauntered over to the bar with a club girl in tow. Picking up a shot of Jack, he threw it back, then kissed the girl while rubbing against her.
The anger burning through Tank during church hadn’t dissipated. He drained his beer and put it on the counter.
“I’ll be back,” he told Maniac. “There’s something I gotta do.”
Tank walked over to Cougar and pulled him away from the startled woman.
“What the—”
Cutting off Cougar’s sentence, Tank’s balled fist collided with his jaw, knocking his head back like a willow caught in the wind.
He stumbled backward, grabbing his jaw. “What the fuck?” he yelled as he regained his balance. “You goddamn asshole.” A vicious ferocity radiated through Cougar’s dark eyes. He lunged forward and connected a quick jab to Tank’s jaw before battering him with both fists. Tank shoved him away, smashed a left to Cougar’s head, and then a right. As Cougar tried to evade the next punch, Tank jumped, spun around, and kicked him in the side of his head. Cougar collapsed to the floor.
From the corner of his eye, Tank saw the members gathering. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and took the shot of bourbon Ice handed him.
The club girl knelt down beside Cougar and wiped his bloody face with a damp washcloth.
“Oh, baby,” she cooed.
Ice laughed. “Molly better look for another member to have fun with tonight.”
Tank downed the drink, wincing as the bit of alcohol came in contact with his split lip.
Maniac gripped Tank’s shoulder. “Yeah, you got something going with the restaurant chick.” That made Tank laugh. “But the SOB’s had it coming for a while. You gotta show me how to do that kick.”
“Twenty-one years of Taekwondo will do it. I’ve shown you some of the beginning moves before.”
“I keep forgetting to use them. I’m better with my fists.”
“What the fuck happened?” Hammer growled as he marched toward Tank and his friends.
None of the brothers said a word.
Hammer looked at Molly. “What happened?”
She darted her eyes back and forth from the members to Tank, her brows knitted in a frown.
“Speak up, slut,” Hammer snapped.
Molly shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You didn’t see who Cougar was fighting with?”
“No. I was at the bar,” she mumbled.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s just a brother fighting another over shit. That’s the way it is,” Ice said.
“Yeah. You’ve had plenty of fights, so what’s the big deal?” Grid asked.
Hammer nodded. “You’re right. This isn’t my business.” Turning, he walked away.
Molly hovered over Cougar, who started to stir. She laid her head on his chest. “Baby, I was so worried.”
Tank turned to Ice and Maniac. “I’m outta here. We’ll meet up later this week.”
Maniac gave him a questioning look. “Have you talked to him?”
“Yeah. He agrees with the interim president. He’s coming back from L.A. sometime this week,” Tank replied.
Ice asked in a low voice, “The treatments?”
“Yeah.” Tank pulled the keys to his bike out of his pocket. “I’ll be in touch.” Bumping fists with his two buddies, he walked out of the clubhouse.
After stopping by his apartment to change his bloodied T-shirt and jeans, Tank pulled up in front of Sterling Rose Florist.
The sweet scent of flowers filled the shop. Tank hadn’t been in the store since his mother’s birthday the year before. She loved any kind of flowers, so when he’d started working in high school, he’d made it a point to save some money to buy an arrangement for her on her birthday. The gift had made her cry—in a good way. And ever since then, he’d bought her flowers for every year for her birthday. He’d never bought them for any of the women he’d known, not even Trish, but she’d never been the flower type of girl. When they went to their senior prom, she’d told him not to buy her a wrist corsage, but to buy her a box of fancy chocolates at See’s Candies instead.
“May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.
“Yeah. I’m here to buy my… uh… a friend some flowers.”
The woman beamed. “That’s so nice of you. Women love flowers. Even when they say they don’t, they do.”
The image of Trish tossing the wildflowers he’d picked for her into the trashcan flashed through his mind. It was during a weekend biking trip to the Santa Ynez Mountains in the early part of their marriage.
“Yeah, right.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Maybe a thinking of you occasion?”
Tank had no idea he’d have to answer fifty question just to get a damn bouquet.
“Or a just because?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s an I screwed the fuck up occasion.”
The bright smile on the woman’s face morphed into a frown. “So you had an argument, and you want to say you’re sorry, right?”
“You got it, lady.”
She pursed her lips and opened a three-ring notebook filled with photographs of floral arrangements. “Roses are your best bet,” she said sourly.
“I want something with them. Let me see the book.”
“Please,” she huffed, turning it toward him.
“Please what?”
With a slight shake of her head, she replied, “Never mind.” She pointed to a table in the corner of the shop. “You can look at it over there, then come back here to place your order.”
“Cool.”
Fifteen minutes later, he’d found the perfect arrangement for Lena. It was simple, but elegant, with a tinge of romance running through it. He hoped she’d understand that sending her flowers was huge for him, and it meant he cared deeply for her.
He placed the notebook on the counter. “I’m done.”
“Do you know which one you want?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m at the counter.”
“Just making conversation,” she muttered. “Which arrangement did you choose?”
Tank opened the book to the photograph that had a glass vase with five long-stemmed red roses, an oriental lily, fresh foliage, and lily grass. He tapped the photo with his index finger. “That one.”
A smile spread across her face. “Oh, that’s beautiful. I’m sure she’ll love it, and it’ll get you out of the dog house.”
“I want to send it to her business.”
“Good thinking. It’s always such a lovely surprise to get a beautiful bouquet at work.” She turned to the computer. “Would you like to add any extras, like a stuffed bear, a mylar balloon, or a box of specialty chocolates?”
“The chocolates sound g
ood.” I need all the fuckin’ help I can get.
“Perfect. She’s a lucky lady to have such a thoughtful man. Now, let’s create an order ticket.”
A while later, Tank was on his Harley, headed out to soak in the view of the coastline while devouring a plate of fish tacos and a cold beer. As he rode toward the harbor, he missed Lena pressed against his back. He missed her laugh, her sassy comebacks, and their conversations. He also missed the way her eyes sparkled when she created a new recipe, the way she smelled, her kisses… he missed everything about her.
Gripping the handlebars, he increased his speed and let the roar of the engine drown out his thoughts.
Two days after Tank had sent the flowers to Lena, he still hadn’t heard from her. A part of him wanted to say “Fuck it,” but something deep down inside of him didn’t want that. Lena was the only woman who satisfied him in a way no other woman ever had, or ever could, and he didn’t want her to slip away. Plus, it didn’t help that his mother kept prodding him to keep working to win her back.
He wasn’t the kind of man who pursued a woman after a certain point, but with Lena, everything he did with her was a first. The fact that he could understand where she was coming from helped to keep his temper and impatience at bay. He knew he’d lost her trust that night he came in to collect the money, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back, but he had to try. If she never came around, then he’d leave her in peace and move on. But he wasn’t at that point just yet.
Trust was big in his outlaw world. It was the foundation upon which the Jagged Outlaws and other one-percenter MC clubs were based, and that was what made the current situation with Hammer so distasteful. At the end of the day, the Jagged Outlaws were going head-to-head with their own brothers. The trust they’d had in some of the members had been destroyed, and it would take a long time, if ever, to get it back.
Tank saw the irony with the problems in his biker life paralleled to the ones in his personal one. Trust took a long time to build and nurture, but it could be destroyed in a heartbeat.
The ping from his phone drew his attention. His breath caught in his chest when he clicked open the text, then released it when he saw it wasn’t from her.