Expose

by C. D. Breadner

  The relief when he woke was like pulling on a warm sweater and a jolt of caffeine all at once. The haze of the past few weeks was gone as soon as he's spoken. It was good to have him kiss and hold her but, in some perverted way, his sex noises were part of how she defined him to herself. When he was finally able to fool around in his hospital bed that was when she really knew he was going to heal up just fine.

  Her big bear of a man wasn't himself, though, and that was scaring her. There had been relief on his face when they assured him his hand was going to be fine, but he wasn't talking much. The doctors had told them there was always a chance for brain damage, but she hadn't considered that possibility.

  And it wasn't that he was stupid or strange. He had trouble speaking and the words came slowly, which frustrated him. And the frustration, in turn, made speaking even more difficult.

  The doctors wanted him to see specialists but he refused. When he had really bad days, he would sit in bed and scowl out the window.

  Usually she could cheer him up. She'd tell him a stupid story from when she was growing up and that would get him laughing, the twinkle back in his eye, then he'd need to hold her and make out for a while. When he was relaxed his speech seemed easier, but that only seemed to happen when they were alone, cuddling and discussing nothing in particular.

  When his mood was really dark, she'd shut the door and take off her clothes. That always brought him back around again.

  When they released him from the hospital after two miserable weeks of him being awake, an entire month after his attack, Buck brought him his cowboy hat to wear, cover up the third of his scalp that had been shaved. That helped get him out of the room, even though he had to stammer out his thanks.

  No one said a word about his speech problems, which was something that endeared the entire club to her immediately. Even if they were all incorrect in assuming it was something that would come back eventually, it was an act of a true family.

  Buck had also brought Tank his pickup. The doctors had suggested waiting to drive, but that wasn't negotiable. He'd stay off the bike for a while, but he was driving his truck. She didn't even argue. He hadn't had any fainting spells the whole time he'd been waiting to be released.

  He drove straight to the clubhouse, parking close to the dorms. She climbed out her side of the truck and before she could get her door closed he was there, hefting her onto his shoulder.

  "Tank!" she exclaimed as he started up the stairs. "You should be taking it easy."

  "You weigh nothing, English," he said in that halting way he had now. "It's like walking up the stairs with a full wallet."

  He was setting her down at his door before he finished that thought, and she smiled up at him as he found the key to the door and pushed it open.

  She'd set some things out since he'd been gone. Her scarves were wrapped around the chain that hung from the lamp over the small motel table. Her makeup took up much of the top of the dresser, as did the box of jewelry she'd brought along. Not a jewelry box, a medium-sized cardboard box of costume jewelry she'd had forever. It had been on racks and stands in her apartment but she didn't want to take up that much room here, so she left it in the box she'd tossed it all in.

  Tank entered his room slowly, walking past the bed and to the dresser, hand tracing over the top, amongst her things but not touching anything. He pulled open one top drawer, putting his hand inside and pulling out a pair of her panties before turning her way with a raised eyebrow.

  "I moved in. I'm sorry if I took over your place but—"

  He walked faster than he could talk. He dropped her underwear and crossed the room again, shoving the door closed and wrapping her up in his giant arms. "You made it better," he said before kissing her, and Rose moaned, letting his tongue into her mouth, melting into his hold.

  His hands pulled up on her wide, knee-length skirt before cupping her ass. She moaned again into his mouth, grinding against his erection. Finally, a private room. She needed him to make love to her, and she was pretty sure he needed to do it too. Not just for the obvious reasons; he needed normal activities where he could exhibit his abilities, his skills. His strength. So, as much as she wanted to suggest that he lay back and let her do the work, she didn't speak a word. This was not a topic to suggest he might have limitations of any sort.

  He spun her, walking her back to his bed, and in a tangle of limps pulling at clothing they landed on the bed, most of his weight on his arms so as not to completely crush her. She smiled up at him, tipping his cowboy hat up in the front so she could see his smile. He wasn't smiling, though, he was looking at her with concern.

  "Cowboy," she whispered, trying to keep it light. "What's wrong?"

  "I love you."

  That made her smile broader. "I love you, too. You'll never believe how much I love you, but I do."

  Now she got his sweet, slightly off-center smile. "We should get married then."

  Her mouth dropped open out of sheer surprise. "You want to marry me?" It sounded like she was in disbelief on the subject, and maybe she was.

  "Yeah, I do." He opened his mouth, frowned, then tried again. She felt concern that he was getting worked up over something, and she pressed her hand to his cheek to center him. It worked. His eyes locked on hers. "Please, English. Marry me?"

  "Yes," she said as she brought her head up off the mattress, kissing him full on the mouth, arms going around his neck to pull him down onto her. She cradled him with her body, stroking her tongue along his, and as his hands grew more and more frantic on her she pulled away and started pushing down on the elastic waist of her skirt.

  His eyes flashed, and he stood at the edge of the bed to help her, pulling it off with her panties, eyes on the part of her now bared to him. With an impatient grunt he shoved off the cowboy hat and fell to his knees before tossing her legs over his shoulders.

  Oh God, that tongue and mouth. She cried out, since it seemed like a lifetime since she'd had this, and when he added two generous fingers to this carnal attention she came immediately, crying his name like they had the building to themselves. So glorious, so amazingly complete. Making love had never been so wonderful, so effortless, in her entire life.

  He stood, wiping his beard with a smile nearly as satisfied as hers probably was. His hands went to his belt buckle, and she quickly pulled off her top so she could watch him. He was a show without even trying. He shrugged out of his flannel shirt, then pulled off the cotton undershirt, dropping both at his feet. He toed off his boots and dropped his jeans, no shorts, then crawled up the bed overtop of her, even with the cast on his right hand. It must not have hurt too much, or maybe he was beyond pain.

  "Cowboy," she breathed, almost fearful of the intensity of that stare. No, not fearful. Thrilled. Anticipatory. But she was letting him lead all of this. It was obvious he needed to.

  His eyes ate up her body, her skin, her curves. He dropped his head to suckle at one nipple, then the other. She burned like she hadn't just been wonderfully enjoyed, whimpering when he stopped.

  "Fucking beautiful," he mumbled, eyes still on her chest. It was interesting to her that fucking insert-noun-or-adjective-here always came out perfectly clear no matter what his mental state. In some ways that was a relief.

  One arm reached out for the nightstand, too late realizing it was the one with the cast. He cursed again but she reached out for him, giggling. He started chuckling, too. "Too anxious," he mumbled as she pulled a condom from the drawer.

  "Should I put it on, Cowboy?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow playfully.

  "You better," he growled. "Too soon for babies."

  That simple statement made her pause, body warming with something other than the need to have him in her again. The sweet feeling had started back when they'd discussed whether or not they liked children, and there it was, like a caring reminder.

  He'd asked her to marry him. He would want her to have his children. And she absolutely, one hundred and ten percent wanted all of that.


  She tore the package open in her teeth, then reached down between them to roll the condom onto him. She took her time with it, squeezing a bit more than the task really warranted, but every time he hissed in a breath she bit her lip and moaned with him.

  "Rose," he warned, her hand circled around his base, stroking downward over soft skin. "I can only hold out so much."

  "Then fuck me, Tank," she whispered, chin up. "God, I need it."

  She didn't have to say anything else. His good arm darted under her lower back, yanking her hips off the mattress as he drove his erection into her relentlessly. She cried out again, her nails digging into his shoulders. The bed hit the wall with the force of him, and she couldn't have stopped grunting if she’d tried. He pounded into her like he was marking territory, and she honestly didn't mind. She could take this from him, and she craved it. He'd been missing this, too, and he wasn't gentle. She didn't need him to be. She needed him to be rough and big and dominant because that was what she liked about him.

  When he came it was loud and wonderful as always, making her smile as he collapsed with his face against the side of her neck. And after tying off the condom and disposing of it, he climbed into bed next to her, pulling her into his embrace and kissing the back of her neck sweetly, his hands running so tenderly over her. And that was the rest of what she liked about him.

  -oOo-

  "You're sure you're okay with this?" she asked softly, kissing his shoulder and running her hand through his hair. The hair that remained.

  "Yeah. Let's just get it over with."

  Rose nodded and then worked her fingers through his long locks, twisting and turning the full length into a tight braid. Then he handed her a pair of shears and she, with one snip, delivered while holding her breath, cut the braid off.

  Rose fastened both ends with an elastic. His hair had been even longer and thicker than she'd really known. And while it was a bit coarse, it was quite healthy. She set it on the bathroom vanity behind her, then picked up the electric razor.

  "Last chance to change your mind."

  He shook his head but didn't look at her. "Nah. Do it."

  He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, feet inside. She stood on the tile behind him, and after a deep breath she cut the rest of his hair off. She used the shortest setting, then set to brushing all the little cuttings from his shoulders. "That's it, Cowboy. All gone."

  His big hand ran over his scalp, back and forth. Then he was quiet.

  "You okay?"

  He shrugged, then leaned his head back to look at her. The scar on his scalp had been surgically put there so it was small and neat. It wasn't ugly and nasty and scary, but it still made her wince inwardly. He'd needed a hole in his head because his brain had been swelling. That was so fucking terrifying—

  "Are you okay?" he asked slowly, and she had to smile.

  "I'm worried about you."

  "I'm fine, honey." He rubbed his head again before standing up and turning to her. "Kinda feels nice."

  "I bet it's lighter," she said, setting the clippers done.

  He nodded, brushing the hair off his bare chest and arms. "Hand me the razor and shaving cream."

  She did, passing him the can and the disposable without a word.

  "It'll grow back, English," he said, somewhat smoother, with a chuckle.

  "I know. I'm just scared. I nearly lost you, Cowboy."

  There was a pause while he stared at her, then she got that crooked smile. "Not even close, Rose."

  Chapter Forty-Two

  His kutte was on his back again, and that felt right. He'd fucked his woman that morning after waking up next to her, and that was pretty fucking right as well. He was back at the table with his brothers, which was certainly right.

  But they were leaving on a run he couldn't go on, and that gave him the scratch something awful.

  Another run for Sachetti from San Diego to Pasadena. Not a long run in the scheme of things, but with Tank out of commission that meant Jayce had to go as a show of respect. And with an assassination attempt on a Rebel this recent, he was nervous to have the Prez out there.

  And as for how Tank was at the clubhouse and not jail, well that was simple. The little Turnbull shit decided to drop the charges after Jayce and Fritter paid him a visit. They were a little curious as to how that kid got a Rebel thrown in jail just in time for someone to get inside with him and try to kill him. Almost like they were working together to take out the VP of the Red Rebels.

  Of course, Tank and the guys knew that was ridiculous. The Turnbulls were nothing other than business owners in Markham. Sure, the old man was making a run for Sheriff, but a dead body at the jail was a bit extreme to make his point. Still, they showed the muscle to make the point, and the kid called off the cops.

  Didn't stop Archie Turnbull from squawking to anyone who would listen, though. He was all about showing the citizens of Markham the errors of their ways to consort with the criminal element like it was just the way of the world. The asshole was campaigning before the campaign could even begin.

  The other asshole, the one that put him in the hospital in the first place, was "not cooperating with law enforcement," nor was he trying to make bail, which wasn't a surprise. Their big plan must have included Tank being arrested, beaten unconscious or dead, then the officers would have let them go. Downey confirmed the two men hadn't been booked, but she was trying to figure out who the hell they were.

  The best news was Tank getting out of jail. The doctors told him it would be four weeks before the cast could come off, so no riding until then. Plus, he had this affliction that had him mumbling his thoughts like fucking Frankenstein's monster. So while he knew he had luck on his side in more ways than one, never mind an attempt on his life while he was in a fucking coma, he was still off on everything. Just a little bit.

  Not Rose, though. He had to smile at the thought of her riding him wearing a peach-colored cowgirl hat just that morning. No, as far as his personal life went, his woman was his world, and she made everything fine and dandy.

  "We got thunderstorms in the forecast today, around the time we'll roll into Pasadena," Tiny was saying. As road captain he was only responsible for the route, but he looked into other factors as well. "Might be a good idea to prepare ourselves to stay overnight if that's true."

  "I'm considering lockdown for tonight if we're not back," Jayce said, meeting the eyes of everyone at the table. "We had Gypsys in our town again unnoticed. And they damn near killed Tank, could have gotten Knuckles and Rose, too. Instead, we took care of both of them. Well, Knuckles and Rose did." There were chuckles around the table. "But we still could face retribution for that."

  Tank smiled with them, but it bit his ass he’d been sleeping while his woman nearly died saving his life. That didn't sit well with any man, as far as Tank could tell. It should have been him protecting her. And he couldn't, even without the beating, because he’d gotten himself thrown in jail for doing something stupid.

  Outlaw and family man was a mighty fine line to walk, as he was finding out.

  "Damndest thing I've ever seen," Knuckles said for about the dozenth time. "She was in full protection mode, man. Fucking fatal, the second she had him on his stomach. You woulda been proud."

  He was proud, even if it chafed that he hadn't been able to handle it himself.

  "My point is they're going to be pissed. In the past few months we got three of them dead to rights, and now these two."

  "There's no doubt those two cops were in on it," Fritter spoke up. "Do we know anything about them?"

  Now Spaz leaned in. "They split after the attempted hit. I got names and plates, but I bet they're smart enough to ditch both. Downey said they'd started nearly two years ago, so they really weren't that new."

  "Around the time Skip got killed," Buck said softly and they all took a moment as the name was mentioned.

  "If that was supposed to be some huge take-down plan, it sucked balls." Everyone frowned at Spa
z, and he squirmed and licked his lips. "I mean, they plant two cops here waiting for their moment, and the second they've got one of us in lockup without Downey around, they let two guys in to do it for them? Of course it fell apart."

  "They were supposed to be there to counteract Downey, I'm sure of it." Jayce nodded to his left. "Tank going in was their first chance to make a move, and yeah, they fumbled it. They thought it would only take two guys." There were chuckles around the table. "But they were able to get those two guys into the hospital. There's no way we should feel comfortable knowing they're gone."

  "So lockdown. Rusty, Tims, Richey and Tank are staying behind. I'm more than comfortable with that. I think that's lots of protection for the ladies." Jayce raised an eyebrow at Buck. "Last chance to change your mind, man."

  Buck shook his head. "Nah. I'm going to need the cash."

  Jayce grinned. "Yeah, you are. You have no idea."

  Buck made a noise of annoyance but he was smiling like a lucky man all the same. Tank could tell impending fatherhood was something he was only too happy to be ribbed about.

  "All right. Get the women packed up and back here. Rusty, keep in mind this ain't a Friday party night. Make sure the girls all know to keep it low key." The difference between women and girls was whether or not they were attached, obviously.

  "You got it," the ginger-haired prospect promised, bobbing his head like a sweet butt himself.

  "And that's it. Let's get ready to ride."

  Man, this sucked. He wanted to be on this run. But he was staying with the women and prospects and Richey, who was at least a full patch but only a year and a half in. He felt like a whiny kid as they filed out of the boardroom.

  Rose was waiting for him, one leg hitched up on a barstool as she chatted with Jolene. Seeing the men, she excused herself and headed their way, and Tank made sure to stick close to Jayce. She didn't need his backup but she had it all the same.

  "Jayce, got a minute?"

  His Prez slowed, thumb hooked on a belt loop as he nodded. "I got a couple. What's up?" He sensed Tank and gave him a curious look, hovering as he was, but then Rose had his attention.