He didn’t know if Jagger had seen the news, but no doubt he would get word about it soon. Ella had been up in Still Water, reporting that the police had found two Black Jacks down by the lake, the victims of what they believed to be a biker-related shooting. Ella had referred to “a source” who had suggested the murders had been carried out by members of a rival MC, the Sinner’s Tribe.
Ella tilted her head to the side, and the silken strands of her hair brushed over his hand. “Hello, James,” she said coolly. “Nice to see you again.”
Tank drew in a ragged breath, inhaling the rich, sultry scent of her perfume. All his blood rushed to his groin and he cursed inwardly. Son of a bitch. He was here to deal with this fucking mess, not fuck the woman who threatened to bring down his club.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You put my club at risk.” If she’d been a dude, he would have resorted to violence. Punches. Kicks. A few broken bones. Then he would have pulled out his weapon. But he couldn’t hit a woman. He saw no point in using his strength against someone weaker than him, despite the fact his dad had not hesitated to use his fists on Tank.
As if she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, Ella smiled. “I was helping you. I did a little digging, talked to a couple of my friends in the police department. It looks like the dead biker’s bike might have been the same bike you saw at the gas station. I checked the gas station video on your phone when you were sleeping and made a few notes. The bike you saw matches one of the bikes on the list forensics drew up from a partial track on the main road and was registered in the dead biker’s name. If the Jacks tortured your friend, it makes sense that he would go after them. He is a Sinner after all. So it was a win win for both of us. I got a story, and you got your man.”
“I told you no story. You’re gonna get me kicked out of own fucking club. Now sit the fuck down so I can think.” He paced her living room as she settled on her couch. How could he get out of this? If Jagger kicked him out of the club, he wouldn’t have any support if he went after T-Rex, and what would he do without his brothers? Where would he go? The club was his goddamned fucking life.
“James…”
“Don’t call me that,” he barked. “Name is Tank.” The name the club gave him when he’d earned the cut, not because he was built like one, which he was, but because he’d stolen a tank from an army base one night on a drunken dare from T-Rex just so they could take pictures of themselves in a tank. He’d taken a lot of heat from Jagger for his stupidity, but he wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything. He still had the selfie he took of him and T-Rex, leaning back on the tank, grins on their faces, beers raised in a “fuck you” salute.
A selfie she had probably seen when she went through his phone. What else had she seen and how the hell had she unlocked it?
“Okay … Tank.” She crossed one leg over the other and her gown slid up revealing the creamy expanse of her thigh. Fuck, she had nice legs. And nice tits. But then he knew that about her ’cause he’d watched her that night T-Rex warned him away. He probably knew more than that about her, but damned if he could remember their night together.
“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with your club.” She loosened her belt, letting the gown fall to the sides of her hips. Now he could see her cleavage, the soft skin of her stomach, and … Fuck. Her pussy was bare. Tank bit back a groan. Nothing he liked better than smooth, soft, bare pussy.
“I didn’t disclose my source, and really, you didn’t give me the information. I deduced it. And I might be wrong. Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad, or a mafia hit, or even another club. If the Sinners weren’t involved then you have nothing to worry about.” She trailed her hand down her body, between her breasts, parting the white silk until she got to the juncture of her thighs. Her hand rested on her mound, her fingers dangling over what he most wanted to see, hiding it from his now throbbing cock.
Christ. She was like one of those mythical Sirens who lured sailors to their deaths. He couldn’t tell whether the pounding in his veins was fury or lust. No wonder T-Rex had warned him about her. And Banks. He had to get out, and yet he couldn’t look away. Something niggled at the back of his mind. A question. There was a question he wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t remember what it was.
As if she could read his thoughts, she drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising, the silk slipping until he could just see the blush of a nipple. “I’m so sorry, Tank. Let me make it up to you.”