by Chiah Wilder
Groaning, Lena rolled her eyes. “Must you remind me?”
“Someone has to keep you on track, especially now.”
That sobering thought twisted her stomach into knots.
“Yeah, you’re right. I should get to bed.”
“And sleep?”
Lena held up three fingers and giggled. “Scout’s honor.”
“If you can’t sleep, take an anxiety pill or something. The last thing you need is to run your body down. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow. Text me when you get inside your condo.”
“I will. Bye.”
“Sleep tight.”
Lena sighed. It seemed weird that Felicia hadn’t brought up Tank once during their conversation. Bringing him up had become Felicia’s new thing whenever they’d talk, yet she didn’t mention him at all.
Which left Lena thinking about it—and ultimately, him. Scrolling through her contacts, she found his name and stared at her phone, wanting to call him. Too many times she had reached for her phone to do so, but hadn’t. The thought that she might never kiss him again made her feel hollow inside. Too often, her mind wandered, until she was lost in the memories of being with him. When he kissed her, held her tight, and murmured softly in her ear, she felt desired and safe.
But at the moment, there were enough complications in her life, and she couldn’t handle anymore. Maybe when the nightmare with the bikers was over, she’d be ready to foster a relationship with him.
Pocketing her phone, she started the SUV and pulled onto the road.
Tank
The Devil’s Surfboard was a hole-in-the wall restaurant that catered to the biker clientele. The ribs were juicy, the beer was cheap, and the waitresses were easy, which was the perfect combination for outlaw bikers.
Standing at the head of a table, in front of a dozen Jagged Outlaw members, Tank cleared his throat as he scanned their tense faces. He’d called the impromptu meeting to discuss what Raptor had told him a few days before, and he wanted to see where their loyalties lay.
“Is Raptor coming tonight?” Neon asked.
Tank snatched his beer off the table and drained the bottle in one long swig. Wiping a hand across his mouth, he paused for a few seconds, then placed his hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “No, he’s not.”
Neon pounded the table with his fists. “What the fuck’s his deal?”
“Calm the fuck down and give Tank a chance to speak,” Maniac said. “He’s the one who talked to the prez, so let’s hear what he has to say.”
“Raptor not being here says it all,” Neon growled.
“He’s right,” Ice huffed. A few of the brothers nodded their heads, muttering their agreement.
“Yeah, Raptor should be here,” Tank said, “but he’s not, and we know that’s the fuckin’ problem. I went by his house on Sunday and he’s in a bad way. His boy’s real sick, and he’s waiting for a bone marrow transplant.”
Running his hands over his face, Reaper sighed. “That’s gotta fuckin’ suck. I can’t imagine what I’d do if any of my kids had cancer. I know I’d want to be with them all the time if I could.”
“So what the fuck are you saying?” Neon’s tone was fierce. “Raptor’s okay to let Hammer destroy the brotherhood?”
Reaper narrowed his eyes. “Fuck no. I’m saying that Raptor needs to step down and appoint someone to take his place. But the way he’s handling it, is pussy bullshit, and it’s pissing everyone off. That shit’s no good. Brothers who were loyal to him are starting to stray toward Hammer.”
“We don’t need that fucker taking over,” Axle grumbled.
“But he’s gonna,” Tank said. All eyes reverted to him. “Raptor knows about the protection bullshit.”
Maniac jerked his head back. “And he’s all right with it?”
Tank pursed his lips and nodded.
Neon jumped to his feet and waved his arms. “He’s gone fuckin’ mental!”
Some people in the restaurant looked over at the Jagged Outlaws’ table.
Tank narrowed his eyes. “Sit the fuck down. We don’t need anyone knowing our business.”
Neon returned his look and sank back down in the chair. “Raptor needs to go.”
“I agree,” Maniac added.
Tank clenched his jaw. He felt torn between his loyalty to Raptor and his loyalty to the brotherhood. Raptor had guided him and supported him when Tank was new to the club, and then when he’d decided to go nomad. He hated the position he was in, but Raptor had shirked his presidential responsibilities, making a tough situation even worse.
“We’re all tight with Raptor, and this is fuckin’ hard for all of us.” Maniac fixed his gaze on Tank.
“I know, but Raptor’s got too much on his plate, and he’s letting Hammer do what he wants.”
“He’s abandoning the club.” Ice took out a cigarette and lit it. “So there’s no way he’s that fuckin’ stupid to think we’re gonna let Hammer and the others destroy it.”
“He said the extortion is necessary because the club’s broke.”
Maniac frowned. “That’s fuckin’ bullshit, and I outta know. I’m the damn treasurer.”
A sudden coldness hit at Tank’s core. “Raptor said the club owes the Insurgents on a weed deal and Romano for arms.”
“I arranged to pay off the Insurgents in payments. I set it up with their prez, Panther. He was cool with it.”
“Did Raptor know about it?”
“Fuck yeah. Everything that goes through the club has to get his approval.”
Ice looked pissed. “He lied to you, dude.”
“Seems that way. His boy’s illness has him all fucked-up in the head.”
“Which makes Hammer even more dangerous.” Snake, the club’s enforcer, rose to his feet. “The club’s going down a fucked-up path. Hammer’s got seven solid members backing him, and a few are on the fence.”
“Cougar and Rubble are collecting the protection money on Main Street,” Ice said.
“Do you know which building?”
Ice looked at Maniac. “Which one is it?”
“The one Fitzgerald doesn’t own. The greedy sonofabitch wants to raze the block this building is on and turn it into apartments, shops, and some other shit. The owner of the building doesn’t wanna sell, so Hammer offered our services to force the businesses out.”
“How much are Cougar and Rubble collecting?”
“Fifteen percent of gross every two weeks.”
Tank rubbed his chin as he thought about that. “How many businesses is the club strong-arming?”
Maniac took a moment to think about it. “Twelve or so.”
“Fuck, that’s a lot of dough.”
“Yeah, and there’s no way Hammer’s stopping at that. I heard Cougar talking with Fire the other day about how he was gonna pay a visit to some shopkeepers in Imperial Beach.”
“And Hammer’s too greedy to stop,” Snake pointed out.
“The asshole is taking the club in a direction that’s gonna fuck up the tacit deal we’ve got going with the town council. If that’s done, we’re gonna have the fuckin’ feds breathing down our backs like we did in the old days.” Fester was the only member at the table who’d been around under Skull’s presidency. “It was bad back then. A lot of brothers lost their lives in turf wars, and others had their asses in the joint for years. Hell, some of them are still in there. Raptor turned the club around after his old man stepped down, and I’m fuckin’ crushed to see him throw it to the side.”
“Me too, bro,” Tank said in a low voice. The other members at the table murmured their agreement.
A few moments of silence fell over the group as they contemplated the situation.
Finally, Tank cleared his throat. “I think Raptor’s not in the best headspace to be an active president.” He motioned the waitress for another beer. “Fuck, this is hard to say.”
Snake pushed up from his chair. “We feel your pain, bro, but it’s gotta be said.”
>
“Yeah, but it’s like I’m—we’re—putting a knife in Raptor’s back.”
“It’s the one he put in our hands, buddy. There’s no way in hell he doesn’t think we’re gonna push him out. He told you all that shit about Hammer because he wanted to rile you up so you’d tell us then we’d do something to save the club.” Snake crossed his arms. “Don’t you see? Raptor’s given us the green light.”
“There’s no fuckin’ way he wants Hammer as president. The club’s in his damn blood, and he used to talk about making it better once his old man was outta the picture,” Fester said. “Snake’s right—Raptor wants us to put the club back to where it should be.”
“Here you go, sweetie,” the busty barmaid chirped as she handed Tank the beer bottle, along
with a folded piece of paper. “Call me, handsome. I can show you a good time.” With a wink, she turned around and walked away, her hips shifting sensually with every step she took.
Snake chuckled. “Looks like you’re gonna get some pussy outta this.”
Shrugging off the comment, Tank picked up the bottle and a took a sip. “You make a good point, Fester. Raptor’s too fuckin’ proud to step down on his own, so he wants us to do it for him. I don’t think he’ll give us any trouble when the time comes.”
“We need to take care of this shit now!” Neon yelled from the far end of the table. “If we wait around, more members are gonna side with Hammer. No fucking way, man!”
Tank muttered under his breath and took another sip of his beer, weighing his answer.
“No, we’re not ready. We can’t act on emotion. This is a mission. We do this just like any other deal we have in the club: cool, detached, and collected are what rules.”
“Tank’s right,” Snake said.
Neon rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on a chair. “Yeah, yeah. I get you.”
“Right now, Raptor’s not stepping down as president. That was damn clear when I went to his house yesterday. He’s distracted and fucking set on not making waves right now because he’s got enough shit to deal with, but he’s not giving complete control to that asshole. Once we get a plan and someone to lead the club, Raptor will step down, I know it. So, are we all in?”
There were shouts of agreement down the length of the table. Everyone was on board to fuck shit up when the time was right. They had a good handful of members on Raptor’s side, and more than half the club was willing to put their asses on the line to keep the club running as it was, and not like it had been during Skull’s regime. Yesterday proved to Tank that the club couldn’t count on Raptor to be the stronger leader he’d once been, so in order to keep some of the members from going over to Hammer’s court, they needed to get an interim president to take over for Raptor as soon as possible. Maybe he’d pay Raptor another visit and feel him out. If Snake was right about him being too proud to admit he couldn’t run the club anymore, then an interim president could be the solution. And if Nick beat the cancer, and Raptor wanted to take his presidential seat again, then all would be good.
“I need to talk to Raptor about appointing someone to take his place for now,” Tank said.
Snake nodded. “Yeah, that may work. It could be a temporary position until Raptor gets his shit together, but if things go badly with his little boy, then whoever’s president will stay.”
“You don’t think Raptor will tell Hammer what’s going on?” Neon asked.
Anger had Tank nearly rising out of his chair and across the table. “What the fuck? Raptor’s no traitor!”
“Raptor was raised in the club, and he wants what’s best for the brotherhood,” Maniac calmly interjected.
“But he lied to Tank about the money. He gave the okay to Hammer to shake down hard-working citizens. I don’t know…” Neon’s words trailed off.
Snake slapped the table. “Raptor’s solid.”
“One hundred percent,” Fester seconded.
Tank leaned back in his seat. “Does anyone else think the way Neon is?”
Ice gave a chin lift. “I can see where Neon’s coming from. I’m gonna admit, I’ve got my doubts.”
“Let’s take a vote. All those in favor of Tank speaking to Raptor about a temp prez, raise your fists.” Snake was the first to raise his.
In the end, three out of twelve had misgivings about trusting Raptor to stay true to them and the club. Since the majority ruled, the consensus was that Tank would speak with Raptor.
“The only thing we got left to settle are the candidates to take Raptor’s place. Let’s think about it, then we can meet back here next week. I’d like to have some members to offer up to him.”
“We may have someone in mind,” Snake stated matter-of-factly.
“Sounds like a plan.” Maniac looked around the room that had filled up since the group had first arrived. “There’re some cute sweet pieces hanging out at the bar.”
Fester rolled his head. “Not for me. I’m gonna have one more beer and head home.”
Snake chuckled. “Your old lady would kill you if she ever caught you looking at another chick.”
“What can I say? My woman’s crazy about me.”
The men guffawed, and then the conversation turned to motorcycles.
Tank took a long pull of his beer and looked out over the moonlit beach as his brothers talked amongst themselves. Staring at the ocean was a woman on the beach with her back to him. Tracing her ass with his eyes, a slow grin eased across his lips.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” he mumbled under his breath. He downed the rest of his beer and rose to his feet. “I’m outta here. Keep me in the loop if anymore shit goes down.”
“You got that look in your eye, bro. Are you gonna duck in the back for a quickie with that big-tittied waitress?” Snake asked.
“Not exactly.” Picking up his beer bottle, he threw a ten-dollar bill on the table.
The gritty strains of hard rock music filtered down to the beach as Tank strode over to the familiar woman with the fine ass and high ponytail throwing stones into the water.
There’s no fuckin’ way. This is too perfect.
“Well, out of all the beaches in the county, we end up at the same one.”
Looking over her shoulder, Lena smiled at him, but her eyes were troubled.
“Hi,” she breathed, then looked back at the water. Her shoulders slumped forward as she stood on the sand, perfectly still.
Putting his hand on her shoulder, he squeezed gently.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer.
“Hey, you can tell me what’s bothering you.” He tried to turn her toward him, but she wouldn’t budge. “Lena, it’s okay.”
Suddenly, she jerked away and spun around, her chin raised in the air, glaring at him in defiance.
He took a step back and put his hands up. “Whoa. I’m not trying to give you a hard time or anything. I was hangin’ with my bros and saw you, and just came over to say hey.”
Lena sniffled and wiped her nose, then folded her arms under her chest as she stared up at him. “Sorry. I’m in a shit mood. I came out here for a little peace and quiet. It’s been a crazy week so far.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The question surprised the hell out of him, and he thought he must’ve lost his fucking mind. He couldn’t remember when he’d given a shit about a woman unless someone was hurting her, insulting her, or she was riding his dick. After his divorce, those had become the three terms of interaction. And at the moment, he was crossing that line while he watched Lena’s face crumple a little around the edges. There was obviously something wrong, that was clear as hell, and it killed him to see her upset.
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”
Grunting, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can tell something’s bothering you.”
She took a seat down in the sand, wrapping her arms around her legs and hugging her knees to her chest. Lena kept staring out at the
ocean, and he kept staring at her, unable to rip his attention away from her sad expression. When she looked up at him through her lashes, his damn heart fell to his feet, and he almost couldn’t breathe. She’s so damn gorgeous. He couldn’t leave her like this, alone.
“Fine. If you won’t talk, we’ll sit. I’ve got nothin’ to do.”
Tank eased his ass onto the sand next to her, making sure there was plenty of room between them. Wanting to give her time, he looked up at the stars, knowing that eventually, she would come around. If she didn’t want to talk at all, well, at least she knew he was there.
Fuck, the last time he’d been this consumed by a woman’s feelings was when he was married. After that clusterfuck, he’d sworn not to get invested again. Too many women out there played mind games and loved taking men for a long ride off a short pier. His ex-wife had made it damn clear that he was nothing but a walking wallet with arms, and she had screwed with his head in the process. Yeah, Trish had been a neurotic piece of work, with all the major hallmarks of a true fucking crazy, jealous, lying cheat.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Tank muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand down the back of his neck as a shudder ripped down his spine at the mere thought of her and that time in his life.
Lena looked over at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Ducking his head, he looked at the silver moonlight shimmering on the water.
“You really don’t have to be here. I’m fine.” Her voice was strangled with emotion.
“I know.”
After what seemed like an hour, he heard her shift. From the corner of his eye, he saw her scoot closer, the low sound of sand scraping against her shorts melting into the humid air. He remained still and quiet, worried he would spook her.
“I guess…” Her words trailed off, but he didn’t pressure to her to continue.
They remained still, and he breathed in deep, wondering how long they were going to sit there while she worked through whatever was going on in her head.
“I miss my parents. I’m having a hard time with it, and I thought getting out of my condo might do me some good.”
