Chapter Sixteen
Tank
“I need you to pack a bag,” Spike says through the phone. “Then I need you and Skip to meet me, Foster, and Bones at Maverick’s place. We’re going to New York.”
Fuck.
I turn slightly, lowering my voice as I look toward the bedroom door. It’s cracked open just enough for me to hear her breathing. Still heavy. Still congested.
“Abigail’s really sick,” I remind him.
“I know, brother,” Spike sighs. “And I’m sorry. But this can’t wait. Patch and Max will stay behind to keep everyone safe. Crusher is on his way back now and will arrive in roughly an hour. So, that’s already three trusted brothers to keep everyone safe.”
I drag a hand down my face.
New York means escalation. New York means this supplier mess just grew teeth.
It also means leaving her.
“She’s running a fever,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
There’s a pause on the other end.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary,” Spike says quietly. “Stefano got word. Someone’s moving fast. We either show up now or we look weak.”
Weak isn’t an option. Not with the shady ass people we deal with.
Not when someone’s trying to fracture alliances and start a war.
Still…
“She’s not sleeping good,” I mutter. “Cough’s rough.”
“Patch will stay with her,” Spike says. “He’s already on his way. If she wakes up, she won’t be alone. If her fever spikes, Patch will know exactly what to do. You know he won’t let anything happen to her.”
I do know.
Doesn’t mean I like it.
I step into the bedroom doorway and lean against the frame. She’s bundled in blankets, hair fanned across the pillow, cheeks flushed from fever.
Even sick, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’ve got twenty minutes,” Spike says. “Maverick’s jet leaves in an hour.”
Twenty minutes.
“To New York,” I mutter.
“To New York,” he confirms. “Pack heavy.”
The line clicks dead.
I stand there for a second, phone still in my hand, listening to her breathe.
This is the life.
Love something fiercely…Then walk away from it to protect it.
I move to the bed and sit on the edge carefully so I don’t wake her with a sudden jolt.
Her hand shifts closer to mine like she’s searching even in sleep, so I slip my fingers into hers.
She hums softly without opening her eyes.
“Tank?” she whispers, voice wrecked from coughing.
“Yeah, baby.”
“You still here?”
“Of course.” I swallow. “But I do have to run out for a bit. Club business.”
Her brow furrows slightly even in that fever-hazed half-sleep.
“New York?” she murmurs.
I freeze.
“You heard that?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles. “That’s why I thought you were already gone.”
I brush my thumb across her knuckles, grounding myself.
“I won’t be gone long,” I tell her.
Her eyes flutter open just enough to look at me.
“Be careful,” she whispers.
Not don’t go.
Not stay.
Be careful.
She trusts me.
And that’s heavier than any bag I’ll pack tonight.
“I will,” I promise. “Drink the broth,” I murmur.
Her mouth twitches faintly.
“Bossy,” she whispers.
“Worried,” I correct softly.
She starts to drift again, exhaustion pulling her under.
“Tank,” she says suddenly, just when I think she’s fully asleep. “Come back to me.”
My chest tightens.
I lean down and kiss her sweaty forehead, not caring about the heat, the fever, any of it.
“Nothing will ever keep me from coming home to you, baby,” I say against her clammy skin. “I’ve got a lifetime of groveling to make up for. Now sleep and get better. Because when I get back, we’re going on a date.”
Her lips curve faintly.
“That sounds perfect,” she whispers.
I don’t know if she’s fully aware of this conversation or if she thinks she’s dreaming.
Doesn’t matter.
Either way, this woman is my forever.
I stay another thirty seconds after she falls asleep.
Thirty seconds of memorizing the rise and fall of her chest.
Thirty seconds of reminding myself exactly what I’m fighting for.
Then I stand.
Patch gives me a nod from the hallway as I step out. “I’ll call if anything changes,” he says quietly.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
He just grunts.
I head for the bunker and start packing heavy.
Bag. Guns. Knives. Radios. Night vision goggles. Drones. Batteries. More guns. Ammo.
And my wallet…Can’t go to New York without grabbing a slice of pizza.
I zip the duffel closed and sling it over my shoulder.
New York won’t keep me longer than it has to.
Because I just got her back.
And I’m not going to let anything keep us apart for long.