“My old lady,” Tank replied.
“Fuck, maybe I should’ve been a Klansmen if I got a slut with tits and ass like that.” My head whipped to the side as another mountain, this time with red hair, came up beside us.
“Vike,” Tank said, gritting his teeth.
This “Vike’s” eyes stayed on my chest. “Real or fake?” My mouth dropped open in shock. “No, don’t tell me.” He stared at my tits for another minute before clicking his fingers. “Fake. Dr. Turnbull, right? I’d know his work anywhere.”
I broke from Tank. He tried to hold on, but instead I walked the few inches to Vike. I palmed my tits in both hands and said, “All real, darlin’. Tank’s a fucking lucky guy.”
Vike’s eyes widened and he groaned. “Tank,” he said, pointing at Tank’s face. “I really fuckin’ hate you right now.” Vike rubbed his hand over his dick. He looked around the room. “Now I gotta get some slut to tit-fuck my anaconda so I can picture myself coming all over yours.” He shook his head. “Bitch, I was just gonna do some tequila shots too.” He shrugged. “But when the anaconda needs feeding . . .” With that he was off across the room, grabbing a big-titted blonde and pushing her hand straight to his cock. The girl’s face lit up like it was Christmas and the big red giant was Santa Claus.
Idiot.
Reaper and Big Poppa had walked off. Tank led me to Bull and the others, but not before he’d kissed my cheek. I smiled, knowing I’d handled myself right.
When we arrived at the table, Tank nudged his head toward me. “Beauty.” He introduced everyone. “Bull, and his old lady, Letti. Styx and Lois. Bone and his old lady, Marie.”
They all flicked their chins in greeting. Letti was dark-skinned like Bull, tattooed, and scowling at me. Styx, who I knew to be Reaper’s son, barely looked at me. The brunette on his lap got up and held out her hand. “Hey, sugar.” I shook it. Bone and Marie were old. Like, really old. Marie looked haggard and worn, but her smile fucking lit up the room. As she pushed her aging body from her seat, I saw a small oxygen tank beside her. I smiled. She was rocking a cut with Bone’s name on, and leather pants. “Fucking beautiful, honey.”
“Thanks,” I said and pointed to her pants. “Good taste.” She winked and sat back down. Bull pointed at two seats beside him and Letti, and Tank and I sat down. Bull and Tank immediately started talking. Letti grabbed the bottle of whiskey and went to pour us two shots. She stopped and said to me, “Can you handle whiskey, or you more of a cooler girl?”
Her fucking sarcasm pissed me off. “Just pour the damn whiskey, darlin’. Whatever you pour I sure as shit can handle. Probably even drink your butch ass under the table.”
“That so?” Letti said, and fuck if there wasn’t a smirk pulling on her face. I knocked back the shot she poured then slammed the glass down and flicked my chin, telling her I wanted another.
After five shots, I asked, “Proved myself to you yet?” She was built for a woman, clearly lifted weights. She wore jeans and Bull’s cut. Her eyes narrowed at me. I leaned forward. “Just ’cause I got big tits, a fucking spectacular ass, and the face of an angel doesn’t mean I can’t hang with you bitches, darlin’. Remember that.”
Bull and Tank had stopped talking, and Bull was looking at his old lady like he was waiting for her to cast judgment on me. She finally shrugged and then poured me another. I knocked it back. “Most of the women here are sluts,” she said. “Pining for Hangman cock to fill their rancid pussies. As long as you don’t turn into one of them, we’re good.”
I pushed the empty shot glass to her. “Better stop fucking loading me with whiskey then, darlin’.” My head swam. “Just checking . . . there’s only one of you, right?” Letti’s mouth dropped. I laughed. “I’m just fucking with you, darlin’. But all the same, cut me the fuck off from this wife-beating fuel and get me a wine cooler up in here!”
“I knew it,” Letti said, but started laughing. My stomach squeezed at her smile, and the weight I’d been wearing on my chest since we entered here lessened some.
I wanted this for Tank.
I wanted this for us.
Lois stood up beside us as Styx got off his seat and pushed her off his lap. He was about to walk off when she pulled him back for a kiss. Styx pushed her away again after a second, then signed something to her. Lois’s face fell slightly, and she watched him walk across the bar to Ky, who was all up in another woman who was looking at him with stars in her eyes.
Lois threw on her smile again and sat down. She took a shot then looked my way. “So, Beauty. Are you from Texas?”
I nodded. “Near Waco.”
Lois nudged her head in Tank’s direction. “You been together long?”
“’Bout six months now.” I looked at Tank, who was talking to Bull and Bone.
Marie shuffled her chair closer. “There’s been talk.”
“What kind of talk?”
Marie inched closer still. Her voice was low and raspy, I guessed through years of smoking. She had an oxygen tube up her nose. When she lit up another smoke, I figured nothing was gonna stop her living her life. “’Bout your man. ’Bout making him a Hangmen prospect.”
My heart started pounding. It was what he wanted. So damn much. “Who said that?”
Marie gave me a smug smile. “Pillow talk. Through the years Bone has got a little loose lipped.” She laughed. “We’re too old to give a fuck about Reaper’s threats.”
I laughed too.
“You want that?” Letti asked, eyes locked on me. I guessed she was trying to get a true read on my reaction.
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s been lost. He needs a brotherhood to hold him down . . . as well as me.”
“It’s a hard life,” Lois said as she looked across the bar at Styx.
“Are you his old lady?” She wasn’t wearing a “Property of Styx” cut.
Lois whipped her head to me. All I saw was sadness on her face. “No . . . one day, maybe. When he finally wakes up and lets me in.” She sighed. “I’ve known him his entire life. Loved him for as long as I can remember.” She crossed her arms. Like it would protect her from something, some kind of inner pain. “But he’s always loved someone else. Since he was a kid.” She laughed, but there was no humor there. “Can’t compete with a dream girl.”
I had no fucking idea what she was talking about. Letti rolled her eyes like she was sick of hearing it, and Marie looked plain bored as fuck. But I couldn’t help feel for the woman. I put my hand on hers and squeezed it for a second.
She squeezed it back.
“So what do you do?” Letti had poured more drink. I was gonna have to learn how to handle my liquor in this place.
I shook my head, wincing as the whiskey went down. I really wanted a fucking wine cooler. I wiped my mouth, careful of my red lipstick. “Waitressing now.” I shrugged. “I was a pageant queen up until about six months ago.” Letti raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not talk about that,” I said. Tank put his hand on my leg and I held his hand. “I always wanted to do retail,” I said. “I love clothes. I mean, what bitch doesn’t love shopping?”
“Me,” Letti said.
“Okay, what bitch besides Letti doesn’t love shopping?”
Marie nodded. “You good with numbers and shit?”
I shrugged. “I was good at math at school, I suppose. I like people. Love clothes.” I smiled. “Especially if they’re made of leather.”
“I got a store,” Marie said. “Sells biker shit. Lots of fuckin’ leather.” I stilled and stared at Marie. “I got a job if you want one.” She pointed to her oxygen tank beside her. “I’m not as fit as I used to be and need a good sales girl.”
“You serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“I’d love a job.”
Marie lit up another smoke. “It’s called Ride. It’s not far from here. We sell biker shit, and also Hangmen merch for the hangers-on.”
My gut squeezed as I realized she was serious. That she was offering me something I’d always wanted. So
mething I wanted to do, not something I was being forced to do, or had to do just to get by. “Thank you . . . I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
Marie pointed to Tank. “He’ll hopefully be one of us soon. Which means you will be. Gotta keep all our businesses in the family.”
Family. As fucked-up as this place was, I guessed it was one.
I hadn’t realized Letti had got up until a bottle of wine was put down in front of me. “Might be shit. I found it in the back of the cellar. No fucking idea how old it is. No other asshole I know drinks that prissy shit.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” I said, truly touched.
“So, come on then, Beauty, tell us how you two met,” Lois said, and I started the story. I held Tank’s hand throughout. With every sentence spoken, I realized how lucky I was, and how much I loved the guy.
I’d never been so damn glad that I’d jumped on the back of his bike.
*****
One month later . . .
I shut the door of my truck behind me and ran my hand over the blue paint. Tank had bought it for me so I could get to and from work. I’d never owned my own truck before. She was my baby. I squinted up at the bright sun, then around the deserted compound. Tank lifted his head from a bike as I approached the shop. My heart clenched when he stood, wearing nothing but his jeans and boots, oil smattered all over his abs and chest. Shit, he was ripped and huge and all fucking mine.
“Baby?” Tank said, confusion on his face. I lifted the Franklin’s Barbeque bag so he could see. I looked behind him for Bull but couldn’t see him. “Fuck. Yes,” Tank said, taking the bag. He wrapped an arm around me. “You lined up all morning at Franklin’s to bring me this?”
I hugged him back. “Sure did.” I cast my eyes around the garage. “Where the hell is everyone? I bought enough to feed a friggin’ small army.”
Tank laughed as he put the barbeque down on the table. He hooked his arm around my waist. “They’re all out on a run.” I sighed when I saw the jealousy in his eyes. He wanted to be a prospect so fucking bad. But some of them still couldn’t get over his Klan past. Marie had told me that certain members didn’t trust that he wouldn’t turn coat. Didn’t trust he would protect the club against his old Klan buddies. Until they got a full house of yeses, Tank wouldn’t ever be in. “They should be back soon.”
Tank’s head dropped. I stepped closer to him and ran my long red nails down his chest. “Then”—I slipped my leg between his, and my thigh grazed across his cock—“we have the place to ourselves?”
Tank smirked and pushed down the straps of my Ride tank. My bra strap came next. He had just pulled one cup down, exposing my right tit, when a loud smashing sound came from the shop’s main entrance . . . at the gate. Tank lifted me out of the way and rushed to the front of the shop. He stilled, muscles bunching, then he spat, “Fuck!” He turned and pushed me to the back office. There was a door at the back that led to the Hangmen part of the compound. “Leave. Run!” Tank said, just as I heard a truck door opening.
My heart thudded in my chest. “Tank? What’s happening?” My voice was shaking.
His eyes met mine. “Beauty, fucking run!” He went to turn away, but then pressed his mouth to mine and rasped, “I fucking love you, woman. Know that. I fucking love you.” He shut the door to the office and turned the key. I tried the handle, but the fucker was locked. Pure fear lacing my veins, I ran to the window, hitting the glass, only to see three tatted-up skinheads walk toward Tank. My heart cracked, fucking splintered, then fell to the floor as I saw the looks on their faces . . .
. . . saw the guns and knives in their hands.
“Trace,” Tank said. I was silent. Stock still as I listened through the glass.
“You fucking traitor. You motherfucking turncoat.” The biggest of the three men—Trace—lifted a gun to Tank’s face. I stopped breathing, was paralyzed as everything seemed to stop around me. Tank jumped forward, but the gun went off. Tank hit the floor, and I screamed a silent scream. Blood pooled under Tank, and the three Klan assholes started kicking him, punching him . . . killing him. I turned, not knowing what the hell to do. In panic, I punched through the exit door and out into the compound. I needed a gun. I needed something to help Tank.
I’d only taken a single step when I heard the deafening roar of motorcycles. Following the sound, a flicker of relief starting to build inside me, I sprinted to the front of the compound, heart thundering in my chest. Every rapid beat made me feel more and more sick.
The Hangmen were rolling in. “Help!’ I screamed, my voice shaking. ‘It’s Tank! The Klan . . . they’ve found him . . . they’re killing him!” My voice broke off just as Reaper, Big Poppa, and Bull all jumped off their bikes and a gunshot echoed around us, birds fleeing from the surrounding trees.
My heart fell. In that second I was sure I heard my soul scream out in agony.
“No . . . ” I whispered.
Reaper pulled his Glock from his cut and smiled as he ran toward the bike shop. I ran too. I didn’t give a shit if I wasn’t supposed to. That was my man, the fucking love of my life, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
As I rounded the corner, my feet stumbled at what I saw. Tank was on his feet, every inch of his bared flesh covered in blood. His right arm hung at his side, blood pouring from the gunshot wound and stab wounds that peppered his body. Two of the men were lying on the floor. One had a knife sticking out of his heart, and the other had a bullet in his forehead, his eyes open in death.
Trace was still in front of him. His gun was nowhere in sight, but his knife was in his hand and he was closing in on Tank. My baby was weak, his legs shaking and almost giving up on him. My hands covered my mouth as Trace lunged right at Tank’s heart, but before Trace could get there, Reaper fired a shot straight into Trace’s thigh. Trace fell to the floor. Tank looked up, eyes fucking blown and wild, until he saw the Hangmen closing in and me standing behind them. He seemed to take a long breath as he fell to the ground. I ran up to him, pushing past all the brothers in my way. I grabbed his hand. My vision blurred with tears.
Tank turned to Reaper. “Explosives . . . in the truck . . . were going to . . . blow . . . the club.” My face paled. Reaper nodded, and a couple of the other guys dragged Trace away.
“Baby?” I whispered as Tank’s eyes started closing. “He needs help!” I cried, inching closer to him and pressing my hand to the gunshot wound.
“Doc’s on his way.” Bull leaned down to press his hands to two of the biggest knife wounds. Leaning forward, I kissed Tank’s lips, not giving one fuck if I got blood in my mouth. I kissed him and told him he was gonna be okay. He wasn’t going anywhere without me.
I loved him. He had to survive.
I could no longer breathe without him.
Chapter Five
Tank
No fucking way. It couldn’t be him.
Trace looked me dead in the eyes, and I saw the hatred, the fucking betrayal in his. “Trace.” I stood my ground.
I knew this day would come. I knew that someone would have been pissed I was working for the Hangmen. I knew Tanner wouldn’t have been able to keep them all off my back. My heart fucking fell when I wondered if Tanner knew about this . . .
“You fucking traitor. You motherfucking turncoat!” My hands fisted at my side as Trace lifted his gun and pointed it right at my face. The veins in his neck stood out as he shook with red-hot anger. He spat at my feet. “Turning from your white brothers for these impure cunts?”
“Yeah. I did.” I saw the moment he made up his mind to shoot. I saw his snarl of pure disgust and just acted. Jumping forward, I knocked his hand enough to get it from my face, but the asshole managed to shoot and I felt the slug sink straight into my shoulder. I fell back from the force of the bullet, the fucking blistering pain slicing through me.
Trace and two other assholes I didn’t even know let their boots fly, their fists. “No one fucking leaves the Klan alive,” Trace spat as the back of his gun sliced across m
y face. He bent down and stared me right in the eyes. “You’re gonna die, cunt. You’re gonna die for turning your back and joining a club that lets in the impure—blacks and spics and motherfucking browns.” I took a breath, glancing at one of the dicks to my side. His knife hung loosely in his hand as he rammed his boot into my side again and again.
I flexed my hand, then got ready. When he knelt down again, Trace’s fucking mouth spurting shit I wasn’t even hearing, I lurched, grabbing the guy’s knife and stabbing him straight through his heart. The fucker fell above me, knocking his friend and Trace back. His mouth landed near my ear. He coughed and sputtered, his blood joining mine on my chest. So I shoved the knife deeper, twisting so the asshole would feel every single thing as the life drained from him.
Taking a long breath, I slid from under the asshole and got to my feet. His friend gave me no time to get my shit together. He flew at me, gun held out. But I’d been fighting for my fucking life since I was a kid whose pop wanted to use him as a punch bag. I’d taken out blacks and Mexicans and a whole bunch of Catholics and Jews under Landry. He’d made me his perfect solider. This asshole was nothing.
Slamming my elbow down on his arm, I grabbed the gun from his hand. I didn’t even blink as I turned the gun on him and sent a bullet straight into his head. The asshole dropped, leaving me looking right at Trace. He was shaking with rage. “I fucking recruited you. Landry chose you over his soldiers who’d been with him longer, and you turned on us all, for what?”
“It’s bullshit,” I hissed out, blood and spit spraying from my mouth onto the ground. “It’s all bullshit.” I shook my head. “They just take in loser kids like us and fill our heads with bullshit.”
“Traitor,” Trace growled as he launched forward. He tried to grab me, but his hands slipped off my blood-soaked skin. His gun clattered to the ground, but when he came at me again, my strength faded and my gun slipped from my grip. Trace pulled a knife from the waistband of his jeans and launched himself at me. I stepped back, but it wasn’t enough to completely get away from the blade. The steel sank into my side, and I heard a hiss of satisfaction slip from Trace’s lips. The pain wasn’t as great this time; my body was getting numb.