Chapter 4 Rocco
Rocco
The humidity of the day is gone and the cool desert night is biting at my face as I tear down the highway, the rumble of my bike the only thing keeping me grounded.
The Fury emblem on the tank glints under the moonlight, a reminder of why I’m here.
But all I can think about is Tank—those hard eyes, that growl of a voice, the way he stepped in front of me when that Reaper’s fist came flying.
My shoulder still throbs where the punch grazed me, but it’s nothing compared to the heat in my chest, the spark that lit up when Tank called me “kid” and looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive.
I twist the throttle, pushing the bike faster, trying to outrun the mess in my head.
The bar fight was chaos—glass shattering, blood spraying, Tank throwing punches like a goddamn machine.
But what sticks with me isn’t the fight.
It’s him.
The way he moved, all power and control, protecting me like it was instinct. And me, holding my own, not backing down, earning that grudging respect in his eyes.
Fuck, I liked it too much.
I’m supposed to hate him, to be plotting his death.
But all I can picture is that moment outside the bar. It wasn’t just suspicion on Tank’s part, it was desire.
I pull off the road, my tires kicking up dust as I stop at the edge of town.
The desert stretches out, black and endless, the stars sharp overhead. I yank off my helmet, my breath coming fast, and run a hand through my hair.
What the hell am I doing?
My father’s voice is in my head, like always... Tank took everything, Rocco. You’re gonna make him pay.
But what would my father say if he knew what I’m feeling?
If he knew his son’s getting hard thinking about the man who crippled him?
I’d be a traitor, a failure. And I know that my father would turn on me, send men after me… it’s how he’s always lived, it’s what he’s always believed in. Loyalty or death.
The thought twists like a knife in my gut, but it doesn’t stop the heat pooling low in my belly when I think of Tank’s hands, his voice, the way he fills up a room.
I’m young enough to be reckless, old enough to know better.
I’ve always had a thing for guys like Tank—older, commanding, the kind who take charge and don’t apologize.
Tank’s the real deal, a Daddy in leather who could break me in half and make me beg for it. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I hate myself for it. I’m here to kill him, not fuck him.
But the line’s blurring, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I kick the bike back into gear and head toward the Wolf Rider clubhouse. It’s a risk, showing up there after the knife I left on their doorstep, but Tank’s words are burning a hole in me. But it’s not just Tank’s words, it’s mine…
I’ll find you.
I said it, and now I’m making good on it.
I need to get close, to keep my plan on track, but part of me just wants to see Tank again, to push his buttons and see how far I can take this before it blows up in my face.
The clubhouse looms ahead, a concrete bunker behind a chain-link fence.
The lot’s busy, but I spot Tank’s Harley parked near the door, black and chrome, mean as hell. My pulse kicks up. He’s here. I park across the street, next to the spot where I left that Fury bike last night.
It’s gone now, probably towed or trashed, but the knife’s done its job.
The Wolf Riders are rattled. I can feel it.
I’m about to cross the street when the clubhouse door swings open, and there he is…
Tank.
He steps out, lighting a cigarette, the flame catching the hard lines of his face. He’s all muscle, broad shoulders stretching his kutte, his dark hair graying at the temples.
Those eyes, though—they hit me like a punch, sharp and unyielding, even from this distance. He doesn’t see me yet, but I can’t move, caught like a deer in headlights.
I take a breath and step into the streetlight’s glow, letting my boots crunch loud enough to get his attention. His head snaps up, cigarette pausing halfway to his mouth.
“Well, fuck,” Tank says, his voice low and rough. “You really did mean it when you said you’d find me.”
I smirk, leaning against my bike, playing it cool even though my heart’s hammering. “Told you, big guy. I’m full of surprises.”
Tank takes a drag, exhaling slow, his eyes raking over me.
It’s like he’s peeling me apart, layer by layer, and I feel naked under that stare.
“What do you want, Rocco?” Tank asks, stepping closer. “You show up with a Fury bike, stir shit up in my bar, and now you’re here. Start talking.”
I shrug, my hands in my pockets, the knife’s weight gone but its ghost still heavy.
“Thought we could clear the air,” I say. “That fight at the bar wasn’t my fault, but I don’t want bad blood with the Wolves. Especially not with you.”
He snorts, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You got a mouth on you, kid. Dangerous thing in a place like this.”
“Maybe I like danger,” I say, stepping closer, close enough to smell the smoke and leather on him. “You gonna give me a hard time, or you gonna give me a ride? Show me what the Wolf Riders are about.”
I watch as Tank’s jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he’s gonna tell me to fuck off. But then he stubs out his cigarette and jerks his chin toward his bike.
“Get on,” Tank snarls. “But don’t think this means I trust you.”
I grin, my blood singing. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I follow him to his Harley, my boots crunching on the gravel. He swings on, and I climb behind him, my thighs brushing his hips as I settle in.
The contact sends a jolt through me, and I have to grip the seat to keep from pressing closer. The engine roars, vibrating through my bones, and we peel out of the lot, the desert swallowing us whole.
We ride for what feels like forever, the wind tearing at my jacket, the stars blurring above.
Tank doesn’t talk, just drives, his back a solid wall in front of me.
I can feel the heat of him, the strength, and it’s doing things to me I can’t ignore.
I want to push him, to see how far I can take this.
My plan’s working—I’m getting close—but it’s not just about the plan anymore. It’s about him.
Tank pulls off at an overlook, the desert sprawling out below, the town a faint glow in the distance. He cuts the engine, and the silence is deafening. I slide off the bike, my legs shaky, and lean against it, watching him. He stays seated, one hand on the handlebars, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
“You gonna tell me what’s really going on?” Tank asks, his voice low, dangerous. “That Fury bike, the way you’re sniffing around—you’re not just some drifter.”
I laugh, running a hand through my hair.
“You don’t trust easy, do you?” I laugh, hiding my nerves.
“Not when someone’s waving a dead gang’s emblem in my face,” Tank says, turning to look at me. His eyes are hard, but there’s something else there—curiosity, maybe, or something hotter. “You know more than you’re saying.”
“Maybe I do,” I say, stepping closer, my voice dropping. “Maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. Word is you’re the glue holding the Wolf Riders together. Tough, mean, the guy who breaks bones and doesn’t blink. But I saw you at the bar. You didn’t have to step in for me, but you did. Why?”
Tank grunts, looking away, but I don’t miss the way his hands tighten on the handlebars.
“Don’t read too much into it, kid,” Tank says, a look of animal instinct in his eyes. “I protect what’s mine.”
“Yours, huh?” I say, my tone teasing, pushing him. “I’m not a Wolf, Tank. Yet. You claiming me already?”
His head snaps back, and the look he gives me could burn through steel.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Keep pushing, and you’ll find out how mean I can be.”
I smirk, leaning in, close enough that I can feel the heat off him.
“Maybe I want to find out. Maybe I like mean.”
Tank stares at me, his jaw working, and for a second, I think he’s gonna grab me, shake me, or worse. But there’s a flicker in his eyes—desire, raw and unguarded—and it hits me like a punch.
Tank’s feeling this too, this pull between us, and it’s fucking with both our heads.
I’m supposed to be here to kill him, but all I can think about is how it’d feel to have those hands on me, to hear that voice telling me what to do.
“Careful, Rocco,” Tank says, standing now, towering over me. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Oh, I think I do,” I say, my heart pounding. “You’re the big bad enforcer, right? Keep the club in line, protect your boys. I bet you’re real good at taking care of people. Question is, who takes care of you?”
He steps closer, crowding my space, and I don’t back down.
The air’s thick with tension, the kind that could spark into something explosive.
I’m pushing too hard, I know it, but I can’t stop.
My plan’s working—I’m under his skin—but it’s not just a plan anymore. I want him, and it’s tearing me apart.
“You’re trouble,” Tank mutters, his voice rough, but he doesn’t move away. “And I don’t trust trouble.”
“Then why’d you give me a ride?” I ask, tilting my head, my smirk daring him to answer.
Tank doesn’t. Instead, he just stares, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to figure me out. I can feel the weight of his role in the MC, the way he carries it like a shield. He’s not just muscle—he’s the guy who keeps the Wolves together, who takes the hits so the others don’t have to.
And I can see it, that protective streak, the one that made him step in front of me at the bar. It’s why I’m here, why I’m risking everything.
But it’s also why I’m so fucked, because I don’t just want to use him.
I want to know him.
The desert’s quiet around us, the overlook a world away from everything. I’m playing with fire, and I know it. My father is waiting for me to finish this, to drive that knife into Tank’s heart.
But right now, standing here with him, I don’t know if I can.
All I know is I want to keep pushing, to see how far this goes before it breaks…
“I’ve been a bad boy,” I say, my voice quivering as I realize just how hungry Tank is for me. “I stole two bikes. Didn’t give a fuck who owned them. I would have stolen a Wolf Rider bike too…”
Tank’s eyes light up, and I see him look me up and down.
“In fact… I’m going to steal a Wolf bike tomorrow,” I declare. “And you won’t do shit about it!”
My heart’s racing, my cock is stiff, and my eyes are wide with a wild, out of control edge as I realize I’m pushing way harder than I should be.
“And that’s precisely why this just has to happen,” Tank roars, his huge arms suddenly all over me, spinning me around and pressing me up against a grand old tree.
“You’ve pushed my buttons from the jump.
Now it’s time for me to whoop this ass into shape so you can learn your very first lesson about what it means to be a Wolf. ”
I gasp as Tank unbuckles my jeans, whips them down to my ankles and takes my briefs with them too…
“Safeword, now,” Tank commands, leaving no room for hesitation on my part.
“Dagger,” I say, my cheeks flushing bright red as I look down and see my erect cock springing to attention.
“Very interesting,” Tank says, a note of devil in his voice. “We can talk about your choice of safeword later. For now, though… hold on tight.”
And with that, Tank begins by bringing down an almighty spank onto my left cheek and swiftly follows it up with one to my right.
I let out a yelp of pain, but there’s something about the way that the spanks echo in the vast space around us that makes me wants more. And more. And then some more again…
“Fuck. That hurts. That… yowwwwww!” I bawl. “Another, Daddy. Another.”
“You’ll take however many I say,” Tank bellows, landing three spanks in succession onto my left cheek. “I’m in charge. I’m calling this. You’ll be an obedient young man and take whatever medicine Daddy gives you!”
I bite my lip and stick my ass out even further, my hands wrapping around the tree and my cock still hard, despite the pain I’m in.
“Y-y-y-y-y-yes, Daddy,” I moan.
And Tank rounds the spanking off with a further six triple-spanks on each cheek. I almost collapse as the final spank lands, but Tank reaches in and holds me up before bringing me in close.
“I’m here for you,” Tank says, his voice suddenly warmer as I bury my face into his broad chest. “Whatever it is that’s going on with you, I’m there for it.
I’ll protect you. I’ll make you safe. And I’ll get you back to the clubhouse and get some ice cold cans of beer on those rosy cheeks too, you’ll see. ”
I nod and shut my eyes.
My ass is on fire, but in Tank’s embrace I feel safer than I have in a very long time.
But I know that the truth of the matter is very different. If Tank knew why I was getting close to him, I’d be dead meat. I guess I’ll have to play the messed up rebel just a little longer, and then I’ll do what my father sent me to do…