“You sayin’ we should get out completely?” Beast’s tone is flat. I don’t know how to take it.
But fuck it, in for a penny, in for a goddamn pound.
“The hard drugs?” I pause. “Yeah. I think we should.”
“What about the rest of it? Guns? Weed?”
I shrug. “Maybe we pull back from the drugs first,” I say, thinking out loud. “Use the profits to start buying more legit businesses. Shit we can grow out in the open. Build on.”
No one else is saying anything. But around the circle, I see a nod or two.
“This is a lot to drop, Tank.” Ghost squints at me.
“Yeah. Just talkin’ out my ass, I guess. I been thinking about it, though.”
Hale clears his throat. “Tank’s got a point.”
“Alix wants to try for another kid,” Gunner admits, “but since Lug Nut got killed, she says she doesn’t want to bring another baby into the world who might grow up without a father.”
“Okay,” Angel growls, “this ain’t the time or the place to be making decisions about the club’s future.” He glances at Beast, who gives him a single nod. “But let’s bring it up in church. Hear what the rest of the men have to say.”
Driving home from the clubhouse later, I keep thinking about the past and the future. About building a future. Which, until a little girl got left on my doorstep and I met a fiery-tempered waitress with a saucy mouth, I never much even considered before.
I glance over at Cady in the passenger seat. She must sense my eyes on her, because she turns and gives me that beautiful smile of hers. She reaches for my hand, and I take hers and give it a squeeze.
“Hey,” she murmurs. “By the way, I started painting again.”
“At your apartment?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah. I went over there to grab some clean clothes and, well…” She gives me a small, embarrassed shrug. “I guess I just was in the mood.”
We haven’t talked about Cady moving in with me all the way, though I’ve been planning to ask her. If she’s painting again, we’re gonna need to figure out a place for her to do that. Maybe I can build her a separate artist’s studio in the back yard. With lots of light and space. And a view of Wren’s swing set.
“Can’t wait to see what you’re working on,” I say, giving her a grin.
“You’ll have to,” she winks back. “No peeking until it’s finished.”
Wren is zonked out by the time we get home, so I carry her inside and put her to bed. Cady puts the leftovers from the cookout in the fridge. When I come out to the living room, Cady is sitting on the couch with a glass of water, looking tired and lost in thought.
I grab a beer from the kitchen and come sit down beside her. “Give me your feet.”
“What?”
“Feet,” I order. “You’ve been on ‘em all day. They deserve a massage.”
“Not sure what I’ve done to deserve this,” she murmurs, but she does what I say. She sits back and closes her eyes, letting out little whimpers of pleasure as I work on her.
“Oh my God, that’s almost as good as sex,” she groans. “That feels so good.”
“Consider it foreplay,” I rumble.
“You promise?” she retorts, opening one eye. I let out a laugh.
“You were great today,” I tell her, switching feet. “You fit right in with the old ladies.”
“It was nice to see Wren so happy,” she yawns.
“You really love her, don’t you?” I ask.
I know the answer is yes. But what I don’t expect is the way her lip trembles at the question.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I do.”
“Cady, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She shakes her head and sits up, wiping her eyes. “Long day, I guess. I just… it’s never very far from my thoughts, you know? That poor little girl, in that horrible basement… How scared she was, and how I couldn’t do anything to protect her.”
I know Cady still holds so much guilt from her past. From how her little sister died, to losing her own baby through miscarriage. But it’s only now, sitting here with her, that I put two and two together.
She doesn’t see that she was doing everything she could to save Wren. She thinks she was about to fail her.
“Stop that,” I say, a little too harshly. Cady looks up at me, and I curse under my breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you. But Cady, you did protect her. I have no doubt that you would have done whatever it took to save her from Demon.”
“I don’t know what I could have done,” she whispers.
“You would have thought of something,” I tell her. “I know you would have. Cady, you’re more of a mother to Wren than the mother she was born to. You know that, don’t you?”
She stares down at her hands.
“Biology be damned, you’re the best mother Wren could ever have. Biology in this case don’t mean shit. It’s about love. And I know you love that little girl more than anything. Don’t you?” I say again, more fiercely this time. I need her to admit this to herself.
Cady sucks in a ragged breath. “Yes.”
“It’s not about blood. It’s about love. Hell, at this point, I don’t even care whether Wren is related to me. I’m her father. She’s mine.” I jab my thumb into my chest. “And she’s yours, too. Mothers — real mothers — protect their kids no matter what. That’s what you do. That’s who you are to Wren. She needs you.” I pause. “And I need you. Maybe more than she does.”
Cady swallows. “But…”
“And before you start tryin’ to tell me how you failed Wren again,” I interrupt her, “which is bullshit, by the way — I’m talking about me now. I need you, Cady. And it’s not just because you don’t put up with my bullshit. Or because you know how to put me in my place when I need to hear a hard truth. Or because you’re smart, and sassy, and you look fucking hotter than sin in a pair of jeans, and even better out of them.”
She lets out a weak laugh, but she’s listening, thank God. So I keep going. I pour it all out. Like it’s my last day on earth and she needs to know everything I’d want to tell her before I died.
“I’m not a praying man,” I continue. “And I can’t say I’ve ever believed in fate. But every time I think about walking into the Downtown Diner that day with Wren, something twists in my gut. And I think it’s gratitude. Gratitude that someone or something put me on that path to you that day. You pissed me right the hell off with your attitude, you know that?” I chuckle. “But it was something else that was makin’ me mad, too. I think something deep down inside me was telling me, even that first day, that you were it for me. But I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
“You were a plain jackass that day,” Cady chuckles, the clouds in her eyes clearing. “But you were sexy as hell, too. I hated that I was attracted to you.”
“I could feel the heat between us. I knew you could, too. If I hadn’t had Wren with me, I probably would have made a play for you.”
“And I probably would have turned you down, on the principle that you were too cocky for me to give you what you wanted. No matter how much I wanted it, too.”
“You’re stubborn, all right.” I shift closer to Cady, and then she’s in my arms. “Cady, I need you in my life. For me. I don’t fuckin’ feel complete without you anymore. Plus, this whole fatherhood thing… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’ll fuck it up. I need you to help me figure this thing out.”
Her face darkens at the mention of Wren.
“What if Jess comes back for her?” she whispers.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But the fact is, Wren needs you. We need you. You’re part of us both.” I take a deep breath. “We’re not a family without you.”
Cady’s mouth finds mine. We lose ourselves in the moment, and soon, our bodies take over the conversation.
“Tank,” Cady moans as my hand slips between her thighs. “Take me to bed.”
&
nbsp; She doesn’t haver to ask me twice. I take her to the bedroom — our bedroom — and flip the lock on the door.
“You’re it for me, you know that?” I groan as I slide my length inside her.
“Tank,” she gasps. “Oh my God. How is this always so good?”
“It only gets better, babe. With you, it only gets better.”
I fuck her hard and deep, just like she likes it. Her arms brace her against the headboard and I tease her clit with my thumb until she arches her back and convulses around my cock. I come with my tongue in her mouth and her legs flung over my shoulders, buried so deep inside her I forget every name in the world except hers.
And that’s how it starts: our official life together.
Me, fucking the love of my life until we pass out in each other’s arms.
Our daughter, safe and sound, sleeping in the next room.
In the shadow of everything each of us has lost in our lives, somehow we all made it through to the other side. With each other.
Together, we gained a family.
Epilogue
Cady
“Coming through!” Tank says as he hefts the large canvas down the hallway of the Valley View Retirement Home.
The painting isn’t heavy, but it’s cumbersome, and he has to dodge people using walkers and in wheelchairs as he goes. A few curious residents peer at it, trying to see the painting itself, but it’s been carefully wrapped in butcher paper so it won’t get damaged on the way to its new home.
Next to me, Wren carries a smaller one, eight by ten inches. She hefts it proudly, seriously, like the aspiring painter I think she might just be.
When I told Wren what I was painting, and who I was painting it for, she got so excited she couldn’t wait to do one, too. So, I gave her the same charge that Daniel gave me, months ago.
Paint me a picture of your happiness.
When Uncle Daniel asked me to do this for him, I couldn’t figure out what that vision of happiness looked like. Or maybe I did know, but I didn’t want to admit to myself how much I wanted it.
But now I can.
Uncle Daniel’s door is cracked open, just as it usually is when he knows I’m coming for a visit. I do my standard knock, then push inside, holding the door open so that Tank can maneuver the large canvas. He sets it down against a wall and then straightens, preparing to meet the only remaining relative I have who feels like family to me.
“Tank Barrigan. Nice to meet you,” Tank says, holding his large hand out to shake Daniel’s frail one. I hold my breath for a second, just a tiny bit afraid that Tank will shake too hard.
Daniel introduces himself as “Cady’s favorite uncle,” which would be true even if he wasn’t my only one.
Tank lifts Wren up to give Daniel a kiss on the cheek, but she squirms out of his grasp as soon as she can, obviously more interested in something else. She shoves her own painting into my hands and runs toward the bookshelf where her origami crane still sits.
“My bird is here!” she cries.
Daniel tells her she can play with it as long as she’s careful.
“So you’re the man who stole my favorite girl’s heart,” Daniel chuckles, turning back to Tank. “Not quite what I expected, to be honest.”
Now it’s Tank’s turn to laugh. “You weren’t lookin’ for Cady to hook up with a long-haired biker?” he asks.
“No,” Daniel admits. “But no judgment, I assure you. The heart wants what it wants. Believe me, I know that. All I care is that you make her happy.”
“He does,” I chime in, smiling at Tank as he wraps an arm tight around me.
“It’s my main mission in life,” Tank tells him. “I can’t have her getting tired of me, after all.”
Uncle Daniel and I sit down at his table by the window while Tank gets to work hanging the two paintings on the wall where Daniel wants them. As it turns out, Wren and I ended up painting remarkably similar subjects. I wouldn’t say our artistic styles are the same, but apparently, our ideas of happiness are. My larger canvas is done in acrylics, and features Wren herself front and center, laughing as she dances toward the viewer. Behind her on either side, Tank and I stand, hand in hand.
Wren’s is a watercolor. It’s a house, with herself, Tank, and me standing in the front yard. Oh, and Snoopy. Not the stuffed animal Snoopy, but our one-hundred-twenty-pound black Newfoundland hound. How a giant dog like him ended up in our lives is a story in itself, but the short version is, Tank wanted Wren to have a dog for protection and companionship. The fact that he weighs more than three of Wren notwithstanding, he’s already become her very best friend in the world. Just as in real life, the Snoopy in the painting stands right beside her, faithful and devoted as ever.
“Lovely,” Daniel smiles as Tank finishes hanging the larger canvas. “Just lovely. And I don’t just mean the painting. I’m happy for you, Cady. I can tell this is what you want.”
Just then, there’s another knock on Daniel’s door. We all look over as a man a little younger than Daniel, obviously a resident, pokes his head in the door.
“Danny, here’s that book you… oh!” The man breaks off abruptly when he sees Daniel isn’t alone. “I’m so sorry,” he says, reddening. He’s holding a book, the cover of which he suddenly seems to want to hide. He’s well-dressed, with white hair and a nicely-trimmed beard.
“This is Tray,” Daniel tells us, without getting up. “Tray, I’ll come by and get that book from you a little later, okay?”
“Yes, sure. Sorry to bother!” Tray backs up and slips out the door, closing it behind him. I turn back to Daniel.
“Tray’s… a new resident,” Daniel says reddening. “He’s lending me a book he told me about.”
I have no idea why Daniel seems so nervous all of a sudden.
Unless…
“How’s that?” Tank asks. He’s finished hanging Wren’s painting. Daniel declares it’s perfect. “Exactly how I was hoping it would look,” he declares. “Thank you, Tank. And thank you, Cady and Wren, for being such wonderful artists.”
“You’re welcome!” sings Wren.
“Speaking of which,” I say, “I need to stop by Rose’s office and finalize a few details about the class. Tell you what, I’ll run down and do that real quick. Tank, can you and Wren keep Daniel company until I get back?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I’ve decided to take the nursing home manager up on her offer to have me teach a painting class for seniors. Rose has warned me twice now that she can’t pay much, but I don’t mind. I’m actually looking forward to it. It’s teaching something that I love, and hopefully making some people’s days a little brighter. And who knows? Maybe if I do well enough, I can start teaching art classes at other nursing homes. Or maybe community ed, or something else. All I know is, it’s a beginning.
And sometimes, beginnings lead you to places you never even knew existed.
When I come back from talking to Rose, the three of us stay to chat with Daniel for a little while longer. Eventually, I look at the clock and tell Tank it’s time to go. We’re dropping Wren off for a play date at Alix and Gunner’s, and then we’ve got an appointment to see a lawyer. I’m finally going to have divorce papers drawn up and sent to my ex. And Tank and I want to find out how solid his custody rights are to Wren, and what it would take for me to eventually try to adopt her.
Daniel kisses me, hugs Wren, and shakes Tank’s hand. Then the three of us leave the nursing home together. Wren runs in front of us and waves good-bye to all the residents as she passes, as we bring up the rear, laughing at her and holding hands.
Just like in the painting.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading Tank and Cady (and Wren’s!) story! I hope it touched your heart like it did mine.
There are two more books coming in the Lords of Carnage MC series: STRIKER will be out later this summer, and JUDE is last!
Want to be the first to find out when they’ll be releasing?
&
nbsp; Click here to join my mailing list!
Thank you so much! - Daphne
Daphne Talks Out Her Ass About Tank
Tank and Cady’s book was a long time coming.
I had the idea for a “surprise single dad” book for a while, and I knew it was going to be Tank. I had the first couple of chapters in my head, and I knew some of their back story.
And then, life happened.
First, a bunch of stuff with my husband’s parents, who are both getting on in years. My father-in-law, specifically, had a bunch of health problems, and that was taking up a lot of our energy and time.
Then, in February, I got pretty sick. So did Mr. Loveling. It took both of us out for a couple of weeks, and it wasn’t like anything I’ve had before. I’m not sure what it was — I guess I won’t speculate — but it made it impossible to write for most of that month.
Then, we went on a trip to London in early March… and that was when the coronavirus pandemic really started to ramp up. We came back from our trip and hunkered down in self-quarantine.
Naively, I thought, “Well, hey! Silver lining is, I bet I’ll be writing like twice as much as I usually do!”
I think we can all just laugh about that in hindsight, can’t we?
All that to say, Tank and Cady’s story fought with me to see the light of day. But now that they’re here, I’m so happy for you to know them. And Wren, too, of course!
It’s funny how your life will subconsciously seep into the books you write. At least, that’s been the case for me. And often, those connections don’t become clear to me until well after I’ve written the book.
In this case, I think somehow this period of isolation has made me especially aware of the importance of the people I love and rely on. My family — but not only the one I was born into. Sometimes, family is the people you choose. Or the ones who choose you.
TANK: Lords of Carnage MC Page 21