Chapter 16 She Did What? #3
She unlocked the cell, Sydney followed her into the main room. It was one-thirty in the morning and the precinct was busier than expected. She swept the room. Standing at the check-out counter looking like he’d walked straight off the pages of a fashion magazine stood her man.
Tank was talking with the clerk… or maybe she was talking to him.
Sydney’s heart skipped a beat, the breath got sucked from her lungs.
With every step, her heart thumped faster while heat spread through her like wildfire.
There stood six-foot three of raw granite.
When he looked her way, she couldn’t miss the ticking in his jaw.
He narrowed his eyes, and he crossed his arms. More angry he could not have looked.
His absolute frustration turned her on in a way that terrified her. She wanted him to unleash all that energy on her.
I can handle him.
All of him.
She stopped inches away, peered up. A shadow darkened his eyes.
“Thank you,” was all she said.
There were no smiles, no hugs. She didn’t throw herself on him. Just the opposite. She bathed in the deep freeze that was Tank Santini. His icy greeting only ratcheted up the heat burning through her. She could thaw him, no problem, and she would enjoy every minute of it.
“The charges were dropped,” he said.
“Great.”
More seething glaring from Tank.
“I need my things.” She glanced from him to the desk clerk.
The doe-eyed woman was locked on Tank. “Mr. Santini, it was soooo good chatting with you.”
“Where do we go next?” he asked.
She’d never seen this side of him. He was an intimidating man on his best day. Now, he looked like a monster—the one you never want to find under your bed in the middle of the night.
They walked in an icy silence. She collected her handbag, checked that everything was there. When they set her weapons on the counter, relief flooded her. She took the SIG, holstered it. Tank took the Walther.
“Let’s go.” The chill in his voice sent a thrill racing through her.
She loved a challenge.
They left the police station, the frosty evening nothing compared to his cold reception.
With a swagger than kept her glued to his hard-muscled backside, he strode down the sidewalk.
Rather than run to catch up, she kept her stride exactly as it was.
She had no issue with his anger. She got it.
She’d fucked up. Big time. But she wasn’t groveling.
There was no scenario on planet earth where Sydney Austin would grovel to anyone.
For anything.
At any time.
Ever.
And that included the man who was shooting daggers at her with his eyes.
He stopped next to a black Harley Davidson Heritage Classic motorcycle and her brain skidded to an abrupt stop. He unlocked the saddlebag, set her Walther inside. “Give me your weapon.”
“Where’s Caroline?” she asked.
“At home.”
“I’m not getting on that,” she said, her tone filled with defiance.
“I need your weapon.”
On a grunt, she handed it over. He set it in the compartment. After locking it, he buttoned her winter jacket. Though he wouldn’t look at her, she loved how he was taking care of her. When he finished, he pulled up her collar, then peered into her eyes.
A jolt of need hit her like lightning. Her breath hitched, her insides roared to life. The fury thundering off him was frightening. Only she wasn’t scared. It fueled her, made her feel like she could do anything, conquer any goal, overcome any fear. She felt invincible simply by being around him.
His power was that strong.
He fitted on his helmet, held out a second, and she pulled it on.
Her first motorcycle ride. Secretly, she was thrilled out of her mind to be riding with him. Five minutes ago, she didn’t know he owned a bike. She was seconds from climbing on and going for the ride of her life.
With gentle hands, he tightened her strap. “Hold onto me. Do not let go. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lean into the turns.”
“Okay.”
He straddled the bike.
Before getting on, she checked him out. And her heart swelled in her chest. Without question, Tank was the sexiest badass she had ever known. More than her next breath, she wanted to kiss him. Press her mouth to his and let passion kick into high gear.
Instead, she mounted the bike, snaked her arms around his massive torso, and inhaled. He smelled good. Leather and musk… and Tank. Sydney would never have gotten on a motorcycle with anyone but him. His confidence was palpable. It seeped into her soul, and she breathed deep.
He started the bike, looked around, and backed out of the spot. The roads weren’t busy, but Sydney knew that most everyone out there at three in the morning would be drunk.
So that made it that much more dangerous… for them.
As he dropped into first gear, he revved the engine, eased out the clutch, and drove onto the street. She was shocked by the rate of acceleration as he shifted their way to cruising speed. The cold air whipped around her, but his massive body blocked her from getting the brunt of the chill.
They flew down the road. She loved the freedom, the roar of the engine vibrating through her, the night sky looming large over her. She tightened her grip around his hard torso while he controlled the machine with exact precision.
And just like that, she fell even harder in love than she believed possible.
She’d been waiting for this side of him.
The edgy, angry man who controlled his emotions like a boss.
The man of many words, the one who held the Santini family together.
The brother who was there for the others was a beast in his own right.
He slowed for a light, stopped at the red. A carload of guys pulled up beside them.
“Heyo, pretty boy,” said the passenger. “You wanna race for the chick? She looks like a good time.”
Tank didn’t look over, didn’t acknowledge they even existed. The light changed green and he waited while the idiots took off like a rocket, fully expecting him to race away. He rode through the intersection as the guys hit the brakes up ahead.
“Hold on,” he called out, the grit in his voice ripping through her.
She tightened her grip, peered around him as he opened the throttle and flew past them.
“Here they come,” he said.
Five guys looking for trouble.
They were still following when he turned into the Great Falls neighborhood that led to the Black Site. When Tank rode onto the dirt road beside the No Trespassing sign he stopped, put both feet on the ground.
“Get off,” he said.
She dismounted.
He dropped the kickstand, unlocked the saddlebag, handed her the SIG, pulled the Walther for himself. “Stand your ground,” he said. “If they see the Black Site, it’s all over.”
She couldn’t believe her ears.
Is he going to shoot these men?
The carload of thugs pulled up. All four windows lowered.
“Hey, darlin’, you need to leave Mr. Pretty Boy for five real men,” said the instigator.
In tandem, she and Tank racked their weapons, aimed them at the men.
“Hit the road,” Tank bit out.
Gone was the light-hearted man she’d become so accustomed to hearing. He was all alpha, all business, and not to be fucked with.
“Jesus,” said the driver. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Let’s go,” said one of the men in the back seat. “I’m out on parole four days. I don’t need this shit.”
“I’m not leaving without the chick,” said the troublemaker. “I’m gonna fuck her. We can take turns, then toss her when we’re finished.”
Sydney snapped. With her gun pointed at his head, she strode toward the car. “We’re gonna pump you full of lead.”
“Get. Fucking. Lost,” Tank growled.
“I’ll take the front seat, you take the back,” she said.
“You gonna let her boss you around like that, asshole?” asked the leader.
“Three,” Tank said.
“Two,” Sydney said.
They moved their fingers to the trigger.
“We’re going!” The driver screamed before he backed up. Once he hit the paved street, he spun the car around and floored it.
Tank pulled his phone from his pocket, made a call.
“Hey,” Grey answered. “Where’s Sydney?”
“I got her,” Tank said. “Five thugs followed us to the dirt road. One threatened to rape Sydney. Sydney and I pulled our weapons. They bolted. Have them picked up.” He rattled off the plate number.
“I’m on it. Are you okay?”
“Never fuckin’ better.” Tank hung up, slid his gaze to hers.
The fire in his eyes burned like a million suns. He put her Walther in the saddlebag. She set her SIG next to his, closed the bag, and waited for him to mount the bike.
After he did, he said, “Get on.” The bite in his tone made her quiver with desire.
She climbed on, snaked her arms around him, He motored slowly through the wooded area. When the trees cleared, the Black Site loomed ahead. Despite its foreboding, stark exterior, the structure was a most-welcome sight.
He rode around back, tapped an app on his phone, and entered a long code. Seconds later, the hangar door rose. Once inside, he cut the engine, then tapped his phone again. As the door closed, she got off the bike and removed her helmet.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I fucked up.”
Still no smile after he removed his helmet. “What are we going to do about that, Sydney?”
She stepped close enough to feel his warm breath on her cheeks. The air sizzled with desire, the need to fuck him, to ride him hard overtook her. The fantasy she’d ignored for years erupted from the darkest part of her.
It’s time.
He’s the one.
Tell him.
“I was a bad girl,” she replied. “You should punish me.”
His growl ripped through her. Eyes as dark as midnight drilled into her. She breathed him in, filling her lungs with the sweet, sweet essence of Tank.
“How?” he rasped.
“Spank me,” she said without hesitation. “I want you to spank me, Tank.”