Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
“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.