Tank

by Erin Bevan

  “What’s life without a little danger?”

  “I don’t want you to get into trouble or get yourself hurt. I can just buy her a few things in the meantime, and try to work a couple of extra shifts or something.”

  “Aw.” JoJo gave him a pat on the cheek. “Nice to know you care.”

  He turned his face away from her touch and crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Noted. Besides, extra shifts won’t give her back her dad’s locket.” She slapped him on the shoulder. “See ya tonight.”

  Insufferable. That’s what she was, but damn if she wasn’t right. He gathered that little string of gold held more sentimental value to Annie than anything else in this world. But JoJo had to know this was a really bad, terrible, horrible idea.

  “Please—”

  “Tank, no one deserves to have their life and their belongings taken away from them because of abuse. I’m going in.” She swiveled and marched down the steps, her riding boots clomping on the wood. “Besides…” She stopped and turned back to him. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a while. Don’t take that away from me, and don’t you dare say a word to the group. Got it, greenhorn?”

  “You’re going to do this whether we help or not, aren’t you?” A bad feeling settled in his gut. This woman had a death wish.

  “Yep. See you at six.” She pivoted on her boots and strolled down the driveway, her gait as cocky as her words.

  Damn woman. She was doing that like/hate thing to him again. He hated her one-minute, then liked her the next.

  “You’re a good person, JoJo,” he called behind her.

  “I know, but don’t tell anyone.” She stuck the eggroll between her teeth and straddled her bike, not bothering to give him another glance.

  Out of all the people in the group, he had to befriend that one. He watched dust fly behind her bike then turned and strolled back inside. Annie sat on the couch, fumbling through her purse. She pulled out a checkbook ledger and flipped through the pages.

  “Everything all right?”

  “I really need to see if there is any money in this account. I want to get it out before Duke does.”

  “If you’re worried about money, or food, or anything, don’t. We’ll figure it out.”

  “No offense, Tyler, but that’s one way Duke charmed me. By telling me he would take care of me.” She stood and reached for her keys on the counter. “I need to start taking care of myself.”

  “Annie? What are you doing? If you take your car, someone will spot you.”

  “Have a better idea?”

  “We’ll go in my truck. Once we get close to town, you can scrunch down in the seat.”

  “I hate that I have to hide.”

  “I know, but just until we get this figured out. Please, either don’t go, or go with me.”

  “Fine.” She blew out a breath, dug in her purse, and thrust her ATM card his way. “Here. Zero-zero-zero-zero is the pin. Not very hard to remember.”

  “Zero’s. Got it. Let’s go.” He grabbed his truck keys off a hook by the front door. “Al, outside.” His dog took his time getting up to stretch, his legs so far apart from each other he was nearly in a horizontal position again. Coming back to all fours, he trotted to the front door. Once outside, the dog plopped on the shaded porch.

  Hard life.

  “Be back soon, buddy,” Annie spoke to her new friend as Tank marched toward his grandfather’s truck.

  He opened the passenger side door for her. “I’m sorry it has to be this way right now, Annie.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” She slid onto the seat, avoiding the tarp and giant, rusted rim that sat on the floorboard.

  “I’ve been meaning to take that out. Gramps left it there. I just hadn’t had the heart to remove it yet. He was always tinkering with something.” He reached for the dirty covering.

  “No, it’s okay. Don’t move it, and besides, we aren’t going very far.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled a smile so genuine, it threw his thoughts totally off kilter.

  “Okay. Well… Here.” He gripped the seatbelt and pulled it toward her. “Buckle up.”

  “Thanks.” She took the belt and clicked it in place.

  Using his palm, he gave the door a good shut, ran around the truck, and got in. He cranked the ignition, and rolled his window down using the hand turn. “The AC doesn’t work.”

  “Oh, okay.” She moved to roll her window down, wincing.

  The muscles in his chest tightened.

  Dumb ass. I should have done that for her.

  “Here, let me get that.” He leaned over her and reached for the window, his arm grazing her leg. The realization he’d inadvertently touched her thigh hit. “Sorry.” He pulled back quickly. “But that should help with the heat.” He motioned to the window and avoided eye contact.

  Deep down, a part of him still felt like that shy kid on the dock, too scared to talk to her. But he wasn’t a child anymore. He was all adult male and while the wind might help her, nothing seemed to help with the temperature rise he experienced from the small contact with her body. Not the hot, muggy wind, and certainly not being in such a confined space with her.

  “Thank you. And I understand.”

  He dared to look her way.

  She kept her gaze on him. She understood she excited him? Great.

  “About the floorboard, I mean.” She pointed down toward the junk. “My dad, he had this coffee cup he always used. Drove my mom crazy the way he would leave it on the counter instead of putting it in the sink when he was finished.” She giggled slightly, reminiscing about her parents.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Her smile faded. “On the day of their accident, he drank a cup of coffee before they went out for their date. He kept saying he didn’t sleep very well the night before, and even though it was five in the afternoon, he claimed he needed a little pick me up before their evening.” She fumbled with the clasp on her purse. “He drank about half the cup and placed it on the counter, right where he always did. My parents went out on their date, and I had planned to pick up the house and wash the dishes before they got back. That never happened.”

  “Why not? Have your own hot date?”

  A different smile covered her face. Pleasant but forced. “I wish that were the reason.”

  He had an idea where the conversation was going. Her father was dead, that much he knew, but he wanted to know how, why. He wanted to know as much about her as she would tell him. To open up. Trust him. “What happened, Annie?”

  “An officer had come to the door before I got around to cleaning the house. The man informed me my mom was in the hospital, and my dad was dead.” Her lazy smile disappeared only to be replaced with a frown as she wiped a tear from her good eye.

  A deep yearning to reach out and touch her burned inside of him. He tightened his hands on the wheel instead.

  “You know, they say driving while you’re tired is just as bad as driving drunk. My dad didn’t notice the car in front of him had stopped. It was a sunny June day, so I suppose the brake lights may have been hard to see. He hit the car going sixty miles an hour. My mom…” She stopped and took in a breath and stared into her hands.

  He kept his focus straight ahead. Gave her the time she needed to go on.

  “My mom suffered severe brain injuries, while my dad died on impact. The person in the other car miraculously survived, but not without suing my mother for everything she had left. I didn’t get to stay in our house long after the accident. But while I was there, the coffee cup stayed on the counter. It was the last thing I packed. As long as it was on the counter, right where my dad had left it, it made me feel like his presence was still there. If that makes any sense.”

  “It does.” He reached in the glove box and pulled out a tissue.

  She took it and sniffled, offering him a sheepish grin. “Thanks.” She wiped her eyes.

  “I
’m sorry.” He fidgeted his fingers on the wheel, while he concentrated on not reaching across the truck to touch her.

  “Thank you.”

  “You said June. How long ago was this?”

  “Nine years ago yesterday.”

  Yesterday? The anniversary of her father’s death, and the same day her own world fell apart again. He would change her Junes. Somehow, someway, he would see to it she could be happy again.

  Screw not touching her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m very sorry, Annie.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “Thanks.”

  As much as he enjoyed her caress, and wanted it to linger, he didn’t want to see her tears. The conversation needed to be changed.

  “And your locket?”

  “My fourteenth birthday present. I wanted a real piece of jewelry, and that’s what I got. My parents’ pictures are in it, like I remember them growing up.”

  Memories. JoJo was right. No amount of money could bring that back. She deserved to have her first piece of jewelry, her only connection left to her dad, returned.

  “Where is your mother now?”

  She released her hold on him. “She lives in an assisted living center in Austin.”

  That explained why she couldn’t go to her mother for help.

  “And what about the mug? Where’s it now?”

  “Wrapped up tight in the back of my car.” She crumpled the wet tissue in her hand. “Besides my personal items, Duke wasn’t crazy about me moving anything of my own in his house. That wasn’t much of a problem since I didn’t have much. I bounced around from foster home to foster home for a year after the accident before I was able to go out on my own, but I’d managed to keep my dad’s moose mug through all of it. I couldn’t bear to throw it out, or let anything happen to it, so I hid it from Duke.”

  “You can use it at my house.” He glanced at her “I won’t ask that you throw it out. I won’t even touch it. I would hate to accidently break it.”

  She smiled again, even brighter. “Thank you.”

  He had an even more difficult time breathing. Had to be the thick, muggy air. Had to be, but the more she talked, and the more she smiled, the more he cared for her.

  Damn, that wasn’t in his plans.

  A sign for Black Widow came into view. “We’re entering the town, so you might want to duck.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She unbuckled her seat belt and crouched down in the seat. A slight gasp parted from her lips.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just hurts a little.”

  “I’ll be quick. Which bank is it?” Black Widow’s main drag housed the only two banks in the whole town.

  “Livingston’s.”

  He turned into the parking lot of the bank and headed toward the drive-through ATM. A police car sat in a parking spot. His hands began to clam as he grabbed her ATM card out of his cup holder.

  “Stay down. There’s a cop car in the parking lot. I can’t see if anyone is inside or not.”

  He rolled his window down farther, and slid the card into the machine. Once he punched in Annie’s code, the machine flashed the account had been closed. No surprise there. He retrieved the card, and rolled up his window part of the way.

  “Your account’s been closed.”

  “That son of a bitch,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rubbing her forehead, she said, “Not your fault.”

  He eased out of the parking lot and made it twenty feet down the street before he had to stop at a red light. The sound of a siren whirled behind him.

  “Shit.”

  Tingles shot through his clammy hands.

  “Oh my God, Tyler, what do I do?” Annie whispered.

  The floorboard still covered in his grandpa’s old junk, there wasn’t anywhere for her to go.

  The tarp.

  “Hide under the tarp. I’ll put the rim in front of you to make it look like it’s a floorboard of junk. Hurry, and be very still.”

  Annie lifted the dank covering over her head, pulling her purse with her, while he signaled to turn into a parking lot. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. He placed his truck in park, sat the rim in place, then rolled his window down all the way and reached for his wallet.

  The same cop with the hard stare from the diner ambled to his truck. His name badge read Chief Fields.

  Annie’s abuser stared back at him.

  Tank gripped his steering wheel, his knuckles tight on the rim.

  Stay calm. Play this cool.

  He cut his gaze to Annie. The tarp didn’t move.

  Duke peered in his window, and removed his shades. The man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “What seems to be the problem, officer?”

  “You’ve got a taillight out.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ll be sure to get that fixed.”

  “I need to see your license and insurance.”

  Tank handed him his license then reached for the insurance card out of his glove box. The lid of the box slipped from his sweaty hand and landed on what he thought was Annie’s head. The tarp shifted slightly. He grabbed the information, flipped the lid closed, and sat back up, shifting his body to block the floorboard. A silent prayer played over in his mind, pleading the bastard didn’t see the movement.

  “The registration’s not in your name.”

  “No, sir.” A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek. “This was my grandfather’s truck. He left it to me.”

  “I see.” Duke gave him a hard stare. “Why are you sweating so much?”

  “You know these old trucks. The air went out about a year ago, and gramps never got it fixed. Now, I guess it’s my problem.” Tank wiped his brow; thankful he could blame his sweating on the busted AC.

  “What’s all that in the floorboard?” Duke pointed to the tarp. “I saw you bending over.”

  “Oh that. Just more stuff my grandpa left me. Old car parts and such.” He patted the rim. “And I bent over because my wallet slid off the seat and fell to the floorboard. I don’t like sitting on it. It’s uncomfortable.”

  “Yeah?” Duke raised an eyebrow. “I understand that. Did your gramps… He like to tinker?”

  Small talk.

  Something he never thought he’d be having with Annie’s abuser. As long as it kept the maniac away from her and off their trail, he’d oblige the man.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Mmm…well…” Duke glanced back at his license. “Tyler, I’m just going to run this. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure.”

  He waited the agonizing five minutes for the no-good chief to finish. “I’m sorry, Annie. Just a little longer,” he whispered as he checked his rearview mirror. “Here he comes.”

  “Get that light fixed, Wilde, or next time I won’t be so nice.” Duke slapped him with a warning.

  “Yes, sir.” He scribbled his name on the form and thrust the pad back to the man.

  The cop gave him his copy and smacked the side of his truck before he strolled back to his patrol unit.

  Slowly, Tank put the truck back in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. He watched out of his mirrors as the cop turned and headed in the opposite direction.

  Relieved the man was gone, he loosened his tense grip on the steering wheel. “Okay, Annie, it’s safe now.”

  She pulled the tarp down, a fresh batch of tears in her eyes. “That was him.”

  “I know. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice shook. “Do you think he realized I was down here?”

  “No, I think you’re okay.” He turned off the main street and took a side road. “In a couple of more blocks, you can get up.”

  “Okay.” She wiped a tear. “But you may have to help me. My ribs are hurting.”

  “That’s it.” He put on his signal. “I’m taking you to a hospital.”

  “No.” She reached out to touch his leg. “Tyler, please. No.”


  He glanced down at her. Her eye was still nearly swollen shut, and the bruise across her cheek screamed a blood red, her pain almost palpable. He grit his teeth. “Okay. But I’m taking you home, and you’re resting until you’re healed.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  A few minutes later, he turned down the back road toward his home. “You can get up now. We’re out of the city.” He pulled over to the side of the street and reached a hand down to help her up. Slowly, she raised her body, cringing at the pain.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.” She squinted her good eye and took in a deep breath. Once she got settled onto the seat, she let out the heavy breath. “But maybe you’re right. No more trips to town in broad daylight until I’m healed.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” He pulled the truck back on the road. Watching her gaze out the window as the trees passed by, he asked, “Annie, if Duke is scheduled to work tonight, why was he working today? Especially, if he worked last night too?”

  “I should have seen it coming.”

  “What?”

  “He wasn’t working. Not technically, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was waiting. Waiting to see if I would make an appearance at the bank.”

  “I see.”

  A lump formed in his throat. He had underestimated Duke.

  If he was going to help protect Annie, he needed to make sure he never did that again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Duke glanced at his dashboard. The clock on his patrol unit read twelve-thirty. If he went home now, he could get about five hours of sleep before his shift started again. He took a swig from his cola bottle and swallowed his medicine. The rum burned his throat on the way down.

  Annie’s words echoed in his mind.

  Why don’t you take your medicine?

  Because he wasn’t crazy. He didn’t need his medicine, despite what she or his dad said, and he wasn’t the black sheep in the family. He’d show his parents when he became Sherriff. Hell, he’d show them all.

  “Damn you, Annie.” He slapped his steering wheel and screamed. “Where the hell are you, huh?”

  The minute his dad got wind she’d run off, he’d blame him. Give him the whole, can’t win a campaign without a wife bullshit. Like he didn’t already know that.