Tank

by Trixie Brewster

  “No one.” She whispers. I am taken aback to the news that no one rescued her from the Las Moicas.

  “You want to talk about it?” I try, I heard somewhere that talking about it can help.

  “No.”

  I try a different approach. “Angie, it might help to understand why you might try and run.” Her face softens for a second. She takes a deep breath blowing out the breath.

  “All you need to know is that I was young and stupid, and they found me on campus alone.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “I didn’t. The Las Moicas did what was needed and left.” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. Did what was needed, they fucking raped her. My fist tightened, and I felt the bite of my nails cutting into my palms. “It’s over and done with. In the past.” Goddamn, this woman was stronger than I thought at first. She went through all that, and yet here she is, feisty all get out.

  “Angie, why didn’t you tell your dad?”

  “Why? To start another war? It was bad enough that Ivan left and took my boyfriend at the time with him. I got my wish. I got freedom, well as much as I could have.”

  “Did you know that your dad had men tailing you?”

  “Yeah, they weren’t too discreet about it.” She shrugged her shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal. “Have you heard anything about my mama?”

  “Yes and no. The club has a lead on where your mom might be.”

  “Really, that is good. Really good. You don’t understand if my mama dies. Then my dad will come unhinged. She is kind of like his lavender, his calm. The Las Moicas believe they are getting to him, all they are doing is letting the devil out.” I have seen the two of them together, I don’t doubt what Angie is saying. Evan seems well put together, I can only imagine the hell that man could rain down on the Las Moicas.

  “Angie, I need you to understand that if you run, it won’t help anyone. Not you, not your dad, and not my club.” I keep my tone level and low. I need her to understand her running will only get people killed. Her father will forget what he is going after, and I would have to hunt her down.

  “Fine. I don’t like staying here.” She uncrosses her arms and looks defeated, wholly defeated. I did that to her, I made her feel like that. Now I feel like a bigger asshole than I really was trying to be. Fuck, why does this shit have to so damned hard? You either win or you lose, there is no grey area.

  “Neither do I. Get some rest, I’ll get us some lunch.” I put two pills down on the nightstand for her to take. A pain pill and her antibiotic. After lunch, I will need to change and clean her stitches, make sure they are healing correctly, and let them air dry.

  I used to love sandwiches growing up, now I hate them. That was all that was packed, lunch meat, bread, and lots of canned food. Thinking about the time I had to spend in foster care brings me even further into the dumps than I already was. I already didn’t have the best upbringing, I had to grow up before I should have. By thirteen, I was Molly’s primary caregiver. I had no idea where the money that paid the bills came from. But I was glad that we at least had heat in the winter, and money to buy food from the grocery store. But what I tried to protect my sister from I was not fast enough.

  I thought we were out of the darkest time of our lives. But after our parents killed each other in their hate for each other. I never understood why they hated each so damned much. They were both abusive people. My father wasn’t able to make my mother stop fighting him even when he used his fists. She never gave up the power she wanted. When I was younger, I thought it was a good thing that she fought back, but as I got older, I realized that their anger and hatred was real. They loved each other so much they hated each other.

  The foster home we were put in made my parents look like a dream come true. The foster dad was just as abusive as both of my parents combined. But he singled me out instead. His son, that was my age had a problem with keeping his hands to himself. I found Molly a couple of months after being there cornered by the asshole, Kevin was his name, he thought since his father took us in for the monthly check that he should have his fun as well, with my sister. She was barely ten years old at that time. That was the first time I used my fists on another person, and I liked it. I liked the feeling that I got by beating his face in. That day sealed my fate with the foster father. I never got a good night's rest after that night. For nine months, I had to look over my shoulder and keep Molly close to me. There was no way in hell that I was letting them hurt her. I gladly took the nightly beatings so long as my sister was safe from Kevin and his hands.

  When I turned eighteen, I took Molly and ran. I met a lawyer that helped us, she a nice woman, and I learned that day that my dick was worth something. I fucked that woman so good that she got me full custody of my sister. Four years later, I met Brick at the bar in town, my prospecting began the next day. By the time I was twenty-five, I have my full patch, and I never felt prouder. I was an Angel and Sinner, things got easier for Molly and me after I patched in. Money was easy to come by, and protection was easier for my sister in school.

  For the first time in my life, I felt like the world was right. Getting the patch was as close to happiness, I thought I could get. When my sister graduated from school and got a full scholarship to the college of her choice made so proud, I walked around with my chest puffed out for a whole month. I knew my sister was smart, but she showed me up on what I knew. Then I met Angie, and I realized what was missing from my life this whole time. If I could get that woman to understand that I needed her to stay and to stop being a stubborn brat, I could show her that she completes my life.

  Taking the sandwich into Angie’s room, I put the plate on the bed. “I’m going to need to look at your stitches.” She crosses her arms again and glares at me. Where in the hell did the woman go that used to smile at me? Guess I blew that out of the water when I tied her to the bed. But damn if I don’t want to make her smile again. I miss Angie’s smiles and her laughing eyes when we spar words with each other.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine, eat first.”

  “No. I don’t want to.” She looks and sounds like a spoiled brat. With her arms crossed over her chest and her nose turned up at me. Damn if I don’t want to bend her over my knee and turn her ass a pretty shade of pink.

  “Princess, you either eat, or I will help you eat.” Her lips part for a second before her eyes darken.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Letting out a small laugh. “Yeah, I would, and you know I will too.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine, what?” Damn, I never thought I would see Angie pout. Sure enough, she is pouting. My dick likes it a little too damned much.

  “Fine, I will eat.”

  “Good.” I leave the room to clear my head and get my dick to deflate. I need to get my head examined or something. Pouting shouldn’t be considered as sexy, but of course, the wild cat in that bedroom can make anything hot. I bet if she worse granny panties, she would still look sexy as hell.

  I gave her thirty minutes to eat the sandwich and chips. Time to go and look at this wound and get her back to bed. The first thing I noticed was that the plate was empty. Glad she could follow directions and do something good for her health. According to Doc, she needed to eat with the antibiotic. I had full intentions of making sure she ate all of the food too. I was fully prepared to force her to eat if I had to. Nothing was going to take Angie away from me.

  “Okay, princess time to get you cleaned up.”

  “Fine.” I smiled at her pouting face. Glad to see that she was at least talking. Though I sure did wish she would use more than one-word answers. But I had to take what I could. Molly was an unruly teen when I was raising her. She gave me so many fits and fights that I thought I would go bald before she left for college.

  “Might be easier if you wear a dress or something,” I grumbled to myself as I helped her to get out of the jeans she was wearing. Trying not to hurt her, slowly peeling t
he jeans off her creamy thighs. Looking at her face to make sure I wasn’t hurting her, she had her eyes tightly closed and her nose scrunched up. “Angie, you okay?”

  “Fine.” Was the only response I got from her stubborn ass. Taking a warm damp cloth and blotting at the dried blood. Once it was clean, instead of putting her jeans back on her, I covered her up with a blanket.

  “Let me know if you need anything.” Nodding her head, I headed into the living area. Damned women always messing with shit. My gut told me that something was off. Sure she got shot and had the scare of her life, or at least I took as the biggest scare of her life. For all, I knew my woman had been through more than one person could handle. I had a gut feeling that everything was building to a massive blow up.

  I had never seen Angie pout like this. She was shutting down, and I didn’t like it one bit. If I pushed her, there was no telling what would happen. This woman already had me wrapped tight around her, not wanting to lose her. I needed a plan to get her back. We never talked about what we were. That was my biggest regret of my life right now, I should have told her two weeks ago at the club party what I was thinking. Instead, I was worried about not being enough for her and her lifestyle. This non-communication had to stop.

  The sex was great, the company even better. We had a routine going on. We met up after work had dinner, fucked, slept together at night, and went our separate ways. I had never slept with a woman willingly, I fucking liked it. Maybe it was just Angie that I wanted. Fuck, who knew what it was. All I knew was that selfishly, I wasn’t giving her up, she was mine, no one else's but mine. I had a plan to get her to open up to me.

  Chapter 22

  Angela

  Three days, he kept me tied to this bed for three damned days. Alone on top of that. He brings me the pills that I need to take, food, water, and unties me to go to the bathroom. The asshole might as well just put bars up and paint the walls gray. Why doesn’t he get it that I need to leave? And who the hell tipped him off that I might go. Fucking assholes, all men were assholes. It was either my dad or fucking Ivan. I should be used to having my life ruled by men. Having a father like Evan O’Malley meant I didn’t have any freedoms. I was watched all day every fucking day. Never having a moment alone. I am pretty sure that he knew when I masturbated as a teen. That fucking controlling. Sure it had its ups. I didn’t have to worry too much about being snatched. Oh, wait, yeah, I did; it still happened. I shouldn’t have worried over being raped, but hell that happened anyway, too. So, what was the damned point of not giving me more freedom, everything he tried to protect me from happened even with all the protection in place? I know I am just acting like a pissy fucking brat, I need something or someone to point all of my anger and resentment to.

  I love my dad, I really do. But the work he decided to go into put everyone around him in so much danger it hurts. Friends were a luxury. I made him keep an eye on Molly. Why? Because she was my best bud and I needed to make sure that her knowing me didn’t put her in danger. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything were to happen to her because of me. But that didn’t help either, the man I fell in love with, is being hurt right now. Why? Because his club was associated with me all those years ago. It makes sense to me if I leave, then so will the cartel. I hear what Tank is saying that I am not the common factor, but with my track record, it makes sense to me.

  I didn’t have a silver spoon in my mouth like other kids that their parents had money. Nope, instead, a good dose of fear as a teen. I knew what monsters looked like. I should know because I was raised by one.

  Scrubbing my hands over my face. “Ugh.” My father really wasn’t a monster, or at least not to me. He was loving and caring but controlling when it came to safety. I wouldn’t be who I was today without everything happening to me like it did. It wasn’t ideal that I had to learn life lessons so brutally. Rubbing my temples and closing my eyes, I sighed and relented that I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe Tank was right, and me running wouldn’t help anyone. When all of this blows over, I can make my decision then. I hope that my dad and Tank’s club would be able to find my mama before anything happened to her. Oh god, I can't believe that this blew back on my mother of all the people in this world. She is the least deserving of this. My mamma is the sweetest, most beautiful person I know. She loves unconditionally and had gander notions about love.

  “Hey, are ya hungry?” Tank stuck his head in the bedroom. God, he was so damn handsome. Blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and a body that just begged to be licked and bitten. My attitude could be better towards Tank. It wasn’t his fault that my head was in a huge dilemma. I wanted so badly to stay and see where things went with him. But hell, he was only there for the fucking and nothing more.

  “Yeah, I am. What’s for lunch?” Trying for a smile instead of a frown. I am pretty sure it didn’t come to look like a smile.

  “Soup, we ate all the lunch meat and bread.”

  Holding up my roped wrist, “if you let me go, I could probably make fresh bread.” He narrowed his eyes at me. I knew what he was thinking, he didn’t know if he could trust not to try and run. Sighing, “Look, Tank. There is no reason for me to go anywhere. I don’t even know where we are.” Feeling all of the fight leave my system, I slumped back against the headboard. How had my life took such a damned turn? I had a few good years before everything came crashing down. I just want a peaceful life, maybe a couple of kids and a decent man. Was I asking for too much? What am I doing wrong to have the universe attack me so damn much? Karma had been instant when she decided to skip out on Ivan all those years ago. Now trying to have a fuck buddy, well damn I got shot, ran off the road, and lost what little freedom all in the same damn day.

  I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and just turn all of this pain into something more productive. I was a damned O’Malley. Nothing should get me down and make me feel less than. And yet here I am tied to a fucking bed with nothing to do except think about my life choices and all the shit I did wrong. Like when I stole the piece of gum from a gas station as a child. There is that big lie that I claimed that Marc took my virginity, truth is he didn’t. Apparently, a man named Juan that wanted revenge did. What if my lie got Marc hurt or worse killed. Because of my foolishness and my damned lie, I could be responsible for Marc’s death. Trying to keep it locked down, a sob made its way out. Once it came out, the waterworks wouldn’t turn off. This was all my fault, it all started with the damned gum. If I had always stayed with Ivan, none of this shit would have happened. First, when I was six, then when I was thirteen, when I was twenty, and now this. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Shhh, Babe, it’s not your fault.” No. No. No. Tank was still in the room. No. Trying to get my emotions under control only made the anguish harder and the tears and sobs to bubble up out of all the years of trying to hold it together. My feelings and façade that nothing had ever happened to me exploded into a million pieces.

  “Yes, it is. You just don’t know the half of it.” Tank wiped the tears from my face. There was no point in it; the tears just kept coming. Tank crushed me to his chest. He was my rock for the moment, clutching to him and just letting it all spill out. He stroked my face and neck as I cried myself out.

  “Tell me,” Tank didn’t look in my eyes. He just rocked me and smoothed out my hair.

  “When I was thirteen, they got me for the first time. Bear found me. That was when I discovered who my father really was. When…When I was twenty. Tank, it was horrible.” Trying to compose my tear ridden self before I went on. “I was stupid. I wanted freedom. I never had, always having someone watching my every move. I wanted to go to a frat party, so I gave Ivan the slip. Everything was going as planned. I was going to meet Molly there, only I never got there. Juan and his friends found me.”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Tank rubbed my back. I didn’t want to tell him what happened, every time I talked with the therapist, it felt like I was back in that dark alley all over again.


  “I lied, Tank I think I got Marc killed or hurt. He didn’t take my virginity. He didn’t, he didn’t even get close to it. I didn’t want my dad to know, I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to go to war again.” Tank stiffened his arms and pulled me away from him.

  “What happened that night?” Shaking my head. I didn’t want to voice it, not again. “Angie, goddamnit, you lost your virginity that night. They took it, didn’t they.” He must have seen the answer in my face. His arms tightened around me as he laid my head on his chest. “Angie, god, I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry. They will pay, babe. I promise you they will pay.” I heard what he said, and instead of feeling horrible that someone was going to die because of me and my stupid actions, I felt like a weight was being lifted off my chest.

  “I went to therapy and all of that survivor stuff. I got better, I guess. Tank you were the first for me technically.” When he pulled back the look in his eyes, gutted me. What did he have to be sorry about?

  “I was fucking rough with you.” The laugh bubbled from deep within me.

  “I asked for it. It was good, I felt like I was getting my life back.” Looking into his blue eyes. He didn’t understand, by me being able to have sex with him and want it rough was freedom to me and my body. “Tank, you made me feel, really fucking feel.” He cupped the back of my skull and pulled my lips to his. Feeling his lips on me, was like coming home from a long trip. A small sigh left my lips. I missed his touch, missed him. There was no way I was going to be able to leave Redding. Not with Tank here. Feeling the rope fall away from my wrist, taking full advantage of my new freedom, I wrapped my arms around his neck and settled in his lap. Three days felt like torture being away from his touch. I was so screwed. My heart was screwed.