Chapter Nine
Tank
The Iron Knuckles is officially up and running.
“He would’ve been proud of all of you,” Eli says as we stand back and take in the new sign.
“He would’ve been proud of you, too, baby,” Skip tells him quietly.
Silence settles over us as we each take a moment to remember our fallen brother. Knuckles didn’t just die too fucking young…he died protecting one of our own.
“He would’ve insisted on this name if he were still here,” Skip adds with a sad laugh. “The man was so damn excited to build bikes in this place.”
“He knew he was dying before we even bought it,” Spike says. “But yeah… he was already planning how to make it his.”
“So we do it for him,” Eli says, his voice cracking.
We’ll never truly understand the bond Knuckles and Eli forged in those final hours together. Knuckles died saving Eli…fighting men who wanted him dead while cancer was already doing its best to finish the job.
“We make this place his,” Eli continues. “We can’t bring him back, but we can make sure his name lives on. Knuckles will never be forgotten. Everyone will know the kind of man he was. The kind of hero.”
Skip pulls Eli into his arms, holding him tight. The rest of us nod, agreement unspoken but absolute.
“Alright, calm down, pretty boy,” Skip says gruffly. “I don’t want you fainting again…at least not until I have you in our bed later tonight.”
Laughter breaks the heaviness, just enough.
Shaking my head, I head into the garage.
Those two are hopelessly in love.
Abigail’s beautiful face flashes through my mind, uninvited and relentless.
And just like that, the ache settles back into my chest…steady, familiar, and entirely my own fault.
***ABBY***
“I’ve got your seats reserved in the VIP section,” Cody announces. “And just remember…if I don’t hear you bitches cheering during curtain call, you’re all fired as my BFFs.”
“What’s going on here?” Tank asks as he steps out of the clubhouse. “Why are you all dressed up like you’re going to meet the queen?”
“We’re heading to Cody’s performance,” Riley explains.
“Performance?” Tank echoes. “Are you a musician?”
“Nope,” Cody winks. “I’m a motherfucking ballerina. Well, the male term is danseur, but no one would know that.”
Tank blinks. “Oh.”
He takes a moment to let that soak in.
“Impressive.”
“I know I am,” Cody grins. “Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll meet you there.”
“Good luck!” someone calls out.
Cody whips around and glares.
“Never wish a performer good luck,” I laugh, remembering my own very recent lesson. “Break a leg, Cody. You’re gonna kill it.”
“Obviously,” he says, already backing toward his car. “And don’t clap like amateurs…I want noise.”
He jumps in, peels out of the gate, and disappears down the road.
“Filthy mouth for a ballet dancer,” Skip chuckles. “Alright, ladies…”
“Hey,” Eli clears his throat.
“And sexy-ass men who can’t stop fainting at the sight of me,” Skip finishes smoothly, earning a glare and a smile. “Pile into the damn van. Let’s get cultured.”
“Cody reserved an entire VIP section,” Riley tells the group of men trailing behind us. “He may have decided not to be a brother, but he’s still our friend.”
“Which means he’s still a Shadow,” Sunny adds.
“So fix your faces and dress to impress,” Skip says, adjusting his bow tie. “Show starts in an hour.”
“I’m not watching ballet,” Bones mutters.
I turn to Sunny, keeping my face perfectly neutral. “You sure do look pretty, Sunny.”
“Yep,” Riley smiles. “With your hair down like that, you look like an actual ray of sunshine.”
Sunny beams, doing a little spin, knowing exactly what we’re doing.
“I’m sure plenty of men will take notice of a beautiful woman who arrived at the ballet without a man on her arm,” Skip adds casually.
Glaring daggers at Skip, Bones turns and mutters all the way back toward his house.
“Sunny, don’t fucking leave without me,” he shouts over his shoulder, causing us all to laugh.
“It’s weird, you know,” Lila says.
“What’s weird?” I ask, watching Skip grumble to himself as he lifts the seats in the back of the van.
“We have another beautiful woman attending tonight,” she says lightly, “arriving without a man on her arm.”
It’s my turn to shoot daggers.
I catch my friends’ grins…and my stupid brother’s…just as Tank’s presence settles at my back. Close. Warm. Unavoidable.
“It would be my honor,” Tank says quietly, his voice low by my ear, “if you’d allow me to escort you to the ballet.”
Goosebumps race across my skin, and it takes everything in me not to react to his nearness.
I turn and look up at him, forcing a smile.
“It’s not necessary,” I say calmly. “I know ballet isn’t really your thing.”
“Just as friends,” Tank says quietly. “Nothing more, Abigail.”
It feels like the entire compound holds its breath while I work through that.
Should I let him escort me? Wouldn’t that technically be a date?
My heart races at the thought alone. I’ve wanted this for so long.
Then the memories surface.
Rejection after rejection after rejection.
What if, after this not-a-date friend date, he tries to kiss me? Would I stop him? Would I even want to?
Is it too soon?
I can’t let myself fall back into obsession. If I let him in…even a little…and he changes his mind again, it would destroy me.
And yet… who am I kidding?
I’ll probably always love the big, stupid idiot.
But sometimes love isn’t enough.
He says he loves me, but words are easy. Actions aren’t. And his actions for years were the exact opposite of love.
So no.
I won’t let him escort me. He can tag along. He can sit with the men. But I won’t walk in with my arm tucked into his elbow.
Squaring my shoulders, I open my mouth to tell him exactly that.
“Yes.”
Wait… What?
Who the heck is controlling my mouth?
“Thank you, babygirl,” Tank says, smiling like I just handed him the moon. “I won’t be but a minute to get ready.”
I stare after him, stunned.
“I’m going to ask Mike if he can watch Asher,” Spike says. “Since he’s already keeping an eye on Bree and Micah. I’ll be back in a few.”
“How the hell are we fitting everyone into this damn van?” Skip mutters. “You ladies are going to have to sit on laps.”
Absolutely not.
Nope.
That is where I draw the line.
There is no universe in which I’m sitting on Tank’s lap.
Not tonight. Not ever.
“Nonsense,” Maverick says smoothly. “I’ve already secured our ride.”
I glance toward the gate and nearly trip over my own feet when I see him standing there beside a limo.
A limo.
“Hell yeah,” Skip shouts. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Can I drive?”
“My driver will drive,” Maverick says dryly. “That is what I pay him for, after all.”
“You have a driver?” I ask, not sure why this surprises me anymore, considering everything we’ve learned about him lately.
“I can’t very well ride my bike when I’m doing… Don stuff,” he smirks.
“It’s not that kind of ballet, Maverick,” Riley says. “We don’t need to arrive in a limo.”
“Considering how you ladies are dressed to kill,” Maverick replies, eyes sweeping over the group, “it would be a shame not to arrive properly.”
Sunny laughs. “He’s not wrong.”
“And,” Maverick adds casually, as Mike opens the gate. “Cody reserved the VIP section. A limo simply feels… respectful.”
Skip claps his hands together. “Say less. I’m in.”
“How did you know about tonight?” Riley asks as we make our way toward Maverick. “You look very dashing, by the way.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he says with a slight bow. “Cody mentioned it last week. I’ve attended many ballet performances over the years. I’ve seen him dance more times than he knows.”
“You’re not at all like a normal man, are you?” Lila asks, eyes narrowed with curiosity.
“No, my dear,” Maverick replies smoothly. “I’m far more dangerous.”
“Speaking of dangerous,” Eli says quietly, his gaze shifting behind us.
Almost on cue, four doors open down the row of houses.
Spike steps out first, adjusting the cuffs of a tailored black suit like he was born wearing one. His tie hangs loose around his neck, sleeves crisp, posture commanding. My brother is very handsome.
Max seems happy as he walks with his head held high, looking very comfortable in his navy blue suit and tie.
Bones follows, his movements sharp, jaw tight as he shoots Maverick a glare. He’s dressed similarly…dark suit, black shirt…but there’s nothing refined about him. He looks like violence wrapped in expensive fabric, like he might snap at any second and enjoy it.
And then Tank.
No jacket. No tie. Just black dress pants sitting low on his hips and a white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to be criminal. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, exposing thick forearms dusted with dark hair, just moments from busting through the fabric.
He looks lethal.
I swallow hard, forcing my eyes to stay above his shoulders like a good, well-behaved woman.
It doesn’t help.
Because I’ve seen him shirtless a hundred times. I’ve seen him bleeding, sweaty, furious, half-dead. I’ve seen him brutal, broken, and terrifying.
But this?
This version of Tank…the one dressed like he belongs somewhere elegant instead of a fight ring…does something to me.
It reminds me that he’s not just muscle and rage. He’s restraint. Control. A man who chooses not to destroy everything he touches.
And that’s worse.
Because it makes me remember all the nights I imagined this exact moment. Walking into something beautiful with him at my side. Being chosen openly. Claimed without fear.
I wanted him to want me when it was easy. When nothing was broken. When loving me didn’t feel like penance.
Now he looks at me like I’m already his, and I don’t know what to do with that.
Because wanting Tank has never been my problem.
Trusting that he won’t leave me standing alone again?
That’s the part I can’t seem to master.
Tank’s eyes meet mine, just for a second.
He doesn’t smile.
He just looks… steady.
Like he’s bracing himself.
Like he knows tonight matters more than he’s letting on.
And suddenly, I’m terrified.
Not of giving in…that’s inevitable at some point…but of how badly I want to.
If I hand myself over completely to this man and he changes his mind, it won’t just hurt.
It will ruin me.
“Pretty boy,” Skip drawls, yanking me out of my spiral. “I need you to stop eye-fucking my brothers and turn those big orbs over here.”
I blink, startled, then glance at Eli and promptly lose it.
Maverick, Spike, Max, Bones, and Tank are standing together like some terrifying, overdressed version of bikers. Maverick, Max, and Spike are talking quietly about something, Bones looks like he’d rather fistfight a lion than attend a ballet, and Tank…Tank is facing me, smiling.
Eli, meanwhile, is frozen in place, mouth hanging open, dramatically fanning himself like he’s moments away from catching fire. When he makes no move to do as his man demanded, Skip steps in front of him, blocking the view.
“See something you like, baby?” Skip asks, voice low and territorial.
Eli grins and very deliberately wipes an imaginary line of drool from the corner of his mouth.
Skip actually growls.
I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing too loudly, but when I risk another glance at Tank, my amusement fades just a little.
He’s still watching me.
Not possessive…Not smug.
Just… patient.
“You look handsome,” I say, proud of myself for not admitting that I really think he looks so freaking sexy. “Have you ever been to a ballet?”
“Can’t say I have,” he replies smoothly. “But with a beautiful woman to escort, I don’t think I’ll hate it.”
“Alright, crew,” Maverick says, clapping his hands once. “Let’s move. We don’t want to be late.”
“And where’s your date, Maverick?” Sunny asks, brows lifting.
Maverick smiles slowly.
“I don’t arrive with dates,” he says calmly. “I arrive with intentions.”
Sunny blinks. “Oh?”
“I was invited,” he continues, straightening his cuffs. “I show respect. If someone chooses to walk beside me, I’m honored. If not, I walk alone and enjoy the evening just the same.”
Then, softer… almost amused.
“Besides,” he adds, “Now that the secret is out of the bag and people know I’m the Italian Don, it would take one strong and brave person to give me a chance.”
“Hopefully that will happen soon so you can get your very own happily ever after,” Sunny says.
“No rush,” Maverick smiles, nodding to his driver as he opens the door for us. “The right person never needs to be hurried. They’ll find their way to me when they’re ready.”
The silence that follows is thick.
“Whoa,” Sunny exhales.
Maverick inclines his head in a polite, old-world gesture.
“Shall we?”
I walk beside Sunny, Lila, and Riley as we follow Maverick toward the limo.
“Think you all need to keep an eye on him,” Skip calls from behind us. “I’m pretty sure your women just fell in love with our Outlaw.”
“Your man is still drooling,” Tank mutters, making Eli laugh outright.
“I’m not worried,” Skip says confidently. “He doesn’t carry the right parts for the Outlaw.”
Maverick glances over his shoulder, lips curving into a very sinful grin.
“Wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Oh, hell no,” Skip snaps. “Pretty boy, get your ass back here and hold my hand.”