Tank: Apaches MC

by Stephens, Olivia

  Her head shoots up as she holds on to the edges of the dresser under her. Her hair cascades down to my hand, as her back curves, and I grab on. My cock is still tired, still worn from the blowjob before, but it is craving her something fierce. I waste no time by easing her down to my cock, watching pleased as I fit into her tight pussy.

  “Hang on,” I command. “You had your fun earlier.” She falls towards the dresser, putting her entire weight on the furniture. I rock back and forth into her, taking in the view of her bare back, the scrunched up dress, and the gorgeous roundness of her ass bouncing with my fast strokes.

  I know I’m not going to last long, but I make sure every hit is accounted for. I want her to feel the same as I did just moments before when she took me on her knees. My cock takes over as I barrel down towards her neck. The scent of her slick, worked body holds me in a trance. My hands find hers, as she is practically pulling slivers off of the wood with her nails. They tighten up around my fingers as she lets out a long, guttural groan that shakes her entire body and travels to the length of my cock.

  I move forward, pushing and pulling even faster. I can feel her getting wetter under my direction while the rest of her body loses all control. She pushes her ass and hips back towards me and stretches the top of her body before she shoots up like a rocket to almost standing. My arms wrap around her chest and waist, as I feel her orgasm, her body giving up the fight as it falls back towards the dresser.

  Seeing her like that only speeds me up, as well. Once again, a fire burns within me, as I know I’m on the verge. I gnaw at my lip as I concentrate on her body under me. But my mind goes blank and the darkened room turns white as everything stops in place. It’s just her and me, our bodies releasing our pleasure together. I pull out just in time to spill myself over her back and butt.

  When both of us are cleaned and recovered, I pick her back up into my arms and carry her into her bed. Her feet kick at the comforter and sheet until she’s covered with her bare back facing me. In the darkness of the room as I listen closely to the sounds of the cars and motorcycles passing by, Sierra contently says, “Thank you, Tank. Thank you.”

  Chapter 18: Collections

  He’s gone when I wake up. He’s always gone when I wake up. I can’t remember a night that he stayed.

  I stretch my legs out, giving myself the expanse of the bed. Where I remember him resting is still warm, still partially sunken in from his enormous size. I let myself linger there, feeling the outline of his body as if he was still present.

  My body aches; my jaw is sore. Last night was such a rollercoaster of emotions, but at least it ended up like that, with both of us releasing all of our emotions and needs with our bodies. I felt lighter today, maybe even a bit bolder. There’s something about pleasing a man like that that can make a girl feel brand new.

  But as I stand, wiggling my feet into the tan carpet of my bedroom, I remember the other part of the night. I wasn’t safe; Tank made that clear. And Anthony with his family on the run… I wondered where they were, and if he had kept his courage enough to rat out Abe and the Aztecs for what they did to his sister.

  Oh God. I prayed. Please protect them and keep them safe. I know what Abe is capable of now, and I don’t want to visit them in the hospital, too.

  The hospital. That’s where I need to be. Tank himself said yesterday that it was the safest place and that no Aztec would attack there. And I’m sure that if Anthony ratted on the Aztecs like he was supposed to, the cops would surely be back to guarding Carmen instead of relying on unarmed security guards. I look over to the discarded bag full of clothing Tank took out my hands last night and then back over to the open windows.

  Tank mentioned he had someone watching me, at least last night. But what good could they realistically do? How fast could Tank get here if Abe came calling for me? I reach over to my side table and grab my cell phone off of the charger and then pick up the bag with the mixed match clothing inside. I don’t have much time to think about it. All I can do is hope I can get out of here soon enough.

  After getting dressed and packing the rest of my essentials, I’m on the road in my old Chevy—the one gift I kept from my father. At every stop light, I look back in my rearview mirror. I can’t shake this feeling that I’m being followed, or at least being looked over by all of the other drivers passing me by.

  There is a red car about three back from me that seems to swerve whenever I swerve and change lanes whenever I do. But I try not to overthink it. I’m just being paranoid. The shakeup from last night is getting to my head. I take a few deep breaths in and grip the steering wheel a bit harder as I focus on getting off the highway and into the hospital parking lot without getting myself into an accident.

  In my mind, I had imagined the hospital to be in some lockdown with people sprinting throughout the hallways as they tried to protect themselves. Everything in my world would be touched by Anthony’s actions. But I was wrong. El Paso General is as sleepy as ever. There’s not a soul around except for a few nurses purchasing candy bars in the gift shop and a doctor or two lingering in the hallways. I even ride the elevator alone, feeling a bit of relief for the peace and quiet.

  Passing the reception desk, the two nurses on duty smile at me politely and open the automatic, locked doors for me to pass through. Hank, the security guard, is chatting lightly with two police officers outside Carmen’s door. At least I was right about that. Carmen is as safe as she can be with the police coming back. And even before I can get through the door, the officer checks my ID against the list of allowed visitors. As he hands me back my driver’s license and opens Carmen’s door, I can actually feel my shoulders ease up and the weight in my chest slowly dissipate.

  “Girl, you look awful,” Carmen jokes, as I scoot a chair close to her bed. “Not as awful as me, of course. But what happened to you? Bad night?”

  “Good and bad, really.” I smile politely at her. I don’t want to give away too much and add to her stress. All she needs to focus on is healing and getting out of her bed without all the wires, beeping, and pressure cuffs. That alone looked like a nightmare.

  “It’s a guy, isn’t it?” she says with a matter-of-fact smirk, as if she can read my mind with just a glance at my face. “Please tell me it isn’t that Tank guy. I told Anthony to talk to you. Did he at least call you?”

  I pause, unsure what to say. “He stopped by,” I begin cautiously, “but I changed his mind. I explained that Tank was just protecting us because he didn’t do it.”

  “Anthony would never believe that load of bull crap, Sierra. He thinks of you like a big sister, too, and he would rather die than see you with an Apache.” She makes googly eyes at me, as she adds a bit slyly, “Even if he had muscles and the cock to die for.”

  “I wouldn’t say it is ‘to die for,’ but I’ll just say that he knows how to work what he’s got. And he’s got a lot.” I wink at her with a coy smile.

  Carmen loves it. Her face instantly lights up and the beeping machine monitoring her heart races. Girl talk was exactly the distraction she needs. “Tell me more Miss Sierra. Is the reason you’re looking so tired and haggard because someone had a long night in the company of a big dick named Tank?”

  I lower my voice as I lean over her bed. “I hurt so bad. I mean, I’ve had this kind of pain before with other guys, but Tank’s so big, and he really went to town on me afterwards.”

  “Did you…you know…complete the job?”

  “Him twice—one by mouth. Me once. But I let him have a freebie. He did me a, um, favor that I wanted to repay him for. I really wish you would give him a chance, Carmen. He’s not the devil himself. He is actually much softer than what Anthony or the other guys would let you believe. He even cooked me dinner one night. What MC guy would do that for their girl?”

  “None of them. That’s why I know it’s too good to be true. I know we talked about this yesterday, but you need to protect yourself outside of wearing a condom and using a bit more lube next ti
me. Don’t let him get too close to you.”

  “I just want you to meet him. I think you’d change your mind if you could just hear him out. He’s trying to help you.” I genuinely want this to happen. I think Carmen would love matching wits with Tank. And the part of me that longs for a real sister needs Carmen to give him her approval without pre-judging. If she only knew what he was like outside of being an Apache patch wearer, she’d see he isn’t the monster everyone paints him to be.

  Carmen looks towards the partially open door. Two more cops have gathered outside. They are whispering urgently to one another while talking into the black walkie-talkies perched on their shoulders. Hank, the security guard, is gone. Carmen leans back into her pillows and stares at the ceiling. A small, relieved smile crosses her purple and black face. “By the looks of it, I don’t need Tank’s help. The cops seem to have this handled.”

  I gulp nervously as I ask her, “Did they say anything to you about the case?”

  “An officer came in today. I think his name was Thompson. He mentioned that they had a new lead. Someone came forward with a picture and a name, but they were still working out the details.” She fiddles with the remote and sighs, as she gives up finding an appropriate channel. “I actually feel sorry for the person. I mean, I appreciate the help, but it’s a death sentence if it turns out to be a MC behind this.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that right now. All that matters is that it will be over soon, if the officer is right.” This has to be a good sign. Anthony did his job, and the cops are now after Abe and the Aztecs for this. While I realistically know from experience that so many cops are in the pockets of MC gangs around this town, I also know that if other Aztecs get word that Abe was behind it, they won’t be too quick to defend their leader. It’s one thing to take out a rival; it’s another thing entirely to take out a family member and the daughter of a legacy. Abe had something bad coming for him, and I’m a bit glad to get a front-row seat for the show.

  Both of us sit silently, watching the television. Some trashy soap opera was the only thing we could agree on. A husband had come back to life after being presumed dead in a house fire—his wife looking anything but happy about it. So much drama. So much death. I could almost see my own scenario play out on that screen with Tank and I riding into the sunset, our family and friends presuming us to be victim of evil Abe’s horrible plots.

  I must have nodded off in the huge leather lounge chair because when I awake, there’s a nurse hovering over me and the blinds are drawn down to hide against the mid-day sun. “Miss,” she says exasperated. “Wake up, miss.”

  “Hmm… what?” I shake my head, willing myself to be more alert. I apologize quickly for falling asleep though I can’t imagine I’ve broken any rules.

  “Miss, there’s a visitor here to see Carmen, but he is not on the list.”

  “That’s fine,” I reply, not totally comprehending what is going on, “Whoever it is, let him in. She’s sleeping anyways.” I roll over to my side to see Carmen fast asleep, the remote still clenched in her hands. Her monitors beep and buzz as normal. It’s almost soothing.

  The nurse walks out, as I stand to greet whomever is here to see Carmen. I walk to the mirror to fix the mess of my hair that’s gone wavy where it was laid on, wetting it with water, and then tug at the hem of my short, blue-plaid sundress. It was always just a bit too short, but it was the first thing I grabbed this morning.

  “Don’t fix it. It looks great from this angle.”

  My heart bumps in my chest, as I spin terrified towards the voice. Tank leans up against the door, his entire body taking up the space. He is smirking at me, as my mouth opens in a gasp. I look over towards the bed. Carmen’s still sleeping…thank God.

  “What are you doing here, Tank?” I ask urgently, approaching him slowly.

  He moves in towards the room and shuts the door so we’re closed off from the three cops that are still standing watch. “I heard you were here. I figured you shouldn’t be alone. Not right now.”

  “Why ‘not right now?’ What’s happening?” My voice is panicked, as I think of Anthony and his kids being found out, dragged from their home, murdered in cold blood.

  He senses my fear and walks towards me. His hands hold my shoulders in place, as he sits me down at the small table at the side of the hospital room. He takes a seat next to me and lowers his voice, aware that Carmen shouldn’t be in on this. “Anthony did his thing. As far as my guy tells me, he’s still at the station with his wife and the kids. Nothing to worry about there. But the Aztecs know, and they’re on the prowl. They think Anthony turned on Abe.”

  “Those brainwashed bastards! Don’t they get it that Abe actually did it? Why would Anthony nark on his own leader?”

  “Because, although he is a sorry excuse for a human being, he still knows how to command a room. He can get them to believe anything if he tries hard enough. It’s how this works. My men trust me, and if they heard that someone had squealed on me, it would be the same consequences.”

  I look him up and down. The man sitting before me is my vision of Tank—the guy who cooks me dinner, who brushes away strands of hair from my eyes, who soothes me. It’s not the Tank who commits heinous crimes and commands a small army to break every law known to man. But deep down inside, I know that it’s his true self. He’s not any better than Abe. I was going to have to come to grips with that eventually.

  “So,” I say after a long moment of contemplating, “What comes next?”

  “Yeah, Tank. What does come next?”

  The sound of the door opening behind us startles me, as I rush over to Carmen’s bedside. Tank stands, throwing the chair to the ground. We both stare at the unknown man pointing a gun directly at Tank’s head.

  Chapter 19: In the Crossfire

  The sound of a gun going off is something you really can’t forget. Most people say it’s like a car backfiring. Others think it sounds more like a lid to a large metal garbage dumpster slamming shut. But when that same person hears the sound of real gunfire, they will never mistake it for a broken car or a noisy trashcan again. It plants itself in your mind so that whenever you hear it, you’ll be reminded of the first time you heard one go off.

  For me, my first gunfire was with the Apaches. My mentor Rico, the same neighbor who welcomed me into the Apaches, was a man of action. He didn’t mess around on his routes like some of the other guys I knew. He ruled them with an iron fist. When someone didn’t have his money or refused to pay him for the territory protection, he was on them.

  And it was often with a gun. A few weeks after I started dealing with him, he handed me this black pistol. It was vintage, like something you’d see in a Western with a turn barrel. He liked the sound of the clicks it made when it was cocked and loaded. The newer guns weren’t for him. They didn’t have that same, special quality as the older models. But I didn’t see the gun the same way he did. The gun was terrifying. The gun was holding life and death in my hand, and I hated it.

  Maria was a hooker on part of Rico’s territory he guarded. She was notorious for back-talking Rico and making jokes about the gang. Finally, one morning just after I had turned seventeen, he snapped. She had had a bad night the night before and couldn’t pay the fee for her street business. When Rico heard that, he thrust the gun in my hand and commanded me, “Shoot her in the fuckin’ leg, boy!”

  Maria looked at me in horror. Her face turned from this beautiful shade of painted tan to white as a ghost. I could see the veins in her eyes as she waited, sobbing. When I didn’t fire off instantly, Rico struck me on the shoulders hard. So hard that it caused me to pull the trigger. The bullet hit her in the left hip, just above the thigh. She collapsed on to the ground, withering in pain as blood soaked through her black tights and shorts on the black pavement.

  I froze in place, looking at the gun. Eventually, Rico pulled me away from the scene. Cop sirens were in the distance, and our other route workers were starting to assemble, some to help Mar
ia up and over to her car. We never saw Maria again. I couldn’t tell you today if she was alive or dead.

  But despite that, despite not being totally in control of my first fire, I still taste that moment today. It’s the slight stale, chemical smoke that lingers in the air and the echo that rings in your ears as the power of the gun pushes backwards on your body.

  Back in the hospital room, I’m on the other side of the gun. I see Sierra dive towards her roommate’s bed as she screams. It’s blood curdling, exhausted, terrified. I have heard many people scream before, especially when death is pointing right at them, but never like this. I only have time to turn around when I hear it.

  I half-imagine myself to wake up dead—to open up my eyes and see a bright white light or a dark tunnel with no end. However, there are no trumpets or dead loved ones to greet me. There isn’t even the devil teasing me to come forward towards my fate. Instead, I hear Sierra once more.