“Yeah, I know. I, um, forgot to wash my clothes, so everything else was dirty except for this.”
Awkward.
Fortunately, she accepts the lie without question. “When ah the pancakes gonna be done?”
“First batch is coming up right now!” I singsong, reaching for the spatula to scoop two smallish disks onto her plate. I hand them to Tank, who brings them over to Wren along with the kid-sized plastic silverware he has for her. He puts a pat of butter on each cake, and then I watch in amusement as Wren grabs the fake syrup bottle and flips it completely upside-down over the plate without a second’s hesitation.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tank interjects, grabbing the bottle from her. “This isn’t pancake soup, Wren. Here, let’s do it together.” He holds it upright in front of her, waits for her to put her hands around it, and tips the syrup to about a ninety-degree angle. Together, they drizzle a reasonable amount of syrup over the pancakes.
And I, on the other side of the kitchen, watch the two of them and hope my ovaries don’t explode from the sight.
Wren digs happily into her breakfast, and Tank sets the syrup bottle down in the middle of the table, just out of her reach. He comes over to join me by the stove. “You want coffee?”
“That would be great.” I continue to make pancakes, piling them on a serving plate as I go, and by the time I have enough, Tank sets a steaming mug of joe on the counter for me. “You take anything in that?”
“A splash of milk is good.”
He gets it for me, and the two of us sit down at the table with his daughter.
Wren is completely transformed from how she was the first day I met her. It’s almost impossible to imagine this bubbly, chatty little girl as the same one who came into the diner with Tank and wouldn’t talk or look anyone in the eyes. A swell of love makes my heart almost hurt with the force of it.
Tank puts a pile of pancakes on his plate, and proceeds to douse the whole thing with about half a bottle of syrup. I audibly gasp at the sight, and he looks up at me, one brow cocked.
“You got an issue?” he asks.
“Um… I’m not sure you have a lot of moral high ground trying to get your daughter not to overdo it on the syrup,” I point out.
“What can I say?” he asks, eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. “I like sweet things that are bad for me.”
Then… he winks at me. Like, actually winks.
And my insides turn to mush.
“Bad for you?” I mumble, feeling my face heat up. “How so?”
But before he can answer, there’s a loud pounding on the front door that makes all three of us jump.
Tank stands up with a frown. “I don’t know who the he— who that is,” he rumbles. “But it better be good.”
He stalks toward the door, leaving the two of us at the table. I look at Wren and give her a silly smile. She giggles, then looks pensive.
“Am I a daughter?” she asks me, repeating my words.
My scalp prickles with unease, though I’m not sure why. “Yes, you are,” I reply, because I have no idea what else to tell her.
“What does that mean?”
Oh, God. How dumb am I that I didn’t see that one coming?
“It means…”
But we’re interrupted by male voices coming toward us. Tank appears in the kitchen doorway, followed by one of the men I recognize from running into Tank at Lion’s Tap. He’s handsome and rugged-looking with closely-cropped hair, and he’s wearing his Lords of Carnage cut.
“Striker’s here,” Tank rumbles, looking not too happy. “Striker, you remember Cady…” — he nods toward me — “… and this is Wren.”
“Well, hello, there!” Striker’s face breaks into a wide, mischievous grin. “Sorry to bother y’all, but this one here wasn’t answering his phone.” He jabs a thumb in Tank’s direction. “So this is why you’ve been keepin’ yourself so scarce lately, brother!”
“Watch it,” Tank warns sharply.
But Striker just laughs. “Easy, Tank. I’m just surprised, is all.” He turns to Wren, crouching down so his face is level with hers. “Hey there, little mama. How are you this morning?”
I fully expect Wren to clam up and refuse to answer. But to my surprise, she purses her lips for a second — like she’s sizing him up — and then says, “Fi-i-ine.”
“Looks like you got you some pancakes. They’re my favorite.”
Wren breaks into a smile. “They’re my favorite, too!”
“Well, then, you have good taste! High five!”
He holds up his large hand, and after a second, Wren raises her tiny one and gives him a tap.
“All right!” Striker grins. “You’re a good kid, Wren!” He straightens back up to his full height and turns to me. “Your daughter’s a cutie-pie,” he tells me with a grin.
I open my mouth to reply, but Tank beats me to it.
“Wren’s not Cady’s daughter,” he tells Striker. “She’s mine.”
“What the fu—”
“Watch your mouth,” Tank cuts Striker off.
“Are you serious?” Striker gapes at him.
“Yeah. Didn’t know about it until recently. You remember Jess?”
Striker frowns. “Jess that chick who used to hang around the club? Yeah.”
“She dropped Wren off with me out of the blue a few weeks ago.”
“Tank…” I interject, worried that Wren might hear something that will upset her.
His eyes meet mine, and he gives me a brief nod.
“Anyway,” he exhales. “Striker, go wait for me outside. Cady, can you come into the living room with me for a sec?”
“Nice to see you again, Cady,” Striker rumbles, tipping an imaginary hat at me. He bends down and smiles at Wren. “You eat those all up, now, you hear me?”
She giggles. “I will.”
I follow the two men out to the living room, and watch as Striker goes out through the front door. Tank turns to me.
“Look, something’s come up with the club,” he murmurs. “I have to leave for church. Do you think you could watch Wren for me while I’m gone?”
I gape at him. “You ... go to church?”
Tank lets out a bark of laughter. “Church is what we call a club meeting.”
“Oh.” I’m perplexed. “Why do you call it church?”
“Because it’s held in the chapel. That’s what we call the meeting room.”
I give him a blank look. “Why do you call it a chapel?”
“You’re worse than Wren with all your questions,” he grumps. “Hell if I know why we call it a chapel. We just do.”
“That’s so weird.”
“Whatever. Look, can you take Wren?” He blows out a breath, then lifts a shoulder. “This isn’t how I was hoping today would go, by the way.”
“No?” My heart skips a nervous beat.
“I was hopin’ we could spend the day together, before this. All three of us. You, me, and Wren. I thought maybe we could take her to this petting zoo near Athens I heard about.”
“You are a mess of contradictions, you know that?” I tease him. “Big sexy biker, off to church, then to the petting zoo.”
“I told you what church was,” he shoots back with a smirk.
“I have some errands to run,” I say. “And then I have to work at the diner for a few hours after that. I can take Wren with me, and set her up in a booth like last time. Can I take a rain check on the petting zoo?”
“Sure.” Tank nods. “We’ll do that another time, when it can be all three of us. I think she’d have more fun if you came along.”
“Okay,” I answer, trying to push down the thrill of happiness at his phrasing. All three of us.
Lord help me, I like thinking of us as an us.
Tank crosses the room to and grabs a set of keys from a bowl sitting on a low table. He hands them to me. “You can hang around here as long as you want. Just lock up when you leave. I’ll text you when I’m done.” He takes
a step forward, closing the distance between us. Before I realize what he’s doing, I’m in his arms, and his mouth is on mine. “And speaking of rain checks,” he murmurs against my lips, “I want a rain check for later, to talk about the part where you called me sexy just now. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
A shiver runs down my spine. “That just slipped out,” I murmur, my skin instantly on fire at his touch. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” he says, voice thick. “And I’ll tell you what else. I’m definitely lookin’ forward to getting you alone again. So I can see what else I can get you to say when your defenses are down.”
16
Tank
“You been holding out on me, Tank!” Striker laughs as I stride out the door toward my bike in the driveway.
“What the fuck do you mean?” I retort.
“That.” He lifts his chin toward the house. “This whole secret life, playing family and shit.”
“Fuck you. I ain’t hiding anything.”
“The hell you ain’t. You have a fuckin’ kid?”
“Appears that way,” I say dryly.
“Jesus. And what’s with the chick? Cady? She’s hot as fuck, by the way. You two together now?”
I open my mouth to protest, but what comes out surprises even me.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I think maybe. At least, I think I want to be.”
“Holy shit!” He folds his arms across his chest and stares at me. “It’s like someone kidnapped my brother Tank, and left his bizarro world twin in his place.”
“You got a problem with this?” I challenge.
“Nah. Actually, you looked happy back there. Less like a grumpy asshole. If you’re gettin’ laid on the regular, that can only be good for the rest of us.”
“Fuck you, man,” I shoot back as he starts to laugh. “So, what’s up that Angel needs us for church?”
“Not sure.” Striker lifts his leg and straddles his Harley. “All I know is a few of the brothers went to one of our storage facilities and found it broken into. Don’t know much more than that, but I’ll tell you one thing. Beast sounded angry as fuck when he called.”
“Shit,” I mutter as I start up my bike.
When get to the clubhouse, most of the other Lords are already there, judging from the bikes in the parking lot. When we go inside, the main room is quieter than usual, the only person in sight being a prospect at the bar named Grunt. I ignore him and follow Strike into the chapel, where at first I think everyone else is there. It’s only when Striker and I take our seats that I notice the empty chairs.
“What’s goin’ on?” I lean over to ask Gunner beside me. He’s looking tense and angry. He opens his mouth to speak, but just then Angel bangs the gavel.
“Some of you know what happened already,” he growls in a low, menacing voice. “But for the rest of you, I’ll cut to the chase. I sent some of our men out to the storage facility out in West Hayes, to check on things. When they got there, they found it broken into, and all the weapons stored there were gone.”
“Who…” Striker starts to say, but Angel holds up a hand and glares at him.
“On the way back, the men were ambushed,” he continues. “They were out in the open on their bikes. No cover, no time to prepare. Tweak, Hale, Ghost, and Brick managed to get out with minor injuries. They were near Connegut, so they went there to the safe house. Smiley and Lucy are patching them up there,” he continues, referring to our resident doc and his old lady — who’s a nurse, and also Gunner’s mom.
“But that’s not the worst of it.” Angel pauses, his jaw ticking. He glances at Gunner. “Lug Nut was hit. Died at the scene.”
Jesus fuck. No wonder Gunner looks the way he does. Lug Nut was his brother-in-law. Gunner’s old lady Alix’s sister Eden is Lug Nut’s wife.
“God damn,” Hawk hisses, shaking his head.
Gunner unclenches his teeth. “Eden’s pregnant with their first kid,” he grits out. “She and Lug just told us at dinner last weekend.”
There’s a moment of heavy silence around the table.
“The club will take care of her,” Angel says fiercely. “We’ll make sure she and the baby have everything they need. No matter what.”
Murmurs of agreement greet his words.
“Do we know who did this?” I ask. “Anyone see anything?”
“Nothing concrete. I talked to Ghost. He said whoever they were weren’t wearing colors.”
“Fuckin’ cowards,” seethes Striker beside me.
“There’s something else,” Angel continues. “Rojo called me earlier. Says the Death Devils clubhouse was torched.”
He doesn’t say anything more, but he doesn’t have to. We’re all wondering the same thing: whether the two events are connected.
The club goes back and forth for a while, arguing about next steps. Angel and Beast tell us to remain vigilant, and Angel reminds us to clear any travel outside of Tanner Springs with him first.
“And don’t leave Tanner Springs wearing our colors under any circumstances, unless it’s on official club business. Report anything out of the ordinary to Beast or me immediately. Tweak’s getting back to the clubhouse later tonight.” He pauses. “We’re gonna go through all the surveillance footage we have set up at every facility we have. Rojo is doing the same, what’s left of it.” Angel’s steely eyes range over us. “Those motherfuckers have to have left a clue somewhere. And when we find it, they’ll be breathing their last goddamn breaths. Every single motherfucking one of them.”
By the time church is finally over, it’s nighttime. I wait with the other men until Tweak gets back to the clubhouse, so I can hear the story from him and get updates on my other brothers at Connegut. Gunner goes back to his place, where a bunch of the other old ladies are gathered with Alix and Eden.
I text Cady, and she tells me she’s with Wren at my house. When I get there, I find the two of them sleeping on the couch, some animated movie playing on the television. I stand in the doorway for a moment, just staring at the two of them. The scene looks so peaceful. So normal. I feel a wave of thankfulness that both my girls are here and that they’re safe.
Whoa. My girls. Where did that come from?
As quietly as I can, I lean down over the couch and gently kiss Cady on the forehead. She stirs, then blinks her eyes open and looks up at me. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey. How was your night?”
“Good.” Cady smiles sleepily. “Wren and I made cookies. Peanut butter chocolate chip. Her choice.”
“That sounds nice.” I glance over at Wren. “I’m gonna carry her to bed.”
Cady reaches over for the remote and shuts off the TV. “You need any help with her?”
“Nah,” I murmur. “You already got her in her PJ’s. We can skip brushing her teeth until the morning.”
I lift Wren’s sleeping form and carry her down the hall, making sure to muffle the sound of my boots on the floor. I almost manage not to disturb her sleep, but she stirs just as I set her down on the bed. She lets out a small, adorable groan.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I croon. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“That’s okay.” She raises a fist to rub one of her eyes. “I was twying to wait up for you.”
“That’s nice of you, sweetheart, but you don’t have to do that. I’ll always come home, and you can see me in the morning.”
She gives me a sleepy nod and yawns. “Tank?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are you my daddy?”
The question puts a lump of emotion in my throat.
“Yes, kiddo, I am,” I say around it.
“How come I don’t call you Daddy, then?” Her eyes are open now, and she blinks at me, staring.
For a second, I don’t know what to say. “I don’t know how come. Do you want to?”
Wren nods, her big eyes locked on mine. Without warning, I almost lose it.
“Well, then,” I croak, my
eyes stinging. “I want you to, too. Will you call me Daddy?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Give me a hug, baby,” I murmur, taking her in my arms. She wraps them around my neck, and I inhale the smell that I’ve come to recognize as distinctly hers.
My daughter.
When she lets go, I settle her back onto her pillow and pull the covers up around her. I’m just about to tell her goodnight when she asks me another question that stops me in my tracks.
“Is Cady my mommy now?”
“I…”
Before I can say anything, Cady herself appears in the doorway. She’s holding Wren’s stuffed dog in one hand.
“Snoopy’s ready for bed, too,” she says, crossing the room. Cady bends down and tucks him in next to my daughter.
“Cady,” Wren asks her, “Are you my mommy now?”
Cady glances at me, and I can tell she heard Wren the first time. Her cheeks flush pink.
“I’m your Cady, sweetie,” she finally says.
Thankfully, Wren seems to accept that for now.
“Goodnight, sweetie,” I tell her.
“Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Cady.”
I stand, and the two of us tiptoe out the door. I leave it open a crack just so I can hear her if she wakes up again.
Cady and I walk down the hall. Back in the living room, she turns to me. To my surprise, I see she’s in tears.
“Hey, hey, hey!” I murmur, crossing to her. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” Cady shakes her head wordlessly as I take her in my arms and gently lead her to the couch. “I… didn’t know what to say to Wren…”
“It’s okay, babe.” I frown in confusion, not understanding why she’s suddenly so upset. “It’s no big deal.”
“I don’t…” A sob cuts her off, and she shakes her head again. Swallowing, she sucks in a deep breath and tries again. “I don’t want to replace her mom. But…”
I feel like I’m in la-la land all of a sudden. I’ve seen Cady pissed off, laughing her head off, aroused, and almost every other emotion in the book right now, but I’ve never seen her cry. It’s worrying me. And it’s even more worrying that I have no idea why.
TANK: Lords of Carnage MC Page 12
