Текст книги "Tank"
Автор книги: Carmen Jenner
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Prez calls the end of the meet, and all four bodies in attendance, including that crazy old fucker, Country, file out. I hang back to talk to Prez, only Raine skips in wearing a flouncy little fuckin’ sundress that makes her legs look edible, and I have to avert my eyes to ensure my balls don’t get cut off and handed to me in a paper bag. Only Prez isn’t looking at me—his eyes are firmly fixed on Raine’s cleavage as she bends over in front of him and sets his coffee and one of those fancy fuckin’ muffins she brings in special for him every day. I look too, but you can’t blame a man. Her tits are on display, and the best part is she’s not even aware of it—it’s not intentional. In fact, she’d likely turn beet red and hightail it out of the room if she knew we were both checking her out.
Unintentional cleavage is always better. It’s like the Holy fuckin’ Grail of tit gawking. Some women are showy like that, and some just aren’t. Some have no idea what kind of power they hold over you, and others, other women like Ivy? They know it. They’re all too keenly aware, and they exploit it.
“You got somethin’ else you wanna talk to me about, brother?” Prez asks, and Raine looks up and blushes when she realises I’m still here watching her. I’m kind of offended that she didn’t know I was in the room. I’m pretty fuckin’ hard to miss.
“Yeah, I do,” I say, and lean back in my chair. “You got another one of those muffins for me, Raine, darlin’?”
Raine’s eyes widen. She’s a sweet girl, but I don’t make a habit of talking to her. I don’t make a habit of talking to anyone around here much, except Prez, Kick and Ivy. “Uh … no. I’m sorry. I can head down the street and—”
“What does she look like, your fuckin’ slave?” Prez says, leaning forward in his seat and resting his hands on the table. I smirk, ’cause Raine’s adorable when she’s nervous—or, more nervous than usual—and I just like to mess with Prez, ’cause the dumb fucker is so far gone for this sweet little piece of arse that he don’t even realise he’s wearing that shit not just on his sleeve, but he’s got her tattooed all over his fuckin’ forehead. Dumbarse.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
Prez catches her hand before she can turn away, and she glances down at his big oil-stained fingers encircling her wrist. “You ain’t gotta bring anyone those muffins but me, darlin’. You got that?”
She nods and scurries from the room. I turn and watch her arse as she leaves, and I’m met with a cold, hard threat from my Prez because of it. “You lookin’ to have those pretty baby blues of yours removed, Tank?”
I grin. “Nah. She’s a fucking peach, real ripe and juicy that one, but I like my eyes, and my balls where they are. Besides, I got enough shit to deal with since the junkie moved in.”
“How’s she doing?”
“You mean when she’s not trying to claw my face off, holding Killer at gunpoint and shooting him in the chest as she runs away? She’s a fuckin’ walking advert for schizophrenia, Prez.”
“You takin’ care of her right? Getting’ her clean? Meetin’ her other needs?”
“I got all her needs but the one for drugs met, Prez,” I say, and it’s my turn to lean forward, resting my arms on the table, and staring him down the way he’d stared at me. He doesn’t need to know that she and I ain’t havin’ sex. We’ll get there. Neither one of us are goin’ anywhere. “And that’s how it’s gonna stay.”
“Boys are gettin’ lonely, Tank. Missin’ their girl.”
“She’s never been their girl,” I snap. “I’m the one she came lookin’ for. I’m the only one that gets to call her that.”
Prez leans back in his chair and folds his arms behind his head. I don’t like the turn this conversation has taken. I don’t like the fuckin’ smirk on his face. If it were anyone else I’d wipe ’em fucking clean of it. Smarmy fuckin’ bastard.
“You were really fuckin’ serious, weren’t you?” he asks, and his cocky smile is an all-out grin now. “About claimin’ her for your woman?”
“As a fuckin’ heart attack. Bitch is mine,” I warn. “And I’ll risk my cut to defend her.”
“Alright, alright. Calm your fuckin’ farm, arsehole.” He smiles and then shakes his head, taking a sip from his coffee. “Guess I’m in the market for a new girl then.”
“Guess so.”
“This isn’t why you came to talk to me though.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. “It is about Ivy, though.”
“Of course it is.” Prez says.
“I wanna know who the bastard is. I want a name, and I want a fuckin’ address.”
“Ah, shit.” He scrubs a hand over his beard. “I knew you were gonna make this complicated. Actually, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t come to me before now. I’m sorry, brother, but I can’t give you a name.”
“What do you mean you can’t give me a name?” I ask. He better start talkin’ real fuckin’ soon, because I’m about to lose my shit entirely. “You know who he is, right?”
Prez gives a solemn nod. “I know. Ivy came to me her very first day and struck herself a deal. I’d keep him away from her, give her a roof over her head, food, and the protection of my club if she’d take care of my men.”
My jaw ticks, and I find myself balling my fists together on the table. “She never told me that.”
“I’d bet my arse there’s a lot of shit she hasn’t told you, brother.”
“Looks like.”
“Don’t be too hard on the girl,” he says, taking a bite out of the muffin Raine left for him. “She didn’t want anyone to know. I don’t even think she told Kick all the shit about her old man—”
“I need to find him,” I say.
“Bad idea.”
“He’s a fucking animal, Prez. He deserves to be strung up and flayed open. This is Ivy we’re talkin’ about. She’s family and he fucked her up worse than any of the shit that fucker down at the café did to Raine. We’ve put people down for a lot less.”
“Listen, there’s nothing I’d love more than to give this fucker his just deserts, but it’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” I seethe.
“He’s workin’ with the Russians.”
“Fuck,” I say, and shove away from the table. My chair clatters to the floor and I pace, runnin’ my hands through my hair. I grip the back of my head and let out a deep breath.
“Yeah, fuck is right. With this deal goin’ south with Ryzhanov, drawin’ any more attention to ourselves is fuckin’ suicide.”
“You mean you’ve known all along where this fucker is? You’ve known exactly what she’s been runnin’ from all these years, and you haven’t put a fuckin’ bullet in his head?”
“We can’t risk it.”
“And what about her, huh, Prez? What about Ivy and what she’s risking? What I’m risking by keeping her arse at the cabin? You think about that?”
He nods. “Yeah, I thought about that, arsehole. That girl may be every shade of fucked up, but she’s still family. Of course I fuckin’ thought about that. Why the fuck do you think she isn’t in Kick’s care right now?”
“Maybe ’cause he has some other bitch to contend with.”
“Yeah, she’s a problem, but not one he couldn’t handle. He’d take on both women if I told him he had to, but he ain’t what she needs right now.”
“And I am?”
He stares at me for a long time and nods. “Yeah, brother, you are. That girl ain’t got a single living soul in the world that’d see this through better than you can. You’re exactly what she needs. That cabin is exactly what she needs, and as long as you keep her there, she’ll be fine. No more fuckin’ field trips, you got me?”
“You’re watching me?”
Prez’s eyes are glitterin’ with rage when he says, “In all the years I’ve known you, have you ever needed to doubt my trust in you?”
“No.”
“I didn’t have you watched, motherfucker. Grim caught sight of the two of you leavin’ that fancy lingerie store as he was comin’ back from my place. Said the bitch was all over you like a gold-diggin’ whore on a carcass.” Prez smirks. “Ivy’s always been the kinda girl who wants what’s bad for her. Maybe it’s a condition of her upbringing, maybe it’s just fuckin’ stupid female logic. I don’t fuckin’ know. But either way, you want her on the back of your bike permanently? You gotta nail that bitch down. Show her that she’s yours and only yours. Right now, with you is the safest place she can be. When her old man is out of the picture with the Russians, we move in and take that fucker out. But he’s been there a long time, brother, probably as long as you been jonesing for his sweet daughter’s pussy, and I don’t see it changin’ anytime soon. For now, we don’t make a move until this Ryzhanov headfuck has blown over.”
“This is bullshit,” I say and lash out at my overturned chair, unleashing my anger. I kick the fuck out of it for several moments, and all the while I feel the weight of my Prez’s stare.
“We don’t make a move until I have the Cold King’s balls in my hands, you got me? You hearing me loud and fuckin’ clear on that, arsehole?” Prez says, getting up from the table. He stops beside me and leans his head in real close. Too fucking close. “We leave the fucker alone until I say he’s all yours. That’s an order, Tank.”
“Yeah, Prez, I hear ya,” I snap. “Loud and fuckin’ clear.”
“Good. Now get your arse back to that cabin. I got another mark for you in the next few days and I’m gonna need surveillance on a residence—”
“Someone else can’t take it?”
“Don’t you think that if I had someone else to take it I wouldn’t be callin’ you in here, motherfucker? I told you yesterday I got every spare man I have wrapped up in this bullshit with Kick’s bitch. I got Feds crawlin’ all over my arse tryin’ to track down our men for questioning, and this shit with the Russians ain’t gonna fix itself.” Prez walks back to his seat, and picks up his coffee. He’s not that much older than me, but today he looks haggard.
“I need you on your fuckin’ game, brother.” He runs a hand down over his face, and leans back in his chair. “I know this shit with Ivy is doin’ a real fuckin’ number on ya, but right now my priority is keeping every single member of this club safe and away from a holdin’ cell.”
“Yeah, Prez. I got it,” I say, and pinch the bridge of my nose. Only I don’t got it, because I need that fucker strung up like a pig on a meat hook. I need to make him pay, and I can’t wait for this thing with the Cold King to blow over, because it means playing fuckin’ Russian Roulette with Ivy’s life, and I reckon she’s done enough of that shit to last a lifetime.
“Good. Now get the fuck outta here. I got shit with the fuckin’ bitch wife that needs straightening out.”
“Looks to me like you got some shit with pretty little Raine to sort out, too.”
Prez shoots me a look full of venom and says, “There’s the door, motherfucker. Walk through it before my piece goes through you.”
I chuckle half-heartedly, and make my way over to it.
“I mean it, Tank. You slow your fuckin’ roll on that cunt, you hear? I don’t need the Russians up my arse ’cause you couldn’t control your fuckin’ temper.”
I sigh and don’t bother to turn around. What’s the fuckin’ point? He’s just going to stare at me with that pissed off expression, and I’m just going to glare back twice as fuckin’ pissed off because it’s my old lady’s life on the line.
Prez and I are too much alike. Both stubborn and pig-headed, neither one of us are real keen on being told what to do, and we’re both gonna disagree on this front, because even though he may claim that Ivy is family to him as well as to my club brothers, she’s more than that to me. She’s not just family, and she’s not just someone I want to fuck—she’s my woman. That makes her more than family, and I’ll stop at nothing to keep her safe.
The question is: can she handle that?
She doesn’t talk about her father, ever. She won’t let anyone in on that front. The most I think she’s ever told anyone was to Kick, and even he’s too fucked up to really comprehend the kind of gift she was giving him. Kick didn’t care that Ivy loved him enough to entrust that information to him, Kick only cared that he finally had someone to indulge in his pathetic little fantasies with. Sick fucker.
It tears me apart knowing she’s in love with him, and he doesn’t even fuckin’ see what he has. I guess we’re not so different, him and me. We both tried to save the women we loved, and we’ve both found ourselves miserably fucking short when it came to making shit right. I’m going to change that. I’ll save this bitch if it’s the very last thing I fuckin’ do. And she may hate me, but I don’t give a shit, because at least she’ll be alive to do it.
Kick doesn’t care enough about Ivy to help get her clean, and he certainly doesn’t care enough to seek out her father and kill him. He’d more than likely track the fucker down just to watch the expression on Ivy’s face when he revealed what he was hiding up his sleeve.
He’s not all bad, just seriously fucked up. Despite this colossal fuck up with the warehouse and saving the stray, he’s usually a good man to have at your back. I trust him with my life. I just don’t know if I’d trust him with my woman. I don’t know what it is about the little fucker—I’ve always liked him. Always felt a brotherly bond beyond the one the patch gives us. I betrayed my first club because my loyalty was more tied to him than the patch I wore, or the Prez I’d pledged loyalty to. I even fuckin’ went against what my new club Prez would have wanted me to do when it came to keeping that bitch in the warehouse alive. People are gonna think I’ve gone fuckin’ soft.
Maybe I have. Between Kick and this shit with Ivy, I feel as though my balls have been shoved into a vice and squeezed until they fuckin’ exploded all over the goddamn room. This is why I don’t get attached to anyone or anything. Because you become a liability. Love makes you a liability.
I head out of church and through the hall leading to the main lounge. Crazy has Neischa bent over the black leather couch. She’s the pig in a spit roast sandwich between Crazy and Grim. And while Grim stands there having his dick sucked by a bitch we all like to call Hoover, he’s glaring at Raine. She pretends not to notice the threesome taking place four feet from where she’s wiping down the bar. Country is seated at the bar, too. When is he not? He’s prattling on about his fucking chickens or some shit, and he’s too deaf, dumb and fuckin’ blind to notice the threesome taking place a few feet away.
Raine’s not though. Try as she might, she’s completely embarrassed. Her cheeks are beet-red and every time Grim grunts she flushes a deeper shade of scarlet. Jesus, it’s like watching a fuckin’ day-time soap, only with more bodily fluids. Stupid arseholes, every one of them. I turn and walk down the opposite hall, toward my room. Standing in front of my door, I fish the key out of my pocket and slide it in the lock. I spare a brief glance at Kick’s room, beside mine. His door is closed, but he’s not there. He’s holding that bitch we found in the warehouse hostage up at Prez’s cabin. On any normal day at the clubhouse, I’d find myself wandering into his room lookin’ for Ivy. She was always in there. Hell, she basically lived with Kick. Kept a bag full of all her stuff in his cupboard. Her drugs, too.
I hated seeing him with her, but it’s not like I had another choice. I might have seen it differently, but Ivy belonged to everyone. Not me. In her mind she belonged to Kick. In the minds of the rest of my club brothers, she was fair game as long as she was up for a good time and a quick fuck. But none of those fuckers cared about her. Not a single one cared enough to help get her straight.
I open my door and push inside. I don’t shut it behind me because I’m not staying long enough for it to really make a difference. I head to the bedside table and rummage around in the drawer, grasping for the other burner phone I keep stashed away in a compartment under the bedside table. The one I keep for situations that have nothing to do with club business.
I locate it and pull it out, and then I glance up and see Brooke standin’ in the doorway.
Shit. Guess I’ll be finding myself a new hiding spot.
Brooke’s tall, blond, and skinnier than a crack whore. We’ve gone at it like rabbits a few times, and Brooke comes harder than any female I’ve ever fucked. She’s a sweet kid, she’s just not … well, Ivy.
She leans in the doorway with a soft smile on her face. “Tank?”
“What’s up, babe?”
“I was just wondering how Ivy is?” she asks, as she enters the room and sits down beside me on the edge of the bed.
“She’s doin’ okay. It’s been tough. Real fuckin’ tough, but she’s getting there,” I say, a little impatiently. I wanted to get this out of the way while I was here instead of bringing the burner back to the cabin, but I guess it can wait until tomorrow. Besides, if that fucker winds up dead the day Prez tells me to put a fuckin’ lid on any ideas I may have had about offing him, I’m gonna have one seriously pissed off Prez gunnin’ for my arse.
“Oh, okay … good,” she says, and I feel like a heartless fuck because I know she can sense my irritation. She stands, looking down at me with pursed lips and a pinched brow. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then. Tell her the girls said hi, and that we miss her.”
“Hey.” I reach out and encircle her wrist before she can leave. “There somethin’ else you wanna tell me?”
“Nope,” she says, with a plastered on fake smile. “All good here.”
“Bullshit,” I say, and pull her down on the bed. She falls mostly into my lap. Brooke looks up at me with these soft blue doe eyes and leans in for a kiss. Her lips crash down on mine, and her tongue thrusts into my mouth. I don’t kiss her back and after a moment her hand flies to my cock and she gently squeezes. I slide my hands into her hair and gently pull away. I meet her gaze evenly, but my brow is arched because being this forward isn’t like Brooke at all. I know she’s a club whore, and she’s damn good with her mouth and those tiny hands of hers, but normally she waits for someone else to make the first move.
Her eyes are big and pleading, and … fuck me, is she crying? “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, darlin’,” I say, letting her curl into me and wrapping my arms around her because I’m not a total arsehole.
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“What?”
She looks up at me and pouts a little. “That you’ve made Ivy your old lady?”
“Well, that’s up to her I guess, but yeah, I’ve staked my claim.”
“She’s a lucky girl.”
“What’s goin’ on, Brooke? You seem kinda shaken up.”
“I spent the morning with One Eye. He’s ah … a little rougher than usual these days and I thought being with a real man, you know, a man who doesn’t hurt women … well, I thought that … never mind. It’s not important.” She shifts in my lap, as if she’s about to get up and scurry away like a frightened little field mouse, but I hold her firmly to me. With my free hand I grab her chin and tilt her head to the side, and then back and forth in order to see all the angles of her face. I don’t see any bruises.
“He hurt you?”
She places her small hand over mine and wriggles out of my grasp. She stands and pulls up her skirt all the way until her panties are revealed. At first I wonder what the fuck she’s doin’, testin’ my willpower after I just told her no, but then I see the purple marks covering her upper thighs.
“Jesus, fuck. One Eye did that to you?” I have to ask, because it’s seems like more of a Kick thing to bruise and punish. I don’t trust One Eye, especially when it comes to my boy. He knows something about my past or Kick’s, or maybe he just suspects. Either way, the fucker can’t be trusted, and now this? “I’m gonna kill him.”
“No, don’t say anything. Please. I just … well, I guess now that Ivy’s gone, the boys who like to play rough don’t understand that we’re not all into being choked and beaten the way she is.”
Ouch. That stung like a motherfucker. Not that I wasn’t aware of Ivy’s penchant for taking it rough, but I still don’t like the thought of any of them having her, much less some fat fuck who thinks it’s okay to beat her. I’m going to deliver a whole world of pain to that dumb fuck when I see him next.
“I’ll sort him out, babe, but the next time he tries that shit, you tell Prez, you got me?”
“Okay.” She nods her head slowly, as if she’s afraid even that action will be too much and that One Eye’s gonna charge through the door and beat the shit outta her. He’s a dumb fuck, that’s for sure, but I seriously doubt he’d try anything with me here. Which just makes me hate him even more. Gutless wonder.
“Thanks, Tank,” she says, but she’s resigned, and I’m sure she thinks I’m not going to do shit about this. She’s dead wrong.
I follow her, and give her a playful smack on the arse as she walks down the hall ahead of me. I don’t want her feelin’ awkward about what just happened or didn’t happen. After all, it’s not her fault I’m a complete fuckin’ chump.
I walk past the threesome, which has turned into an all-out orgy now that Diesel and Squeals, our newest prospects have joined the fuckfest.
Brooke rolls her eyes at me and then she throws a wink over her shoulder as she addresses the room, “You boys are going to wear Neischa out.”
“You offering up yourself to the slaughter, sweet thing?” Diesel growls low in his throat, and I chuckle. Cocky bastard doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. He walks over to Brooke, dick on full display for the entire room. You’d think being in a clubhouse of rough and bad-arse fucks that you’d never get to see another man’s cock. You’d be wrong. Between the time I’d spent on the inside, and the time I’ve been with the Saints, and the Angels before that, well … I’ve seen more than enough dick to last a lifetime. More than enough to know I earned my road name Tank in every sense of the word.
Instead of leavin’ like I’d planned, I head down the hall and talk to Prez about the way One Eye’s treating the girls.
I tell him he’s gotta sort that fucker out or I’ll be havin’ myself a little play date. The bastard gives me a humourless laugh, and says, “Don’t wanna bring Ivy back, do ya?” I fold my arms over my chest and just glare at him. “Yeah, yeah, she’s your old lady now, I got it.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m flying down the M4 on my bike. I pull off at the last fast food joint on my way home and pick up some dinner for Ivy. In a way, I’m dreading what I’ll find when I walk through that door. She’s had plenty of time to run, but I can’t keep her tied to a fucking chair forever. She was fool enough to fall for it once, but she won’t fall for it again. I took a huge fuckin’ risk leavin’ her unrestrained and to her own devices in that cabin, and I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the arse.
