“Great.” Tank held a hand out to Justice. “How’s it going?”
“I can’t complain.” Justice, a tall Black man with serious eyes and a no-bullshit attitude, had a voice as deep and distinct as James Earl Jones’s. He shook Tank’s hand and pulled him closer, clapping him on the back. “I got that info you asked for.”
Justice handled the club’s legal affairs, and Tank had spoken to him about Leah’s accident. Tank looked at Blaine and Maverick. “We’ll be right back.”
As he and Justice walked away, Justice said, “The guy driving the truck that hit Leah is from Connecticut. He was in town to see his girlfriend. They went out for dinner and he left her at the restaurant because they got in a fight. He was not over the legal limit for alcohol, but he was in a texting argument with his girlfriend, and they think he was going about seventy when he hit Leah’s car.”
“Jesus Christ. That’s a thirty zone.” Tank hands fisted. “Leah’s brother died because of fucking texts, and that asshole got away with little more than stitches and bruises. I’d like to get my hands on him.”
“Tank, you know how this works,” Justice said sternly. “He’s out on bond, but they’re charging him with involuntary manslaughter, which carries up to a twenty-year prison sentence.”
“But he’s out there living his life, and Leah is never going to see her brother again.” Anger roiled inside him. “Those two little girls are River’s children. Now the girls will never know him. I want to do right by them, Justice. I’ll cover your legal fees, but I want that motherfucker to pay for everything the three of them have lost.”
“I hear you, Tank. But cases like these can take years to play out. You need to make sure that’s what Leah wants. Have you talked with her about it yet?”
“No. She’s fragile. She’s burying her younger brother tomorrow.” Tank’s throat constricted. “She needs some time. I’m just…” So fucking sad for them.
“I’m here for you, and I’ll do whatever she decides is best. But you know that no amount of money will bring her brother back. Before you go in there with guns blazing, please think about what it will be like for Leah to be dragged through a court case. It’s hard to heal when you’re trying to put a dollar value on your loved one’s life.”
“Fuck. I get that, but if you knew her, if you knew the girls…”
“I get it, Tank. I just want you to be aware of the consequences. If she sues, the insurance company pays whatever she’s awarded, which is why those types of cases can take years. Insurance companies have the time and resources to fight major claims. There is an alternative, if the guy’s got money. I can talk with the prosecuting attorney about victim restitution and maybe negotiate it as part of a plea deal.”
“A plea deal? That’s bullshit.”
“None of this is good, Tank. Either Leah and the girls spend years fighting in court, or we go the restitution route, which could give her quick justice but less money. I suggest you find out what Leah wants.”
“Right,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You’re pretty riled up over her.” Justice lowered his chin, giving Tank a compassionate, but no-bullshit, stare. “Is there something between you two?”
“I hope there will be one day, but she’s worried about the girls getting hurt if it doesn’t work out.”
“She sounds like a good mother. You know I don’t introduce women I hook up with to Patience.” Patience was Justice’s three-year-old daughter. “Patience comes first, and she always will.”
Tank didn’t want to just hook up with Leah. “Yeah, I get it,” he said as Gunner sauntered over with Zeke and Zander.
Gunner draped an arm around Tank’s shoulder and smirked. “Guess Leah got sick of looking at your ugly mug, huh?”
“Guess so.” Tank shrugged him off. He didn’t have the tolerance for banter today.
“I’m just dickin’ with you, bro. How’s she doing? The girls are so damn cute, they almost make me want to have one.”
“Lord help us all.” Zeke laughed. “Can you imagine a little Gunny running around?”
“Hell, yeah. We’d call him Pistol,” Gunner corrected him. “Or maybe Sig? Moss? Barretta?”
“Winnie for a girl,” Zander suggested. “Like Winchester.”
“Maybe next you can share hair and makeup tips,” Justice joked.
“I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m ready to ride.” Tank headed for his bike.
“That’s not what she said.” Zander laughed.
Tank scoffed, and all the guys started razzing him as they rallied the troops and climbed onto their bikes. Tank and Blaine led the pack, and the others fell into line behind them. When they pulled onto the highway, the road opened up, and Tank waited for that feeling of freedom to engulf him. But Junie’s voice kept traipsing through his mind. Can I go with you? I pwomise to be good.
He sped down the highway, trying like hell to outrun those memories, but Leah’s tortured face appeared in his mind, and he heard the cracking of her voice—Even if I want to be with you, I can’t put the girls’ emotions at risk—and Rosie’s chipper, He comin’ back!
Tank gritted his teeth. Damn right I am.
It had taken thirty-two years for him to feel like this. There was no way in hell he’d let the three best things that had ever happened to him slip through his fingers.
COULD THIS DAY get any worse?
Leah picked up the carton of orange juice she’d dropped and grabbed the roll of paper towels to clean it up. The girls were whiny and cranky, and Junie had been sulking all day. It hadn’t helped that Leah had burned the pancakes, causing the girls to melt down, which had made her cry. Lunch hadn’t turned out any better. She’d hidden in the bathroom to let it all out, only to find out there was no end to her sadness.
“I wish Tank was here,” Junie said for the millionth time from the couch, where she was curled up with her memory blanket, clutching Mine’s ears. She must have looked out the window a hundred times already.
So do I.
Leah couldn’t believe how much she missed him. The ache was constant. She closed her eyes for a second, breathing deeply, and then she began sopping up the mess.
Rosie stomped into the kitchen, scowling. “You bad! You say Tank go.” She turned and stomped away.
Tears spilled from Leah’s eyes. The girls had prodded her after Tank had left, and she’d gotten so agitated, she’d made the mistake of telling them that she’d asked him to leave.
There was a knock at the door, and the girls yelled, “Tank!” They ran to the door, and Leah was right behind them, the spill forgotten. As Junie pulled the door open, Leah’s hopes plunged at the sight of Ginger standing on their porch.
“You’re not Tank,” Junie said sullenly, and skulked back to the couch.
“You no Tank,” Rosie parroted, and ran after Junie.
Leah tried to stifle her own jilted hopes. “Sorry, Ginger. It’s been a long day. Come in.”
“It’s okay.” Ginger looked compassionately at the girls as she stepped inside. Lowering her voice, she said, “I didn’t know you were expecting Tank. He said he was going for a motorcycle ride with the guys and asked if I could stop by and see if you needed anything.”