“Hard liquor,” Tank said when she took her first sip. “My kinda girl.”
That got him a smile and the mist cleared from her eyes. “Why are you so sure your friend is alive?”
“I saw him.” He fingered his phone, itching to show her the video. But he wasn’t stupid. T-Rex had taught him that. He’d stolen that tape at gunpoint, and he knew better than to serve up that kind of story to a reporter. And, although Banks’ warning had ruffled his feathers, he respected the bartender enough to be careful around Ella, especially when he had a real serious buzz going after an evening of drinking. “It was at a gas station, and I played the scene over and over in my head. It was the little things—the way he moved, the tat on his arm, the pizza he was eating—it’s hard to explain.”
“Sounds right up my alley.” She smiled—a real smile, and not the fake one she used on TV—her eyes crinkling at the corners. Damn she was pretty.
“I thought you were a news reporter.”
“My big dream was always investigative journalism.” She sipped her drink, leaving a pink lipstick print on the glass. Ella had nice lips, full and lush. Tank imagined Ella in her tight suit on her knees, looking up at him with those big, blue eyes, those beautiful lips wrapped around his cock. His blood rushed to his groin, and he tried to pay attention to her words and not the images in his head of him with this classy chick, showing her a bit of rough and making her scream with pleasure.
“Unfortunately, the powers that be needed a new face for the evening news, and they liked mine,” she continued.
“You’re good.” Tank didn’t usually throw out compliments, but Ella was good. Damned good. And he would know since he had watched her on the news every night for a couple of weeks after T-Rex’s big strikeout. Who knew she’d turn out to be so nice and easy to talk to, or that she’d even want to share some of her personal life with a guy like him? Even if they didn’t wind up in bed together, he was just happy to share his grief with someone who understood exactly how he felt, and the fact that she was attractive made it that much more enjoyable.
“Thanks.” Her face lit up with her smile. “I actually think you mean that instead of just saying it to get into my pants.”
“I do mean it.” His body warmed with the knowledge he had pleased her. “And I wouldn’t try to get into your pants ‘cause you’re wearing a skirt.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling, like he’d said the funniest damn thing in the world, and Tank felt the first stirring of something akin to pleasure, a feeling he hadn’t had since T-Rex disappeared.
“I have ambitions beyond the local Conundrum news.” She drummed her thumb on the counter. “Getting the scoop on one of the country’s biggest outlaw MCs would open those doors. What if I help you find your friend? I meet a lot of people doing what I do. I’ve made a lot of contacts…”
Aha. So this was what she wanted. He felt a stab of pride at the thought he’d so quickly discovered what Banks had been dying to know, and he imagined Banks’s face when he told him Ella Masters was after a story about the Sinners. But his imaginary pride quickly faded when he thought about telling Jagger and the executive board. No doubt they would do something to ensure that kind of story never made the news, and after hearing about Ella’s loss, he didn’t want her to get hurt.
“Sorry, love. Club business stays in the club. If Jagger ever caught me sharing club information, friend or not, he’d have my head.”
Her beautiful lips turned down at the corners, and she stroked her finger over his knuckles. Damn she had soft hands, and her nails were painted the same hot sunglow red as T-Rex’s bike.
“Not even something small?”
“I’m not the talker T-Rex was … is,” he said, his brain fuzzed by the gentle stroke of her hand and the knowledge that Ella Masters was touching him. “Never had his ability to charm women into my bed.”
“His charm didn’t work with me.” She finished her drink, licked her lips. Tank’s gaze followed her little pink tongue, imagining the things her tongue could do in the same place he wanted her lips to be.
“He wasn’t my type.” Her words came out in a soft murmur that he could feel in his cock.
“What is your type?” T-Rex was every woman’s type so he couldn’t figure out what kind of dude Ella would want.
She leaned closer, and he inhaled her perfume, sharp, bold, intoxicating. “I like the strong, silent type. The ones who sit back and watch. The ones who talk little and feel deep. The ones who see things other people don’t see, who know when their friend is alive even when no one believes them.”