by Chiah Wilder
Tank waved the gun, aiming it at each of them. “I said to get the fuck out of here, and if you don’t, I’ll start shooting. Only this time, I’ll shoot to kill.”
Lena could see the blood streaming down his back, soaking his black T-shirt, and him gripping the edge of the counter with one hand. A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips when two of the men helped Cougar to his feet and walked him out of the restaurant, leaving the biker Tank had shot in the leg to limp behind them. Before he went out the door, he turned and glared at Tank.
“You’re fuckin’ dead,” he said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone that made her shudder.
Once he stepped out the door, Lena ran over and locked it before pulling down the shades. She heard a crash behind her and spun around, just as Tank collapsed to the floor.
“Tank!” Dropping to her knees, she bent over his bloody body and felt his forehead. It was clammy and hot, and his face had a grayish pallor to it.
“Do you hear me, Tank?” She stroked his skin with her hand. “Sweetie, you’re going to be okay.” You have to be. She swallowed down the lump in her throat as panic seized her. You can’t give up now.
She looked back at the door. What if they come back with others to kill him? Their threats—no promises—still rang in her ears. Stop thinking about the what-ifs and do something. Getting her bearings, she searched through his jean pockets until she found his phone. Scrolling through the names in his directory, she called the first weird name she saw—Maniac.
“What’s up?”
“Hi. You don’t know me, but I got your number from Tank’s phone. He’s hurt real bad.”
“Is he at the restaurant?”
“Yes. Cougar and the others came and… he’s hurt. I don’t know what to do. I’d call the police but—”
“Don’t call the fuckin’ badges. I’ll take care of it. Sit tight.”
Then the connection went dead.
Lena jumped up and went to the kitchen to get some towels and the first aid kit. When she came back into the restaurant, she knelt beside him and placed a few towels under his head to help stop the bleeding. Gently wiping his face with a warm washcloth, she cleaned off the dried blood, then addressed the cuts on his face and arms. Seeing his swollen eyes and bruised face made her heart ache.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt, sweetie. You were trying to protect me.” Lowering her head, she kissed his lips. “I’ve missed you. You have to hang on—your friends are coming.”
In the distance, she heard the wail of sirens and cursed under her breath. Who the hell called the sheriff? Just then, a loud rumble rattled the windows. Rushing over to the door, she peeked through the shades and gasped at the sight of the motorcycles lining the street, and the ten tough-looking bikers in leather vests walking toward the bistro’s door. The pounding of her heart filled her ears. They’ve come back to kill him. Shit! What am I going to do? She thought quickly. The gun! She started to run back over to Tank’s crumpled body when a loud knock on the door made her scream.
“It’s Maniac.”
Slowly unlocking and opening the door, he looked past her to Tank’s crumpled body. He quickly brushed past her, and the other men followed suit until they were all hovering around Tank.
“He’s got a severe wound on the back of his head. I tried to stop the bleeding.” she told him.
“How many were there besides Cougar?” Maniac asked.
“Three. They said they were going to kill him, and they meant it.”
“Of course they did,” a blond-haired biker growled.
“He’s going to need a doctor,” she said weakly.
“Scalpel’s on his way.”
The sirens sounded closer, and Maniac looked over at her.
“I didn’t call them. I don’t know who did, I swear.”
“No worries. We’ll take care of them.” A man with short, spikey hair walked out with three other men.
Lena had no idea what had been said outside in front of the restaurant. All she knew was that Sheriff Windsor and three deputies left the area without even coming into the eatery. She overheard the spikey-haired biker tell Maniac that the sheriff was going to be calling someone named Hammer.
For the next half hour, the bikers busied themselves cleaning up the bistro until it looked like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Scalpel, who Lena had learned was a real doctor, had Tank in a medical van, working on his injuries. Lena sat in a white, wrought iron chair, chewing on her cuticles as she waited to hear how Tank was doing.
Maniac came up to her. “You’re not safe here, and neither is Tank. We’ll take you both to a safe haven.”
Lena’s stomach clenched. “I can’t go. I have a business to run. I have, and events to cater.”
Maniac nodded. “You can stay, but we need to know who to inform about your death.”
The blood drained from her face. “You’re going to kill me if I don’t go?”
“Not us—Cougar and the others. We got some heavy shit going on. I’m trying to keep you safe because I know Tank would want that.”
“What happens to my business?”
“We’ll have a couple of people keep watch on it. Just tell your help you’re going on a vacation. You can’t tell anyone what happened here, but I’m sure you know that since your Tank’s woman.”
Tank’s woman. I like the sound of that.
“How long do we have to stay there?”
“Until it’s safe, which we’re hoping won’t be too long. I can’t say anything more about it.”
Scalpel walked in, putting an end to her questioning of Maniac. When the doctor went over to the biker, she took a few steps closer to hear what he had to say. She’d caught on that none of them were keen on sharing any information with her.
“The wound to the back of his head is minor, but the knife wound right above his shoulder blades is where the blood’s coming from. I stitched it up, but there’s still a risk of infection. His legs got pretty messed up. I’m not sure what happened there, but I stitched up the deeper cuts. He’ll need someone to stay with him for the next week or so to make sure he’s okay.”
Maniac nodded. “His woman’s gonna take care of him.”
“That’s good. Give her my number, and have her call me if there’s a problem.”
“Can he be moved to the SUV?”
“Yeah. Just lay the seats flat. He’s still out of it. He’s got a temperature, and I gave him some medication for his pain. I know you’ll disagree, but he should be in a hospital, at least for the next forty-eight hours.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Maniac gripped the doctor’s shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
The doctor nodded and walked away, and several bikers followed him outside.
An hour later, Lena was in a cottage by the ocean in a coastal town she’d never heard of. The beachy décor surprised her, and she figured the bikers’ wives or girlfriends must’ve had a hand in fixing it up.
In less than twenty-four hours, her world had turned upside down. It was unbelievable and surreal. She padded back to the bedroom and scooted the chair closer to the bed Tank lay on his side, sleeping. Gently smoothing back his hair, she placed a cool, damp cloth over his forehead. The doctor had told her to watch his fever, and instructed her on what to do, how much medication to give, and how often to change and dress his wounds. She’d already set her phone alarm to wake her up every three hours to check up on him.
Lena ran her fingers lightly down his arms and smiled when she felt the goose bumps on his skin. Dipping her head down, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek and whispered, “I love you,” into his ear. Pulling a light blanket over her, she leaned back in the cushy chair and closed her eyes.
Tank
Over the next several days, Tank drifted in and out of a burning sea of fog. Shadowy figures hovered over him, soft hands stroked him, and muffled voices whispered through his ears. Pain rippled through his body, and as hard as he tried, he couldn’t climb out of bed to ease his muscles
. It was like he was stuck in quicksand and couldn’t get out.
The burning fever that had been his companion for days had finally broken. Opening his eyes, he took in the room that seemed foreign and familiar at the same time. Where the hell am I? A carousel of images spun through his head. Demon swinging a chain. Him choking Fire. Lena bringing down a rolling pin on Rubble’s skull. A slow grin spread across his face, but he grimaced at the ache on the right side of his mouth. An explosion of pain tore through his body as he struggled to move. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up, then fell back against the headboard panting, and sweating profusely.
“Fuck.”
After a while of working himself up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand, but his knees buckled beneath him. To keep from landing on the floor, he grabbed hold of the nightstand and used it to thrust his ass back on the bed.
“Double fuck!”
Not intending to give up, he waited to get his breathing under control and pushed up to a sitting position. With all the strength he could muster, he planted his feet on the floor and groaned as he got himself up, using the nightstand for balance.
“This is pussy bullshit,” he wheezed.
“What are you doing?”
Tank looked over and saw Lena crossing the room, wearing a pair of denim shorts and a fuchsia crop top.
“Hey.”
A smile lit up her face. “You’re finally awake. Finally. You’ve been out of it for days.” Rushing over, she put her arm around his waist. “Here, let me help you.”
“I smell like ass. I need a shower.”
“Okay. Can you hold on for a second? Scalpel brought a pair of crutches and a cane for you to use when you were up and about.”
“I don’t need that shit.”
“Yes, you do. This isn’t about proving you’re a badass. This is about healing and getting better. Don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those pain in the butt patients?”
A smile twitched on his lips. “Still a smartass, even when I’m on death’s door.”
“Just don’t move,” she commanded before scurrying out of the room.
Has she been here the whole time? The memory of gentle hands caressing his skin, and whispers in his ear flowed through his mind. She’s been the one taking care of me. Elation rushed through him. Tank had told himself he wasn’t going to fall for her. He tried damn hard not to, but she’d slipped into his heart. When he’d told Quinn that he loved Lena, it wasn’t just Quinn who had been shocked. The realization that he loved Lena hit him like a ton of bricks, but he wasn’t sure how she felt. Yeah, she was taking care of him, but it could have been out of pity.
“Here you are,” she said as she entered the room with crutches under her arm and a cane in her hand. “Which do you prefer? The crutches will be steadier, but may hurt because of the stitches between your shoulder blades.”
“I’ll take the cane.” He winked slyly at her. “Do you want to wash me down?”
“Nice try. Leave the door cracked and I’ll keep my ears open. If you’re getting nauseous or dizzy, call out for me, okay?”
He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m not sure if I like you better quiet or ornery.” She pointed to the en suite bathroom. “Now go.”
“You just love being bossy,” he grumbled as he limped into the bathroom.
After a steamy shower and a shave, he felt a hundred percent better. When he went back into the bedroom, a pair of sweats and a T-shirt lay folded on the bed. After a few minutes of cussing up a storm, he was finally dressed, and made his way out of the room.
The smell of bacon wafted down the hallway. Following it into a small kitchen, he found Lena with a frying pan in one hand, and a long fork in the other as she bent over the stove.
“Smells good.”
She looked over her shoulder, her chestnut eyes sparkling. “And you look good. How was the shower?”
“Great. How long have I been out of it?” Hobbling over to the chair, he plopped down onto it.
“Five days. Scalpel was ready to take you to the hospital, but Maniac and Lynch wanted to wait a couple more days. Those guys seem to have a phobia about hospitals.”
Tank laughed. “Look at you, their names just rolling off your tongue. We only go to hospitals if Scalpel demands that it’s dire.”
She placed a glass of orange juice and a small plate of cut-up pineapple and mango slices in front of him. “I’m getting used to the weird names of your friends. Dawson is the only one that makes sense.”
Another laugh burst through his lips. “If you knew the guys, their names would make sense too.”
“I get Scalpel, but I don’t even want to know why Maniac, Lynch, or Reaper make sense—it’s too scary.”
“And so are they, sometimes.” Picking up his glass, he drank the juice in one long gulp. “That was damn good.”
“Freshly squeezed—way better than the carton stuff. I hope you like eggs Benedict. I didn’t have Canadian bacon, so I had to improvise.”
“Anything you cook is fuckin’ good, darlin’.”
“It better be, especially after all that money and time spent in Paris.” She joked.
He gave her a serious look. “I’d like to ride around France, Italy, and England. Maybe we can do that sometime.”
Lena put a piece of bacon in her mouth and chewed slowly. “Maybe. The best part of living in France for four years was that I was able to travel all around Europe and the UK. It was pretty awesome. I can see where it would be fun to ride a motorcycle through the back roads and countryside.”
“I’d like it. But then, I like going anywhere with you on the back of my bike.”
“I liked the times we rode around the county,” she said, placing a plate of eggs Benedict in front of him.
She’s being noncommittal as fuck. Picking up his fork, he cut into the egg and looked up. “So, how long have you been hanging around here?”
“Ever since your friends brought us here.”
“Yeah, where is here?”
“You don’t know? Maniac called it the safe haven.”
Tank leaned back in the chair and laughed. “That’s fucked. I knew it looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”
“Well, in your defense, you were in a helluva fight.”
Nodding, he took another bite. “It also looks different. Last time I was here, there was hardly any furniture, all of which came from garage sales.”
“I’m sure the wives fixed the place up. It’s real cozy. The beach is our front yard.”
“Yeah. The house has been with the club for over fifty years.”
“So the title’s in the club’s name?”
“Not exactly.”
“How’s it titled, then?”
He kept eating.
“Let me guess”—she waved her fork at him— “you can’t tell me.”
“You’re catching on.”
A knock came at the door.
Lena jumped up, and Tank grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t go,” he said in a low voice.
“Why? It’s cool.”
“We don’t know that?”
“What does that mean?”
“It could be one of the fuckers, that’s what.”
The muscles in her face went slack. “Oh,” she said.
Tank struggled for a second then pushed up from the chair and went over the drawers. “Where are the knives?” he asked glancing over his shoulder at her.
“In the top drawer to the left of the sink,” she answered weakly.
He took out a straight edged one then turned. “You stay here.” With knife in hand, he walked slowly toward the front door, wishing he had his gun on him.
Another knock hit the wooden door.
Tank look through the peephole and saw Raptor standing there with one hand flat against the stucco wall. He threw open the door and held up the knife.
He laughed. “You almost had this in your gut.”
>
Raptor looked at Tank’s cane and healing face and shook his head. “Nah, I could’ve flatten you out with one hand.”
“Fuck that.” He moved aside as the president entered the house.
“What took you so long? I thought some shit was going on inside.” He pulled out his Glock. “I was ready to come in shooting.”
Tank pointed to the cane. “This is a pain in the ass to walk with, but for now, it helps me to get around. Let’s go in the kitchen.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Raptor said.
“Me too. Hell, I didn’t even know where the hell I was when I woke up.”
Lena had cleared the plates and was by a sink filled with soapy water. She looked and Raptor and smiled.
“Hi. I’m Lena.” She wiped her wet hands on a dish towel and started to come toward the biker.
“Hi.” Raptor turned to Tank. “We need to talk.”
“Lena, go take a walk on the beach or hang on the patio.”
“But I’m washing the dishes.”
“That can wait.” He caught her gaze and fixed it there, hoping she’d catch on.
Nodding, Lena put the dish towel down on the counter. “Okay.”
Raptor waited until she walked outside before settling down on the kitchen chair. “You look good, considering the beating you got. Your woman’s taking good care of you.”
“Yeah. How are the fuckers?”
“Demon needed stitches. The blade your woman stuck into him didn’t cause too much damage. Rubble’s got some issues going on with his head, Fire’s okay, but Cougar’s fucked up. You hit him damn hard in the head.”
“What’s the club saying?”
“About you crossing the fuckin’ line?”
“I didn’t cross shit. Only four or five members want the shit Hammer’s doing.”
“He’s the VP. You also knew that I okayed the protection money.”
Tank looked away and saw Lena sitting on a chaise lounge on the back patio. “I didn’t agree with it,” he said.
“It wasn’t your decision.”
He focused back on Raptor. “The club didn’t vote on it. It’s in the bylaws that we need to vote on shit like that. Hammer made the decision and you let it go because you didn’t want to deal with it. I get your son’s sick, I really do, but you turned your back on the club … and you fuckin’ know it.”
