Resilient

by Gillian Archer

  “I’ve been known to hold grudges for weeks.”

  “You can have the rest of the night.”

  “What kinda bullshit is that? I can’t stop being angry just beca—” The rest of my words were cut off when he covered my lips with his. He kissed me with an urgency that made my body burn. After a few moments he pulled away and rested his head on top of mine.

  “We okay?” he asked.

  I heaved a huge sigh and burrowed closer. “Yeah. For now. But my grudge still stands.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I gave a muffled shriek as Tank hoisted me into his arms, then tossed me onto the bed a few feet away. A second later my panting breath mingled with his as he went about showing me just how sorry he was.

  And after a few minutes I told him that he was forgiven.

  Actually, I screamed it after the third orgasm.

  Chapter 20

  Tank

  When my cellphone woke me up before dawn for the second time in a week, I knew it couldn’t be good news. I rolled over with a muffled groan and searched the floor for my jeans and phone. Between the roller coaster of drama last night and only three hours of sleep under my belt, I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. It took me a few tries to find my pants, let alone my phone.

  “Make it stop,” Nicole sleepily murmured. “I hate that song.”

  “Sorry, baby. Go back to sleep.”

  My phone was on the second round of playing Nazareth’s “Hair of the Dog” by the time I found it. I made a mental note to change my ringtone to something less annoying to my girl.

  My girl.

  A smug smile spread across my face. I could get used to calling her that.

  “What?” I grumbled into my phone. I wanted to get back to cuddling with my girl, not dealing with club business.

  “Shit’s going down.” Zag’s voice rumbled in my ear. “I need you at the clubhouse ASAP.”

  Fuck. So much for morning sex. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  I grumbled to myself as I got dressed and sent Nicole a text explaining where I disappeared to and hoping she’d hang out until I got done with club business. I gave her cheek a quick peck before I left the bedroom. It was too early to feed and medicate Stella, so I gave her a pat on my way out of the house. Then I was on my bike and heading for the clubhouse.

  The entire ride over I thought about last night. Christy and her deadbeat husband. Nicole and her surprise news about her dad. How it dug up a ton of bullshit about Abby and my PTSD. How much of an ass I’d been toward Nicole. I apparently had no filter or ability to control myself around the girl. She just got beneath my skin with her filthy mouth, killer body, and vulnerable eyes. The combination was my kryptonite. It was just a matter of time before I really fucked up this thing between us.

  Or maybe not. If she could forgive the fucked up shit I’d accused her of last night, maybe she really was the chick for me.

  All of it fell from my mind as I rolled up to the clubhouse and saw the contingent waiting in the parking lot. Reb, Zag, Axle, and Stitch all leaned against the outer brick wall of the compound. And none of them looked happy to be there.

  I jerked my head in a nod at Bam Bam, who slid the gate open for me, then parked my bike alongside the others in the lot. Reb pushed away from the wall and led the way into the clubhouse, which was suspiciously empty.

  Fuck.

  The prez, VP, SAA, and my sponsor being the only guys in attendance made me feel kinda jittery. But for the bullshit going down right now, I would’ve been nervous that maybe I was getting jumped out of the club.

  “Shit has hit the fan,” Reb said as the door slammed closed behind Stitch. “You wanna fill them in, Axle?”

  “Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through my living room window last night. If I hadn’t been in my bedroom banging—fuck, what was her name”—he shrugged before continuing— “what’s-her-face, shit would’ve got outta hand. By the time I got the claws out of my back and the fire out, whoever did it was long gone. Neighbors didn’t see shit. One of them said they heard a motorcycle revving right after my living room went up.”

  “This is bullshit.” Zag paced in front of the bar. “We need to ride on those fucking Tramps yesterday. I can’t believe you guys kept me out of the loop for a whole goddamn week.”

  “Wasn’t much you could’ve done from fucking Hawaii, Z,” Reb retorted. “What would’ve been the point in screwing up your honeymoon?”

  “Glad you’re okay, Ax,” I said quietly while Reb and Zag went a few rounds. “How’s your house? Do you need a place to crash?”

  “Nah, I’ll just hang out in my room here until I get shit fixed. I would’ve been here all weekend, anyhow, since it’s Street Vibrations. Pussy is gonna be on tap for the next three days. We’re gonna tear it up, T. I can’t fucking wait.”

  Stitch chuckled. “You’re gonna have to find another adversary for the blow job races, Axle. Tank here has finally landed himself an old lady.”

  “What the fuck?” Axle blinked at me like I’d turned into an uptight prick right before his eyes. “Who? When?”

  I threw Stitch a pissed-off look. I wasn’t ready to come out and say anything about me and Nicole. What the fuck was Stitch thinking? Considering how we left things last night, how’d he even know where things were with me and Nic? Did someone tattoo “pussy whipped” across my forehead last night without me knowing it? I turned back to Axle and answered. “Nicole. And sometime this week, I guess.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic,” Zag mocked. “If you ladies are done gossiping, maybe we can get to the business of figuring out what we’re gonna do about the Tramps’ attacks on our fucking motorcycle club.”

  “Congrats, Tank.” Reb leaned back against the bar and tipped his head at me. “I had a feeling the two of you would go the distance.”

  “Really?” I laughed. “What happened to you and Zag ‘setting me right’?”

  “Huh, I forgot about that.” Reb’s lips curved into a something that looked like a smile but would’ve scared a lesser man. “Apparently we owe you an ass whipping. Thanks for the reminder.”

  Zag had to raise his voice to be heard over the men’s laughter. “Ladies! We can kick Tank’s ass later. How about we figure out what we’re gonna do with the Tramps now? Remember them? Set fire to our business last week and our VP’s house last night?”

  “That’s why I wanted Tank here.” Reb addressed the group. “Stitch filled me in on your theory. How about you share it with the rest of the class?”

  I tossed another glare at Stitch, but he only raised his eyebrows in response. So I turned to Zag. “Where was Bam Bam assigned to be last night?”

  “Bam Bam? Our prospect?” Zag’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about it. “He was off last night. Something about a family thing.”

  “Stitch, you were supposed to talk to Bam’s sponsor,” I cut in. “Isn’t Maverick his uncle or something? He should be able to corroborate Bam’s story.”

  Stitch shook his head. “I talked to Maverick. Bam was his neighbor back when the kid lived near Hug High School, like ten years ago. Mav hasn’t really seen much of him the last few years. I guess Bam went to live with his dad in Tahoe through high school.”

  “Where in Tahoe?” Reb asked. “That’s really fucking close to Truckee.”

  “And the Tramps,” Zag added.

  “Mav didn’t know.” Stitch shrugged. “I didn’t want to tip him off about what we were thinking.”

  “You’re not seriously thinking Maverick is in on this fucking conspiracy?” Axle looked at us like we were crazy. “He’s been a member longer than anyone in this fucking room.”

  Stitch narrowed his eyes at Axle. “I didn’t think Mav was in on it. I just didn’t want him to worry that he’d been the one to let in a spy. Or go off half-cocked before we knew what the fuck was going on.”

  “Well, we gotta know.” Reb tilted his head as he examined his fingernails.

  “He’s out
front now.” Zag fisted his hands. “Let’s go drag the fucker in.”

  Reb shook his head. “We can’t just go off half-cocked. I called him in for guard duty for a reason.”

  “But it’s Sig’s day.” Zag returned. “He’ll probably be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Exactly.” Reb pushed away from the bar and paced in front of the crew. “Tank, I want you waiting for Sig outside. Shoot the shit with Bam, but be careful about what you say. I don’t want to tip our hand before we’re ready. Axle and Stitch, go make sure the storage room is ready for Bam’s party later.”

  I nodded. “We should probably call Hatchet, too. I asked him to hang close to Bam this week and find out everything he could.”

  “I’ll call Maverick and Hatchet in,” Reb said. “We’ll hold Bam in the storage room while we hash out what we can in my office. It’d be better if we don’t fuck up the kid if we don’t have to.”

  I jerked my chin in agreement before I headed for the door.

  Behind me I heard Zag ask, “What about me?”

  “Go with Tank,” Reb growled. “Make sure that Bam comes into the clubhouse willingly. No bullshit. We don’t need the neighbors calling the cops on us for suspicious activity.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Zag mockingly saluted Reb.

  I just shook my head and kept walking. I knew the two had more of a son-father rapport, but sometimes Zag’s occasional acts of disrespect were over the top for my own well-honed esteem for the chain of command. Especially within the True Brothers MC.

  Apparently Reb agreed with me because two steps later he shouted, “You call me a lady one more fucking time, Z, you’ll be the one in the storage room next!”

  Zag lifted a hand in a careless wave, then opened the front door. I didn’t look at either man as I walked through. But if I was gonna choose a side, it wouldn’t be Zag’s.

  “So you and Nicole, huh?” Zag asked me as the door slammed shut behind us. “Where was I when that was going down?”

  “Seriously? You call me a lady two times this morning and now you wanna bullshit like nothing happened?”

  “Christ.” Zag darted a look at Bam Bam’s position and talked louder. “When did everyone get so damn sensitive? I go away for a week and you guys grow vaginas.”

  “More like you got married and are trying to overcompensate for how fucking happy you are.”

  “Yeah, I am pretty fucking happy. New baby, new wife, new life. It’s awesome, brother. You might wanna try it.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that. Right now I was just trying to wrap my head around the word girlfriend. I wasn’t even ready to say old lady, let alone forever. Fuck, these guys were worse than chicks when it came to pushing relationships.

  “Hey, Bam.” I jerked my chin at him on my way to my bike. I decided my time was better spent screwing around with my bike than trying to subtly grill our prime suspect. I didn’t wanna fuck shit up.

  Zag apparently had no such fears. “How’s the family, Bam?”

  “Family?” Bam flinched like Zag had slapped him.

  “Remember? The whole reason you couldn’t show up for duty last night? Family shit or something?”

  “It’s…” Bam trailed off as he stared at the tips of his boots. He scuffed one with the heel of the other before continuing. “It’s shit, man. You got family?”

  “None that I’d ever fucking claim.” Zag inclined his head. “The True Brothers are my family. I’d fucking die for any one of them.”

  I cleared my throat awkwardly at Zag’s overt aggression. “Uh, aren’t you forgetting something, Z?”

  “I don’t think so,” Zag retorted as he glared at Bam Bam.

  “Jessica? Harley? Your wife and daughter? Does that ring any bells?”

  Zag turned his glare on me. Not that I gave a shit. He was gonna fuck this up if he didn’t calm down. I got that he was passionate about the club, but so was I. And maybe Bam was, too. He’d put up with a ton of shit over the past year. I was still suspicious, but I wanted our ducks all in a row before we went off half-cocked.

  I nodded to Bam. “I got family. My sister was over at my place last night bitching about her asshole husband—guy can’t keep a job to save his life. What is it about women? Is there some unwritten law that only they can rag on their guys? ’Cause she about tore me a new one when I told her to leave his punk ass.”

  Bam Bam chuckled weakly in response to my story, but he didn’t look all that happy. Something was eating this kid up. Was it something with his family? Or was he feeling conflicted about selling us out to the Tramps?

  Before I could probe any deeper, the sound of motorcycle pipes echoed through the neighborhood. A few seconds later Sig pulled up to the gate with Hatchet trailing behind him. Bam Bam opened the gate, and the guys parked their bikes close to the clubhouse.

  “Sig, take over the gate,” Zag barked. “Bam’s coming inside with us for some lighthearted hazing.” Zag smiled and rubbed his hands together in an over-the-top gesture of glee. I really hoped he was hamming it up. With all the shit going down over the last few months, I think a few of the guys forgot that we weren’t a one-percenter MC.

  And after my time in the Marines, I really didn’t have the stomach for blood.

  Sig took his post next to the gate, and the rest of us filed into the clubhouse. Hatchet kept tossing me confused glances like he didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but at least the guy could keep his mouth shut.

  Unlike Zag.

  “You’re not allergic to anything, are you, Bam?” Zag asked the prospect.

  Bam shook his head. “No allergies.”

  “That’s fucking fantastic. Makes it so much easier to devise a plan when I don’t have to worry about humane bullshit.”

  Bam looked a little paler as we entered the bar section of the clubhouse. Not sure if it was the shitty lighting, his guilty conscience, or fear over Zag’s threat, I watched impassively as the guys took Bam Bam to the storage room.

  I entered Reb’s office and took a seat on his worn leather sofa to wait for the rest of the guys. Coming in behind me, Hatchet jumped when something that sounded suspiciously like a scream pierced the quiet room.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Hatch asked as he grabbed a seat in a rigid chair across from me.

  “The guys wanna know what Bam’s been up to. Did you get a chance to talk to him this week?”

  “Yeah. But—”

  “Save it for Reb when he gets here.” I cut into whatever Hatchet was gonna say next. “He’s gonna wanna hear it first.”

  “But you don’t understand. Bam isn’t—” Hatch broke off as the door opened and Reb, Zag, and Axle trooped in. The guys dropped into the rest of the available seats. “You guys are making a huge mistake. Bam Bam isn’t with the Tramps.”

  Reb rocked forward in his seat, placing his forearms on his knees. “What the fuck do you think’s going on right now, Hatch?”

  Hatchet mimed Reb’s tough body language, but his nerves were obvious. “Bam’s in the storage room. We just heard a scream…I can connect the fucking dots.”

  Reb let out a deep belly laugh as he fell back in his seat. “I don’t know what you heard. Probably a refrigerator screeching against the floor in the storage room. We put Bam to work moving some shit around. That’s all. God, kid. That’s some funny shit. Where the fuck do you think you are? In an episode of Sons of Anarchy? Fuck.”

  Axle rolled his eyes as Reb continued to laugh. “So spill, Hatch. What did you get out of Bam Bam?”

  “He’s got nothing to do with the Tramps as far as I can see. His mom kicked him out of the house his freshman year of high school because her new guy was an ass. He went to live with his grandma in Tahoe—South Tahoe, nowhere near Truckee or the Tramps—and he hooked up with Maverick after he was done with school while he was apprenticing with the local welder’s union. I guess Mav was teaching a class or something. That’s it.”

  “What about his dad?” Axle asked. “Is h
e in the picture?”

  “Nah, his dad died when he was six,” Hatch answered. “It’s just been him and his mom, and I’m guessing a string of loser stepdads and boyfriends ever since.”

  My gut clenched at how similar my background was to Bam’s. But where I had my sister Christy to keep a lot of my mom’s bullshit away from me, Bam had no one. Until Maverick. And the True Brothers.

  And I’d come seriously close to fucking it all up for him.

  Goddammit.

  “Good to know,” Reb rumbled. “We’ll still keep an eye on him, but I think it’s safe to say that he’s not a leak.”

  “Which brings us back to the Tramps.” Zag leaned against the door with his arms crossed.

  “Or the Wild Riders,” Axle tossed in.

  “Or La famigghia,” I added.

  “It’s the Tramps.” Zag pushed away from the door and walked over to the group of chairs we were all sitting in. “We’ve fucked them the most. They’re out for revenge. I say we strike back before they have a chance to torch anything else.”

  “And what if you’re wrong?” Reb raised an eyebrow at Zag.

  “So what if I am?” Zag returned. “They’re Tramps. They have it coming. We still owe them payback after the brawl that took out Digs and Oiler. When are we ever gonna get retaliation for the lives those fuckers took? And the families they ruined?”

  “What about Joker? Or Preacher?” Axle asked, reminding the group of one Tramp life we’d had to take and one of our own who’d betrayed us with our enemy before we’d ended his worthless life.

  “Or Rhonda?” Reb looked at Zag with the eyes of a tortured man. “My kid has lost his mother to this revenge bullshit. I still don’t know what happened to my ex-wife, but it looks like she’s never coming back. I gotta explain to my kid why his mom’s not here, why she won’t be showing up to parents’ night at his school or for trick-or-treating next month. And Christ. Christmas. Fuck. When is enough enough?”

  “What are you saying?” Zag yelled. “You wanna just sit back and let these assholes keep going until they torch everything we own to the fucking ground?”