“Go the Fuck Away!” Tank grunted.
“Get up, Mother Fuck and meet me in Church,” Tuck ordered. “You have five minutes, or I’m coming in there to get your ass.”
Tank knew Tuck wasn’t bluffing. Shit, he didn’t even have time for a shower. Grabbing his discarded clothes, he put them on walking toward the door. What the hell happened now? Shit, had he done more than he remembered last night? After Reagan left, he let loose more than he had since high school. Tank was a control freak most day, but last night had been too much, he’d needed to wipe the events of the night from his mind and drinking enough booze helped that process.
This next day shit was his punishment for going against his own rules. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like ass, and his stomach was churning. He hoped whatever Tuck had planned wasn’t going to take long because Tank really didn’t know how long he would be able to make it before he puked his guts out. Shit, he should have known better, done better, but that was the story of his life.
When Tank finally made it to Church, he was surprised that no one other than Tuck was present. This shit didn’t happen. Fuck what had he done last night?
“Listen up, asshole, I let that shit you have been pulling on Reagan go on way too long. We don’t mistreat the woman of RBMC, puppets, hanger-on’s or Old Ladies, and you, motherfucker, treated Reagan like trash. I watched you humiliate her over and over again, and that shit is done.”
Tank wanted to say it wasn’t like that, but the truth was it really was like that, he treated Reagan like trash every chance he got. Tank had this need to punish her, hell, he didn’t even know why he did it most times. Reagan had always been sweet. He was just so pissed off at her. He’d let her go so that his taint wouldn’t affect her and what does she do? Come back ten years later to become a Club Whore. None of it computed in his brain.
“Listen up, Reagan is gone, you did exactly what you set out to do. You should be pretty proud of yourself.”
Tank was anything but proud. A part of him wanted to run after her and bring her back, but another more prominent part of him wanted her out there in the real world living her life. Having everything he couldn’t give her.
“Dude, I don’t know what to say, that shit is for the best.”
“Really, you think so? Let me tell you a story. Reagan came to me six months ago and asked me to get her sister out of Dodge.”
“What, Lexie, she’s what four? Why? I mean I know the family is shit, but was it really all that bad?”
“Yeah, Lexie. What other sister does she have? Stop interrupting me, asshole. So, where was I? Yeah, she asked me to get Lexie out of town and into a good family. Reagan said she overheard some stuff and was scared for her sister. It seems her scumbag family decided to sell the little girl. Anyway, I offer to send her away, too, but Reagan refused, saying she needed to stay in town for a bit longer because she had also heard the same people who wanted Lexie had some shit on your ass.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about Tuck? There isn’t anything anybody could have on me except this club, and we both know that shit is locked up tight. My only other transgression was almost killing George, and that shit was all over the papers.”
“See, that’s what I thought too, but she was able to convince me I needed to wait it out, so she could get the information she needed to, as she put it, free your ass. She needed a safe place to do whatever the fuck she was doing, so Reagan asked if she could stay at the Club.”
“I didn’t like that either, so I decided that I would make her a Puppet in name only and claim her for myself. That way she could do what she needed, but also be safe. Then you decided to fuck that plan up and claim her ass before I could even get the words out.”
“She wasn’t yours to claim goddamn it, Reagan is mine. You should have kept your hands off of her. I claimed the bitch as my puppet and every goddamn day, you were there, calling her into your office. What’s up with that Brother,” Tank sneered.
“Shut the fuck up, asshole, she isn’t yours and never has been. Even if you had a chance, you blew that shit to hell last night. Plus, I never laid a hand on her; I made her meet with me every day to tell me how she was coming with the information and what else was going on. Did you ever once look beyond that beautiful face and see the that girl is a genius?”
“Get to your point, Tuck.”
Tank was feeling sicker by the second. Damn, he was an ass. All those time he thought Reagan was giving it out to Tuck in his office, she wasn’t. Hell, the things he said to her constantly. He had been so cruel, telling her if she wanted to be a whore, he would make her one, and all the other things. Damn, he was a Ruthless Bastard through and through.
Chapter 5
“Okay, asshole. For the next hour, you are going to sit in this room and read everything Reagan has laid out for you.” Tuck said tapping a thick envelope. “Once you have read everything, the two of us are going to talk and figure out our next step. What you aren’t going to do is go off half-cocked and try to leave because let me tell you, the shit in this envelope is going to destroy everything you thought was true and some of the people who you thought cared about your ugly ass.” Tuck got up, put the envelope in front of him, and walked to the door, but before he left he said, “I have three Prospects at the door and Blade is watching from the bar. Do what I said and don't even try to leave this room or you and I will have problems. You read every word in there until you can recite it back to me, understand?”
Tank didn’t like being treated like a child, but he guessed he deserved it, and the pounding in his head and his churning stomach were preventing him from putting up a fight, right now.
“Understood Prez, I sit here like a good little boy and do my homework.”
When the door slammed, it made Tank wince, damn, that fucking hurt. He tapped the envelope with his finger, not really wanting to open it. What the hell could Reagan have been up to and why wouldn’t she have told him herself. It took him a good couple of minutes to open it up. The first thing he found was a handwritten letter.
Dear Brayden,
You might be wondering why I started this letter with your given name, well, the answer is simple; Brayden was always nice to me. He never once made me feel like trash, and he always respected my feelings, dreams, and achievements. Tank, on the other hand, is a man that I have learned likes to hurt people, well not people, that honor seems to only be for me. Mind you, I know you would never hurt me physically, but the damage you have caused in the last six months is monumental.
That being said, I couldn’t let you go on thinking that night over ten years ago that ruined both our lives was your fault. It wasn’t Brayden, you were set up. I knew if I didn’t have all the pieces to that puzzle, you would never take me at my word, so I made a deal with Tuck. That leads us to now. What you are going to find in here is going to hurt you, and I wish I weren't the one to do it, but I couldn’t leave this to anyone else.
You will always be that boy to me, the one who promised me the world and made me believe I could do and be anything. That the people who gave birth to me didn’t matter as long as I was a good person. Remember that now more than ever. I want you to be happy, and I want you to get a little of the Brayden I knew and loved back.
I won’t be around anymore for you to take out your anger and pain on. Please find it in your heart to forgive yourself and live.
Love Always, Reagan.
The next page was a picture, and it made Tank loose the contents of his stomach. Shit, the fucking accident that ruined four lives, the day he lost everything, his future, his girl, and his best friend. Hell, what was she up to?
The next page was a prescription for his father; it was some kind of narcotic he had heard of it before, but couldn’t figure out why his old man would have needed it. The next page showed a toxicology report on him on the night of the accident with the drug in his system. Hell, to this day, he didn’t take anything stronger than aspirin. He didn’t do well w
ith drugs, and he knew damn well he hadn’t taken anything that day. He was just supposed to drop George and Grace off, then go and pick up Reagan. He wasn’t even drunk, having only drunk one beer with his Dad in celebration of his victory over the Devils at the homecoming game.
As the pages turned, he found more and more damning information. A money trail from the mechanic who had worked on his car at his Dad’s insistence when it hadn’t needed anything because it was brand new. Huge sums of money going to Grace and George’s families dated months before the accident. What the hell was that about? Fuck what was all this?
When he came to the end of the pile, he found another letter from Reagan, only this one was typed.
Brayden,
You never did what you thought, the accident wasn’t your fault. Six months ago, I overheard a conversation between your father and two other people. He insisted that soon you would be back in the fold. That they wanted you to join and possibly lead their fucked-up Club. I’m not going to go into that because you will find out soon enough what it all entails. I followed your father to a storage locker, and for the last six months, I have been going through it all.
The accident which changed you happened because your father wanted it to happen. I don’t know why, but I know it’s true. He drugged you, had your car tampered with, and paid off the victims. He also paid off the police, hospital staff, and anyone else who might have clued you in to the real cause.
I talked to George’s mom, and she is willing to talk to you; please do it, and she knows things that I don’t. I didn’t ask her, only told her I knew the truth and you might be contacting her. Please, you need to let this go before anything else happens.
Your Dad isn’t who you think he is. He is an evil man. I’m not telling you this for any other reason than you need to know, and you also needed this proof, so that you can protect yourself. Don’t let them suck you in, you’re better than that. Live your life like you always dreamed, free and happy,
Reagan.
Tank looked though the papers again, and by the third time, he was getting more and more pissed. Shit, who the hell did this stuff to their own fucking kid and why? That was the biggest question. Why the hell had his own father tried to destroy him? What fucking Club was Reagan talking about? The only Club his father was a member of was the Country Club and no way in hell would he ever step foot in that place again.
Fuck. Standing up quickly, he shoved the chair back. When it thudded into the wall, Tank decided he like that, so he started throwing and smashing other stuff. Why the hell would his old man of done any of this shit? It had to be a lie. There was no fucking way. But shit, she laid it out, everything was there, returned checks, wire transfers, all with Jeremy Taylor's signature on them.
There had to be another explanation, maybe George and Grace’s family blackmailed his old man. That made more sense, the Taylors were wealthy, and Tank had royally fucked up, but that didn’t explain the other pay offs. A tune-up in a car didn’t cost ten grand. Hospital stays were expensive, but you didn’t pay doctors and nurses directly.
Chapter 6
Tank was just getting ready to throw another chair when Tuck walked in.
“See you read it all.”
“You believe this shit?”
“Yeah, man, I do. She has all the information and can back up every word. Reagan gave it all to me before she left last night. She wanted you safe. That right there is your ticket, what are you going to do about it?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it, Tuck? I mean, this shit,” Tank said, indicating the papers on the table, “changes everything. Everything I thought was true was a fucking lie. How do I live and move on from that? Hell, what the fuck am I even supposed to do with it?”
“Live your life without all this shit hanging over your head, brother, that’s what she wanted, and that’s what she gave you. But brother, that right there, that’s only a small portion. Reagan had more, and man, if you can’t get your head around that shit, this other stuff, fuck man, it’s bad.
“I’m not going to blindside you again man, but hell, I need to bring this shit to church. Your Dad, Potter, and Worthington are part of a trafficking ring right in our backyard. I knew about Worthington sick obsession, but I thought I’d scared the sick fuck enough for him to stop. Carrie found information on him years ago, and the RBMC shut him down. We couldn’t go to the authorities because he had something on Slade, but we watched him, and for years he kept his nose clean. I never knew about your Dad’s involvement or Potter’s. From what Reagan witnessed man, you’re not going to like it, but your old man, hell man, there’s video of him raping and killing girls as far back as twenty years.”
“What? No fucking way! I mean, I have a sister. He never touched Everly. I would have known. You can’t be serious.”
“Dude, I’m as serious as a fucking heart attack. Not only that, but the three of them seem to behind the shit with the Vultures. They’ve been paying them to keep us busy, but Reagan tracked the money trail, and although the payments come directly from them, it only goes out after they receive a hefty deposit from an anonymous wire transfer. Reagan has tracked it to the Caymans, but hasn’t been able to get any further.”
“The Vultures, you mean the same motherfuckers who broke through our security and had us all on our knees. Those Vultures? Tuck, shit, my Dad these other men are all golf club toting Country Clubbers, they wouldn’t be caught dead talking to the likes of anyone in the Vultures.”
“Tank, scum is scum, it doesn’t matter if it is wearing a three-piece suit or thrift store rejects. As for breaking our security, they had a little help; SlimJim and Flo never came back. Talon was able to reboot our system and pull up the back footage from the security cameras. SlimJim left the front gate open and the back door unlocked. The Vultures came in from the south side of the Clubhouse where the security camera had been directed so it was angled away, making a blind spot. Best we can figure out, SlimJim had to have done it on his rounds yesterday morning. Creed was supposed to be with him, but he had bailed because of family emergency. I think Reagan wanting to go to the store was the opening he was waiting for.”
Tank opened and closed his hands several times, making a fist. This shit just added to his mood. Two people they trusted and had vetted had betrayed them in the worst possible way. For what money? That was bullshit. The Club and Brothers should have meant more to them than that. How could they have been so blind?
“Have you found them yet?”
“No, they’re in the wind, but Talon and Jinx are looking. If they can be found, and they will be, we will get retribution from both of them.”
“Where is she? I need to talk to Reagan. I can’t believe you let her do this shit. What if they find out and try to get her or damn her sister? Fuck, man, you said, oh hell, that girl is only four. What the hell did they want? Oh, God, please tell me these fuckers aren’t into little girls. She’s just a baby, man.”
“I can’t tell you that, I wish I could. Man, the stuff Reagan found is bad; once we turn it over, Potter and your Dad will be going down. You need to wrap your head around that. As for Reagan, she’s gone. Left this morning, said she had a plan to stay out of sight, and I couldn’t stop her.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t stop her? She’s what, five foot nothing, maybe a hundred fucking pounds? What the hell, Tuck? They could get her, she’s out there all alone. How could you do that?”
“I said I couldn’t stop her, doesn’t mean I let her go without someone following. Rea’s a part of RBMC, I won’t turn my back on her.”
“Go get cleaned up. I’ll have one of the Prospect clean up the room. Church in twenty.”
Tank left and went to his room, but before he showered he needed to do something. Picking up his phone, he dialed Reagan’s phone. When she didn’t pick up, he left a voice message.
“Rea call me back, we need to talk.”
Taking the phone into the bathroom with him, he showered. Damn
it, she hadn’t called him. He called her phone again.
“Rea, this is Brayden. Call me back as soon as you get this message. We need to talk.” That’s how it went for most of the day.
Tank went to church and listened as Tuck laid it all out on the line for him and his Brothers. Family secrets he hadn’t even known about were being revealed, and it sickened him, but the only thing he could think about right now was Reagan. He needed to talk to her, to apologize, to, hell, get her back here where he knew he could keep her safe. She just needed to pick up the damn phone.
The other thing he wanted to do was go and beat the shit out of his father. How could he? Why did he? The questions just kept on coming and the answers never reached him. The man had everything, a good job, more than enough money, a family who loved him. Shit, he was a pillar in the community. Tank kept on asking himself, how the hell hadn’t he known? This shit had been going on for decades, no one is that good at keeping secrets.
Tank wanted him to pay and to pay dearly. Putting him behind bars was the best way to make that happen. His old man would never make it in prison. Tank vowed to himself that he would talk to him one last time, with bars and chains between them. He would ask him why and then he would tell him what he thought of him. Until that day, he would let this shit fester because if he saw his Dad anytime soon, he didn’t know if he could stop from killing him, but that would be too quick, he needed to suffer, just like those girls.
Chapter 7
That was the last time, Reagan thought as she left the RBMC, no way was she going to put herself through that shit again. Part of her mission was complete, but she needed to get the last of the stuff in Mr. Taylor’s storage locker. After the attack on the Club and her brother finding her, she thought it was best to just chill for a bit and there was only one place she knew of she could stay completely off everyone’s radar.
Tank: Ruthless Bastards (RBMC Book 2) Page 4