Tank (Dark Falcons Book 2)

by Em Petrova

  “That’s true.”

  “You have information for us, Sheriff.” Tank didn’t wait for more chit-chat.

  “I do. And you were right—that truck was loaded with explosives. You’re all damn lucky it held on as long as it did and didn’t blow while you were inspecting the engine. The material in those barrels was far from stable.”

  “Goddammit!” Tank whirled away, looking for something to put his fist through. Preferably, Chad’s fucking face. The man had endangered all their lives, and he deserved to meet with any end the Dark Falcons saw fit to deliver.

  Patriot grabbed him by the shoulder and walked him to the sheriff and Dixon.

  “—he’s been arrested. There’s nothing more to do right now. Later on, we might need more of a statement from you,” the sheriff was saying.

  Tank froze. “Arrested.”

  “That’s right.” Probably seeing the murder in Tank’s eyes, the sheriff said, “Look, Tank, he’s in custody without bail. A crime like this won’t go without punishment, and you can bank on the fact nobody will see that guy for a long time.”

  After a few more minutes of talk, Dixon said goodbye to the sheriff and saw him off. Then he turned to Tank.

  Tank issued a growl. “So that’s it. He gets to blow shit up and almost kill the people most important to me and I don’t even get a chance to do something about it?” He held both arms to his sides, still incredulous that things went this direction.

  “You get to help rebuild this club into something bigger, better and stronger, Tank. That’s what you get to show him. We prove that nothing can take down a Dark Falcon.” Dixon checked his phone. “It’s about time to go get your woman from work. Patriot, Rio, you got his six.”

  “Will do, Prez.” Patriot immediately went for his bike.

  For a long minute, Tank stood there, staring at Dixon. “I don’t need to tell you that I’m fucking irate,” Tank said.

  “No shit. We all are. But like I said, we leave it to the law to bring the asshole to justice for what he’s done. And we build ourselves again, stronger. Now go get your old lady from work and let her calm you down with a nice blow job.”

  At that, Tank couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

  Dixon grinned. “Go. See ya later at the Painted Pig. I’ll buy ya a Crown.”

  Tank grasped Dixon by the hand and gripped it tight. “No—this round’s on me.”

  Catarina came out of the bathroom in a fog of steam, patting the wetness from her curls so they didn’t frizz. The scent of frying bacon reached her, along with the low, deep rumble of her man humming.

  Holy hell, that’s hot.

  She lowered the towel and walked to the doorway of the kitchen. His back was to her. Barefoot and with his jeans hanging perfectly low on his hips, he couldn’t get hotter—unless she counted his broad back flexing his T-shirt to the limits. He’d draped his leather cut on the back of a chair, and the orange-red and black Dark Falcons patch caught her eyes.

  Never in her life would she have thought herself excited by such a thing as being with a man who belonged to a biker club. She’d seen those women who hung around the guys—they called them honeys—and she didn’t consider herself one of them. She wasn’t here for the status—she was here to stay.

  As she approached Rob with quiet steps, he tossed a look over his shoulder at her. The humming stopped, but he replaced the sound with a warm, crooked smile that had her heart thumping faster.

  He turned from the stove to reveal a pan of bacon frying, along with a salad in a glass bowl, big leaves of lettuce, some sliced tomatoes and buns ready for toasting to make the best BLT a woman could ask for.

  She shook her head in awe.

  “You look comfy.” He glanced over his T-shirt she put on after her shower. It hung to her knees and slipped off her one shoulder, but that only made her feel sexier.

  She rocked one hip forward in invitation. “Thought you might like it. I can’t believe you’re making dinner.”

  “The least I can do for my hardworking woman.” He hooked a hand around her waist and pulled her in. When he lowered his lips to hers, a dark thrill hit her belly and continued traveling south between her thighs.

  He deepened the kiss, and she went onto tiptoe, her fingers clenched in his shirt front to keep him there a moment longer.

  Finally, she broke free. “Don’t burn the bacon.”

  He shot her a grin before facing the stove again. She drifted over to the counter and leaned there, watching him.

  “Thank you for being so amazing to me, Rob.”

  He went dead still. Setting aside the fork, he turned to look at her. “Darlin’, you never did understand how worth it you are. But I’m damn well going to show you every day of your life. As long as you’ll let me.”

  A noise broke from her throat, and she stepped into his arms once more. With her head nestled under his chin, she listened to the sizzle of bacon and his thumping heart.

  “I heard about Chad’s arrest,” she said quietly.

  Under her palms, his muscles flexed. “Figured you would, with the circles you run in at work.”

  She nodded, brushing her cheek against his chest. “I can’t believe he was capable of that.”

  He smoothed a hand over her hair. “He was controlling. Men like that are capable of anything.”

  “I don’t know how I didn’t see it. Too stupid.”

  He drew away to look into her eyes. “You’re not stupid. Plenty of women—men too—get caught up in something toxic and can’t find a way out. But I swear to you that I’ll treat you right from now on, darlin’.”

  She smiled up at him. “Now you are burning the bacon.” She gave him a little shove toward the stove. With a chuckle, he turned off the burner and removed the slices from the pan, laying them across paper toweling to drain the grease while she located plates and silverware.

  They sat together at the table, eating and talking about their days. When he told her about the demo being completed in a single day, she shook her head.

  “That’s amazing.” She bit into her luscious BLT, the bacon perfectly crisp and the tomato and lettuce fresh and ripe.

  “They’re all at the Painted Pig tonight if you want to come along.” He dropped his stare over her bare thighs crossed underneath the table. “You’ll have to put on pants first, though. I can’t have my guys eyeing you up.”

  She giggled. “Of course I’d put on some real clothes. I only wore this for you.”

  His brows ticked upward a notch, and a hungry gleam came into his eyes, one she knew didn’t have to do with his stomach.

  “Tell me about your day.” His careful words alerted her to the fact he wanted her to finish her meal before he picked her up and carried her off to bed to ravish her.

  A shiver ran through her, and she forked up some salad smothered in Italian dressing. “Thankfully it wasn’t a very eventful day. We like those kinds of shifts.”

  He nodded. “I know how stressed you get after a rough day. But I’m here, ready to massage the knots out of your shoulders.” He turned his palm up.

  She dropped her fork. When she slipped her hand into his, he pulled her out of her chair. She thumped onto his hard thighs, sprawled on his lap. Immediately, he kissed her, a soft, probing caress promising so much more.

  Passion slicked through her belly, and she wriggled against him.

  When he slid a hand up her bare outer thigh and kept going, to discover she wasn’t wearing panties, he clutched her hip and groaned.

  “You slay me, woman. I want you every minute of every day. I can hardly focus on building bikes or the club, because all I want is to be buried inside this…” he eased his hand between her legs to cup her mound. Leaning in, his words washed over her lips. “Sweet pussy.”

  With that, he threw out an arm and shoved aside his dinner plate. Her bottom hit the table, and she cried out as he spread her thighs. Slowly, he dipped his head and looked up at her from between her legs.

  �
��Time for dessert.”

  He plunged his tongue into her pussy. She tossed her head on a cry of ecstasy. As he worked his tongue in and out of her, he found her breasts were also bare under his T-shirt. Each pluck of his rough fingers against her nipples had another moan ripped from her throat. She closed her eyes on the bliss and lost herself to the feel of her lover’s mouth and fingers.

  When he latched onto her clit and sucked with perfect pulls of his mouth, her legs began to shake. His groan of appreciation rumbled up through her thighs, pussy, spread through her belly. Her core tightened, and she started to pulse. Each contraction brought more juices onto his tongue, and he lapped at her, flicking his tongue between her entrance and up to circle her clit until she couldn’t take it another minute and exploded for him.

  Tank shoved to his feet so fast that his chair fell over. It hit the floor with a crack, but he didn’t bother to right it. He ripped his shirt off Catarina and then picked her up. She kissed him long and deep as he carried her to their bed.

  In a short time, she’d brought some of her things to his place. A floral throw pillow. A bottle of perfume on the nightstand. He loved seeing her things here mingled with his.

  As he lay her on the mattress, she stared up at him with the sexual haze still bright in her eyes.

  “Tomorrow we’re moving all your things over here.” He captured her nipple between his lips and sucked.

  She ripped at his shirt, yanking it off him. “And hanging up the mobile you made.”

  “And right now”—he shoved to his knees and yanked open his belt—“you’re going to see how much of this you can take into your mouth.” His heart thumped at the first command he’d given her.

  She’d either walk away or she’d be as turned on as he was at the prospect of him taking control in their bed.

  A pink flush covered her cheeks, making her freckles stand out even more. His heart squeezed hard at the sight, and his balls tightened. He watched her face as he drew his cock out and into his hand. The length throbbed, veined and purple with lust. He fixed his stare on her lips, and damn if she didn’t drive him crazy by swiping her tongue over them.

  She sat up and inched across the mattress to him. When she latched onto his hips and lowered her mouth over his cock, he thought he’d lose his damn mind. A groan tore from his throat, ragged and raw. Her hot mouth surrounding his aching flesh had him about to blow. He let her move at her own pace, but it didn’t take her long to suck him straight into the back of her throat.

  He sat there a moment, still and stunned by the sight of his cock buried balls-deep in her mouth.

  She pulled free again, her saliva slicking him. He started to grab for her to shove her down and bury his cock inside her, but she refused to budge, sucking him in a second time. And a third. By the twelfth, he knew he was dangerously close to blowing in her mouth.

  “Fuck, baby. You’re too damn good at this. Stop before I blow.” Was that even his voice?

  He cupped her chin and she flashed her eyes up at him. With a primal growl, he withdrew his cock from the depths of her heated mouth, kicked off the rest of his clothes and lowered himself between her thighs.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “Fuck me, Rob!”

  In one hard shove, he joined them. Her inner walls gripped him so fucking perfect. Her nails scored his shoulders even better. He never wanted this moment to end—never wanted to let her go.

  He thrust into her at the same moment she rocked up to meet him. He pulsed his hips, rubbing his swollen tip over her G-spot until he felt her flood around him.

  “Soo…close…” Her rasped words were hot against his throat. She sucked on his neck, and he closed his eyes at the sensation of her surrounding him.

  He reared up to pin her in his stare. “Loving you was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Even when you didn’t love me back.”

  Her eyes cleared with understanding. “I always loved you back. I only needed you to show me the way.”

  He grinned and churned his hips. “Is this the way?”

  “Yessss.”

  “And this?” He fucked her with faster strokes.

  She gripped his shoulders. “Oh my God, yes!”

  He felt her pussy clench around him, so hard that she milked his orgasm up from the depths of his balls. Her body shivered and shuddered in his hold as she gave herself up to her orgasm, and he pounded his release into her pussy for long seconds.

  When he collapsed against her, she dropped kisses to his jaw and across to his lips.

  God, could he love this woman any more? He’d find out, but for now he thought loving her was pretty much limitless.

  She nudged him, and he rolled off to give her room to breathe. She turned into his arms and they stared into each other’s eyes. “I love you, you know,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet shampoo. “I know. I’m so fucking glad.”

  “I have one question, though.”

  Opening his eyes, he searched hers for traces of hesitation or a question as to how much he loved her back. “What is it?”

  “How do I be your old lady? What does that even mean?”

  He chuckled and flattened his palm on her round rump to pull her flush against his body. “It means you love me through thick and thin.”

  “I’ll do that anyway.”

  “Then it should be easy.”

  “But do I have any roles? Fiona seems to organize charity runs and things.”

  “I’m sure she would appreciate the help. She’s so busy with the bar and all.”

  A smile spread over Catarina’s face. “I’d like to help. I want to belong.”

  “You’re with me. Of course you belong.”

  She snuggled against him. The sunset speckled orange and yellow patches of color across their entwined bodies.

  “We’d better get to the Painted Pig. We’ve got to plan the rebuild of the clubhouse.” She pushed onto her elbows.

  He rumbled a moan as he stared at her beautiful body. “You’re right. After a shower.”

  She squealed as he picked her up and whisked her off to the bathroom. While they shared a shower, he couldn’t help but think on how different his life was from months ago. He had the bike shop, doing work he loved. He had his brothers to the very end. And he had the love of his life, looking up at him with emotion glowing in her eyes.

  Nothing could be better.

  Epilogue

  The little honey with tanned skin and short shorts ran her red-clawed fingers down Patriot’s chest. Irritation slashed through him, and he removed her hand.

  He jerked his jaw upward, indicating she should go.

  The happiness in her eyes dissolved too quickly to have been genuine as she climbed off his lap and sashayed across the clubhouse to one of the other members. Patriot watched her attach herself to that guy.

  He lifted his vodka and took a healthy swallow.

  Dixon nudged him in the shoulder, bringing his head around.

  “You all right, bro?” Dixon asked.

  Brooding in his drink, he’d call it. All the shit that he’d tried like hell to keep away from the club had come down to this minute. He had to talk to Dixon about what was happening. After all, it could be a mess for the Dark Falcons—the last thing Patriot or any of them wanted.

  “I need to talk to you, Dix.”

  His president nodded and twitched his head for him to follow to the back room of the clubhouse. The new table that Patriot had planed down himself sat in the middle of the room. One of the old ladies, either Fiona or Catarina, had placed a large decal of the Dark Falcons logo on the center of the table. The same patch that rode on Patriot’s own back right now—his arm too—and had him wondering if he still deserved to wear it.

  Dixon didn’t sit—he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, gaze steady on Patriot.

  “What’s going on?”

  Patriot swallowed. They’d been friends forever. Since the good old days of
high school, running after pretty girls and tossing footballs back and forth.

  “I’ve got a problem,” Patriot said.

  “Figured that out already. You know we can talk. We’ve always been able to talk.”

  Patriot bobbed his head. “That’s true.”

  “Is this about that honey you tossed off your lap a minute ago?”

  He stared at his buddy. “Hell no. I couldn’t give a shit about her. And she doesn’t give a damn about me either. She just wants the property patch to show off to her girlfriends.”

  Dixon nodded. “When I started this club, I never figured it would grow into that. Women fighting to get in and so many prospects. We had four new requests this week.”

  “Any of the guys sponsoring those four prospects?” Patriot rolled with the conversation, hoping to put off what he had to say longer. He didn’t know how to form words to explain that he’d gotten the club into deep shit.

  “Two of ’em—Fiona’s brother Lake has taken to the one kid like he’s his own little brother. I suspect the kid’s balls haven’t even dropped yet.”

  They shared a chuckle, and then Patriot sobered. He just needed to get it over with.

  “I’ve brought trouble to the club, Dixon.”

  He eyed him, as calm as any leader should be. “How so?”

  “My construction company. We did some work two different places and both places had thefts.”

  Dixon arched a brow. “One of your crew?”

  He shook his head. “I put the fear of God into them. They’re not lyin’. They didn’t steal anything. But now the sheriff’s told me those homeowners are pressing charges against me.” He dropped his gaze to his hand. Rough from work. A big silver ring on his knuckle. “It was suggested maybe it’s someone from the club, and I gave them the opportunity.”

  For a full minute, Dixon said nothing. He straightened from the wall and came to the table. Bracing his hands on the surface, he leaned in. “Dammit. I knew eventually someone would lump us into those other biker gangs that aren’t always abiding the law.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” He never felt like such a failure as he did now, letting down his brothers. His club. Dixon.