by Nicole Snow
If I were a religious girl, I would've been scared. The club's devil symbols were everywhere, mixed with small skulls, scythes, and screaming eagles. The chain around his neck bounced when he moved his head, clanking his dog tags against raw tattooed muscle on his chest.
“You don't understand, babe. I'm damned grateful for everything you've done here today, but I need to get up and fight. I'm fucking useless laid up like this.”
“You want to help your club?” I said, forcing my eyes back to his, flushing like an embarrassed schoolgirl. “Then let me help you get well. The facts don't lie, Tank. You were shot twice and lost a lot of blood. You're too weak to go charging into battle. You can't run, can't ride, and can't shoot straight when it's taking all your energy just to sit up. You want to help your brothers? Then get well. Not just my opinion. I'm sure Maverick or Blaze would say the same thing.”
He gritted his teeth and lowered his face. Slowly, he nodded, accepting the grim reality.
I held my relief in my lungs. Thank God for small favors. Weakened or not, it would've been hell trying to hold his bulldozer body back if he tried to walk through that door.
My brow furrowed. The drive burning him to pieces surprised me.
I was just barely starting to understand this strange club life, but I could see a man hurting, torn up inside because he couldn't do his duty. I wanted to say something, wanted to reach out and soothe him.
Curling my fingers, I reached a tentative hand to his shoulder, and stopped halfway when the knock came at the door.
Crap. Perfect timing.
Maverick. The MC's President stepped inside, looked the room over, and asked me about Tank's condition. I quickly debriefed him. He was clearly on edge, hungry to strike back at the men who'd done this to Tank and still threatened a whole lot more.
“Listen, we got ourselves a situation. We've got to take the fight to the Grizzlies now, man down or not. If he's not ready to move out on his own, then I need you to move him. Tonight.” Maverick leaned against the wall.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Move him? Where?”
Tank looked up from the table and mumbled a few protests, insisting he could walk. Damn! Crazy, determined, and persistent. And I was supposed to drag this insane giant – where, exactly?
“Don't fucking trouble her, boss,” he grunted. “I got this. Just gimme a couple more hours and –“
“Bullshit. Listen to the lady, Tank. You've already done plenty for this club and landed yourself a quick dance in hell. All I want you to do is follow this nurse wherever she says. She's gonna keep your ass out of trouble while you rest.”
A cold realization prickled at my neck. I eyed Maverick, afraid to seize the question I kept chasing in my head.
Fuck it. Here goes.
“We both know he can't go to a hospital,” I said slowly. “You mean you want me to bring him...”
My words still failed me. For the first time since he'd appeared, bowed up and snapping orders like a good President should, Maverick smiled. Tank watched the whole time as Maverick closed in on me and nodded.
Home.
The single word out of Maverick's lips ripped me in half.
My home. That's where Tank was going to recuperate. I knew right then and there this was more than just a part time gig for ridiculous stacks of cash. No, now my whole stupid life would never be the same.
If only I could've known then how bitter, magnificent, and intense it was going to be having this sexy hulk at my side.
III: All Kinds of Damaged (Tank)
Laid out on her little sofa, I was stressed as all fuck. I'd been at Emma's place for more than a day, and I couldn't stop thinking about the attack.
Why didn't I see it coming? I survived a dozen hit and runs just like it on the road back in Afghanistan, courtesy of the Taliban, only to end up with hot lead going through my guts right here in Montana. Or damned close to them, anyway. Emma said I'd be laid out in a hospital or a body bag right now if the shit had really hit my stomach.
The girl claimed problems like that were beyond her abilities. Didn't believe it.
She worked fucking miracles, and nobody was gonna tell me otherwise. The girl was beautiful through and through: an hourglass blonde with tits and legs I would've carried right off if I found her in a bar, never believing for one minute she was a nurse – and a damned good one.
Beauty and brains. That was rare, especially when I'd spent my whole life hanging around army sluts and biker whores who were always missing one half of the equation.
The thing I didn't get was why the fuck she had so little to show for it. Near as I could tell, riding in Em's car with the rattling tailpipe and laying on her rumpled sofa, civilian life left a lot to be desired – especially money.
Nothing else explained it.
What was this talented, hot ass nurse doing in this shitty little house? What was she doing with me here, working for the club?
With her beautiful fucking looks and brains, she should've been in Paris or something, one of those specialty docs doing chin lifts and sucking out lard for rich assholes. And where the hell had she been before? If she wasn't homecoming queen before putting on her scrubs, it would've fooled my ass.
Loved her damned body, every sexy inch of it. When I walked her out to her car the first time I laid eyes on her, I didn't want to let go of that door and watch her drive away.
Fuck no. I wanted to climb inside that car, take her long blonde locks in my fucking fist, and smash her to the seat 'til my lips smothered hers. My cock raged like a bull when I thought about those sleek long legs wrapped around my waist while I rocked between them, thrusting deep as hell. And if I got my hands on those tits, that ass, that perfect pussy waiting where her thighs fused together...shit!
I'd be done. Over. All fucking over.
Hell, I already was, and it hadn't even started. I couldn't let it.
I couldn't get too close, even if my greedy cock had me by the throat, shrieking orders through my blood. If I did something so fucking stupid, Maverick would beat my ass. Blaze too. Hell, both brothers would probably take turns thumping my skull like a goddamned basketball, and I'd deserve every damned blow for scaring off this healer chick.
But damn, some things a man can't help. My horny, evil thoughts wouldn't do any harm if I kept them under lock and key.
After all, I was sick – not dead – and being cooped up here was turning into one bitch of a tease. Felt as guilty eating her hot ass up with my eyes whenever her back was turned as I felt about being laid out, away from the front lines with my brothers.
I should've been at the clubhouse or in the mountains helping poach bear patches off dead bodies. Not here, an overgrown burden on this host who made my cock pulse each time I looked at her.
“Tank? How're you feeling?” Emma came through the door, wearing the same bright smile I'd quickly learned was her trademark.
Didn't have a fucking clue how she stayed so upbeat through all this shit. All the brothers were starting to crack with the Grizzlies popping in and out, drawing blood and then disappearing like fucking ghosts.
I sat up, feeling the fire in my side. “Could use a few more pain pills. Or else a whole bottle of Jack.”
She laughed and shook her head. “The last thing you're doing under my care is mixing booze and drugs. You blow out your liver, you'll be here a whole lot longer, buddy.”
I nodded glumly. The girl wasn't wrong, even though I hated every fucking truth coming out of her pretty little mouth. Having those lips making different noises crushed against mine was way more appealing.
Pain pills and a big glass of water landed on the coffee table in front of me a minute later. I looked up and caught her staring at my chest again.
Shit, I'd be staring too if I had a dude right next to me who needed a shower this bad. “I get it. I fucking stink.”
Emma's face went white and she feverishly denied it. “No, it's not that bad. We'll clean you up this eveni
ng. You're lucky it's not summer.”
Why was she wearing so much red on those cheeks? If I had all my senses, I would've sworn she was into me, but I didn't trust a damned thing right now. Whenever I sat up and tried to focus, my brain wanted to slip back in the fog, threatening to go blank and numb when the fire bit.
The girl told me it would go away in a few more days. Fuck if those days could come soon enough.
“Where's your shower? I'm ready right now.” I stood up, way too slow for my liking.
Next thing I knew, Emma's little hands were on my chest, holding me up. That only made me stiffen up harder. Shit, I had to get control back. If I toppled over like a goddamned tree, the last thing I was gonna do was fall right on her.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Her eyes flashed angry, melting into a smirk of concern on her face. “If you're so damned determined to do this now, let me help. You can't shower alone. Not for a few more days. Too much risk of you falling or getting crap into those wounds before they close all the way.”
My jaw nearly hit the fucking floor. “What're you saying, babe? You mean you're gonna shower...with me?”
Her face went bright red. Must've been the wild laughter pouring out her lips heating up her blood. Whatever the hell I said, it sure caused her to giggle. No surprise, the girl had a great laugh, beautiful as the rest of her. I stood like a dummy listening, music to my ears after all the shit that went down the last couple days.
“We'll get you rinsed off good. Come on. There are more ways to clean a guy up than standing him in the shower.”
A few minutes later, she had a hot basin of soap and water ready next to me. I sat on the toilet, back turned, a throwback to boyhood.
Humiliating as shit. Hell, the nurses working for Uncle Sam didn't do this when I took a piece of shrapnel outside Kandahar...
“Hold still. Just take it easy, Tank.” Emma talked to me slowly, like she was trying to keep a skittish horse in line. “If anything seeps down near the bandages and starts to burn, you let me know.”
I didn't know shit. I was clenching my jaw 'til I thought my teeth were gonna pop, hating every second. A grown man should be able to clean himself, injuries be damned.
No need for this pretty thing to be running her hands and suds and a rag all over me. Except, much as I hated to admit it, it really wasn't half bad. I stopped flexing at every stroke and relaxed, my muscles going slack beneath her calm, smooth touch.
Having the hot water trickling down my back was nice. Didn't have a damned thing on her fingers, though, especially when she ran them right over the ink beneath my shoulders.
“What's this all about? What does it mean?” She poked gently, right in the middle of the ring of fire.
I had a whole maze sketched around my spine. The ink whorls were black flames that opened up near the middle, breaking up into stars surrounding an eagle with a pitchfork in his claws.
“Story of my life, babe. Skin's just a canvass. I did three tours for Uncle Sam. One in Kuwait, two in Afghanistan. That's what the eagle and the stars are for. Same as these tags.” I reached up and gave my chain a jerk.
“And the flames? The pitch forks?” She sounded uncertain.
“The rest of my life since discharge. My whole fucking future's right there. Only full patch members in this club get to wear symbols on their skin. I've got plenty, and I'm not done yet either. The club's the alpha and omega. Makes everything that happened before I was a prospect for the Devils seem like a dream. Don't know what's coming next, but I'll be there for my brothers, thick as blood. In this MC, you put everything on the line: life, limb, fortune. Fucking everything.”
She made a little sound like she was surprised.
What the fuck? Maybe she didn't think bikers were so deep, same as the other civilian assholes who thumbed their scorn at us on the road.
I was all soaped up, and she switched to rinsing me off before saying anything.
“I think I'm starting to see why these clubs are around in the first place.”
I turned a little and looked at her, reaching up to grasp her hand pressing the warm cloth to my neck. “You're gonna start to figure out a lot of things the longer you hang around, Em. Don't doubt it for a single second. Everybody under the MC's protection gets what they deserve. Same as any assholes dumb enough to cross us.”
A couple days passed in a haze. One day, I woke up feeling a hell of a lot better.
My brain didn't instantly try to black out when I hobbled to my feet. I seriously contemplated hitching a ride to the clubhouse and hopping on my bike, but the Prez or VP would beat my ass for sure if I showed up without Emma's clearance.
Later, I was glad I didn't go anywhere. Something was totally fucked up the second she walked through the door that night.
The usual sweet smile on her face was completely gone. I bolted up. First time since getting shot when I didn't want to flop back down and clear my head.
“What's going on, girl? Tell me.” I took a step forward. Didn't like the sharp wrinkles in her perfect face one bit.
“I screwed up, Tank. It's the supplies.”
“You mean the shit you used to fix me up?”
“No, everything I snuck out to help the club set up the infirmary. We took too much, too fast. My lead's onto us, and so is the administrator. There's going to be an investigation once she gives the go ahead.”
Fire shot through my brain, different from the raging pain. This inferno was just rage period.
“Christ! How do you know? Is somebody threatening you?”
I didn't care if it was just her job on the line. Bloodlust flowed to my fists, and my heart began to pound. If anybody fucked with Emma in any way, I'd slam their ass into the ground so hard they'd need metal hips to get up again.
“I'm one of the girls being looked at.” She looked down, shaking her pretty head. “Shit, Tank, what if I get fired? What if they take my license?”
Poor girl. She looked so fragile standing there, so fucking lost in heavy, dangerous seas she'd plunged into without understanding.
I stepped up, closing the distance between us. Only had one thing on my mind when my hands wrapped around her and pulled her close, shoving her face into my chest. Didn't have a clue where this was gonna lead, but one thing was clear: I wasn't gonna let her suffer for helping the club.
“Nobody can take away your skills, babe. If that happens, you'll be working for the MC full time. I'll hound Blaze and Maverick all goddamned day 'til you get what you need. And when things settle down and this shit with the Grizzlies blows over, you're not taking more risks like this. I'll drill it into the club's skull that we're getting drugs and tools elsewhere from now on. Not from your fucking job.”
She looked up at me, bright eyes flicking from side to side, trying to see if I was telling her the truth or just blowing smoke.
No way she couldn't have seen it.
I was dead set on protecting her. I'd do that for any girl with an ass like hers, but this girl saved my life too, so I owed her double. Fucking with her was fucking with the club, and when anybody did that, we broke their fucking dicks so the last thing on their minds was...you-know-what.
I smoothed my hands down her back again and again, trying to keep the fires beating through my veins in check. My cock was an ill mannered SOB, and he wanted to claim her right now. Good thing I was man enough to use my head.
When she stopped crying, I took a few steps back, reaching for my wallet. I pulled out a wrinkled fifty and pressed it into her hands.
“You're not making shit for dinner tonight, Em. Go buy something nice and bring it home. You know I'm not picky. Whatever it is, I'll eat it. Beautiful night out there. Get some fresh air.”
It took her another minute to gather herself. Then, smiling, she took off.
A short drive always set my stewing mind at ease, and I had a feeling it'd do the same for her too, even if her little two door didn't surround her in a Harley's soothing growl.
Now for the im
portant part. I'd given her a happy distraction and bought myself some time to think, to plan, to make sure her problem went away for good.
I waited until after dinner, a high end pizza and some fancy gelato, to make my move. Not exactly my standard grub, but it made her purr, and that was all I cared about.
The dinner helped, but it didn't fix a damn thing. No amount of food in her belly would totally mend the sadness coursing through her system. Emma turned in early, just like I thought.
When I was sure she was asleep, I walked into the kitchen, eyeing the list of contacts she had plastered to her fridge. My finger stopped on Linda Barrow, the boss she'd mentioned. Carefully, I opened the door and stepped outside.
The pain in my side didn't start to bitch until I got to the bus stop. It was a dull throb, hot and angry, like all my damned frustrations collected together in one spot. This shit wasn't gonna do anything for my temper when I reached my destination.
I had a good feel for this town since I'd arrived and done scouting duty for the club. It was only a ten minute ride to the neighborhood where the bitch putting the heat on Emma worked, conveniently behind the hospital, which towered over everything.
The neat house was all lit up. Good. I'd give her an hour or so to stick her head out before I went in.
Tonight, luck was on my side.
A woman in her fifties with faded blond hair stepped out on the porch for a smoke. I let her get in a few puffs before I showed myself.
Fuck, all the pain on the walk and the bumpy bus ride had been worth it. I could feel my devil tats grinning as her eyes bugged out. She was just like all the others my brothers and I met in the civilian world, too damned scared to do anything sensible like run or scream.
“You Linda?” I asked, stopping just behind the banister.
Took her a few seconds to process the question, to process me standing on her fucking doorstep. Too damned long, and my patience was in short supply. The lady's eyes bugged out. Looked like she'd seen Satan himself coming up from the ground.