“Yo, Maniac, pass the fries.” Tank jerked his head toward the communal basket of fries at the center of the table.
“Sure thing, bro.” Maniac stuffed a handful in his mouth and passed the basket down the table at Dominic’s bar, a local hangout on the main strip the club frequented more often than not. “You get the next round.”
“Yeah, in your dreams. This is gonna be my last one for the night. I gotta head home.”
“You got a nice piece of ass waiting for you there, huh?”
Tank nursed his beer and checked his phone.
Still nothing.
Why he was even bothering to worry about the fact that Lena hadn’t texted him back in her normal two-hour window was beyond his comprehension. Meanwhile, Quinn had been blowing up his phone for the past half hour after her little surprise call that afternoon. Whatever the hell that was all about was another thing he wasn’t going to entertain. He rubbed a hand down his face and looked around the mostly buzzing bar.
“Not so much, man. Keeping my shit on ice for a while.”
“I get you. Stupid, but I get you.” Maniac saluted him with a beer and took a big swig. “What about Quinn? You been tappin’ that? She’s practically following you around wherever you go, isn’t she?”
“Pretty much.” Tank dug into the fries sitting in front of him.
Things had been electric with Lena—amazing, even. But women were always on their best behavior in the beginning. He remembered that clear enough during his first marriage. Trish had blown his mind six ways to Sunday, and he hadn’t thought it was possible to find anyone so perfect for him. That had been the first few months of bliss, knock-his-socks-off sex, and devoting herself to making him happy.
It had been a honeymoon without a marriage, the best of both worlds, until it had gone so fucking wrong. As soon as she had a ring on her finger, she’d done a complete one-eighty. He couldn’t even fathom that she was the woman sleeping in bed with him every night. Not that he was sleeping in his own bed at that point, anyway. By then, she had it in her head that he was cheating on her with anything in a skirt that moved. Her suspicions were immoveable, so he had a permanent spot on their couch.
Fuck, that had been a shitty time. He hardly liked to think about it, let alone dwell on it. Because of Trish’s hyper-crazy ways, he became well-aware of how intimately women could draw a man into their web before turning on him and eating his still beating heart from his chest. She had been his first and only indoctrination to serious relationship life.
Although he and Lena had a good thing going, that wasn’t any indication that it was going to continue to be good. Damn, he was obsessing over this like a woman, and it was getting truly pathetic.
“I’m getting a shot.”
Tank pushed back from the table where a handful of his brothers were drinking and shooting the shit. There was nothing in his head right now that needed to be there, which meant it was time for a major attitude adjustment. He went to the bar and tried to get the bartender’s attention. Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon. A group of eager bachelorettes were crowded around his half of the bar, making it highly unlikely he would get any halfway decent service.
He leaned against the bar top and closed his eyes, trying to think about anything but Lena’s gorgeous, soft skin draped underneath his body. She was… life-altering. And that was the fucking problem, wasn’t it? There was nothing in this world that could make him commit again. Nothing that would drag him back into that hellish pit he’d sunk into as soon as he got married the first time. He sure as hell wasn’t looking for marriage this time around, but that’s where all serious relationships led to. All women dreamed of that shit.
“White picket fence, dog, and two point five tiny screamers,” Tank muttered to himself as he rubbed the back of his neck.
The last thing he wanted was to be tied to someone who was only going to be fake as fuck, and then show their true colors once he exposed his belly and was all in for the ride. There wasn’t much that could convince him otherwise—even Lena. Sure, they had their fun. That morning with her was amazing, easy, and enjoyable. And he was doing his due diligence by checking up on her, seeing how she was doing every day since then because, well, because that was the fucking polite thing to do.
Yeah, he could just keep convincing himself of that fact. He tried to hail the busy bartender again. The truth was he liked spending time with Lena, reading her texts, and hearing her voice on the phone. His throat was starting to close up at the ideas that were spinning through his head.
Suddenly, glass was shattering. As soon as his head jerked up, a sonic whoosh of an explosion. followed the commotion. He would know that sound anywhere. Without waiting, Tank threw himself into action. His long legs ate up the distance from the bar to the front door, and he was outside on the sidewalk of Main Street, looking across at Dresden Dry Cleaners before he could process that he’d moved at all.
He watched the tail end of a group of motorcycles pull out from the dry cleaners’ parking lot, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. They were wearing the club’s cuts on their backs. As rage tightened in his belly and throat, he took a deep breath and tried to assess the situation.
“Motherfucker,” Tank swore, watching the swirl of fire blaze through the shop window. “Those sonsofbitches.”
Maniac nearly barreled into him in his rush to see what had happened.
“Make sure they call 911. Go!” Tank yelled.
Maniac wasted no time and headed back inside the bar. For all Tank knew, units were already on their way to put out the blaze. But as he stared at the senseless destruction, he didn’t want to take any chances. He’d known Gus Dresden for years, since he was fourteen, and got his after school job at the shop sweeping the place up. Now, to see the old man’s store go up in flames like so much garbage… Fuck. It was uncalled for and insane. This isn’t how the club should be doing shit. Dammit.
“This shit pisses me the hell off,” Maniac said from over his left shoulder. “Gus is a cool dude—he never did a damn thing to the club.”
“Where the fuck are the damn badges?” Ice said, joining them on the sidewalk.
“I told Lou to call 911,” Maniac replied.
“I’m sure a dozen citizens are calling in, so where the hell are they?” Lynch asked. “Doing this to Gus fuckin’ blows!”
“Collecting protection money is one thing, but this is out of line,” Tank seethed, unable to see past the thick anger and dark plumes of smoke clouding his vision. “We didn’t talk about this shit in church. It’s not fuckin’ right.”
“Do you think Raptor knew about this?” Ice said.
“I can’t believe he’d be okay with this,” Lynch replied.
Ice shrugged. “That’s what we thought about the collection shit. Who knows what’s goin’ on in his fucked up mind?”
“No fuckin’ way Raptor would be okay with this, and if Hammer says he is, it’s a damn lie,” Tank said.
“I know you were tight with Gus. I get it. Come back inside and we’ll talk about it, bro,” Lynch said.
“Talk about what? I’m sick of this bullshit. I’m going to the damn clubhouse tonight to get some fuckin’ answers. You guys down with me?”