Chapter 4
Tank
The club was bumpin’, leather, whiskey, and the faint tang of burnt rubber all around me like a warm fuzzy blanket. The truce between the Hell on Heelz and the Seville Slayers was still fresh as a newborn baby, fragile as glass, and crying out constantly for attention.
Tonight’s gathering was the first real test of our uneasy peace. Slayers were at the Roost, our clubhouse for the pre-party, the one before our charity run for Breast Cancer, an event the Heelz organized yearly in honor of our founder’s mother, Leggs.
I strutted through the crowd, my boots clicking on the wood floor, chin up and shoulders back. The Hell on Heelz were holding their own, as always, surrounded by a mix of other bikers and weekend riders. But because of our truce Slayers were here, too.
The girls and I had claimed our usual spot, a table in the corner, close enough to the action but far enough to keep an eye on things.
Rage was in deep conversation with Brat and Riptide, the new power couple, while Pixie and Razor were engaged in a lively debate about the best route for our next ride and more importantly our next con. The usual chaos, but with an undercurrent of trouble.
And then, there he was. Boiler. The burly enforcer of the Slayers, the guy I’d saved all those years ago, back when we were supposed to be enemies. He was making his way toward me, cutting through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. My pulse quickened, but I wasn’t about to let him see that.
The way he acted at the meeting had caught me off guard. And I hated to be caught unaware. Boiler claimed there was something between us. Something unspoken all these years just because I avoided him like the plague. Man was dead wrong. I avoided him, sure, because he could talk about what happened that night, out me to my sisters. Although the girls wouldn’t fault me for saving a life. The Heelz were nothing like the Slayers.
Fact was, Boiler was the Slayers’ enforcer. Mean as all get out, bigger than a motherfucker, ex-military, just like my ex-husband. I had a type, an alpha bigger and meaner than me. Since leaving Jeff, I’d gotten bigger, my muscles toned, and my breasts done. Not to mention a whole hell of a lot meaner. Boiler was a whole lot tougher and larger than Jeff. So, he fit the bill. But I’d learned my lesson and swore off relationships.
“Tank.” His low voice rumbled through me.
“Boiler.” I folded my arms across my cleavage, raising an eyebrow. “Come to thank me for saving your ass?”
My sisters laughed.
He smirked, that cocky grin of his that made me want to slap him. Maybe kiss him. I thought that would throw him off. I asked him not to tell, but my closest sisters knew all.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m here to see if you’ve finally learned some manners. I made you a lovely offer.”
I snorted. “Manners? From you? Please, you’re more likely to find a unicorn around here.”
His laugh was deep and genuine, and for a second, I almost forgot why I was supposed to be keeping my distance. “Well played, Tank. But seriously, thanks for that night. I owe you one.”
“Who’s keeping count?” I shot back, a playful glint in my eye.
“Fair enough,” he conceded, stepping closer, invading my personal space in a way that was both infuriating and thrilling. “But I’m here to settle another score. You and me, we’ve got some unfinished business.”
I tilted my head, pretending to be bored. “Oh? And what business might that be?”
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “The kind that involves breaking down those walls you’ve got up. The bitch facade you think will keep everyone out.”
I rolled my eyes, shoving him back a step. “Good luck with that, big guy. Life’s a bitch and so am I. Those walls are reinforced steel. Nothing gets through. Especially not a Slayer.”
Boiler was unfazed by my bravado. “We’ll see about that. I’m a persistent bastard.”
Pixie, never one to miss out on a good show, sidled up beside me. “You two need a room?” she teased.
“Shut it, Pixie,” I snapped, but there was no real heat in my words.
“Come on, Tank,” Razor added, joining the fray. “Give the man a chance. Might do you some good to loosen up a bit.”
“Loosen up?” I shot back. “I’m plenty loose. Just not for this clown.”
Boiler’s grin widened. “Clown, huh? Why don’t you listen to your sisters and loosen up. I know what will loosen you up.” He grabbed his crotch.
That was my cue to head to the bar. “I’m not drunk enough for this shit.”
Throughout the night, Boiler persisted. The chemistry between us became a living, breathing thing, a live wire crackling with unspoken challenges and barely contained desire. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was curious to see where this dangerous game might lead.
I was propped up against the bar, nursing a beer, when I felt a presence beside me. Some guy I recognized, his breath reeking of cheap beer, was sidling up way too close for comfort.
"Hey there, gorgeous," he slurred, leaning in, his hand brushing against my arm. "How about a drink?"
I turned away from him. "Not interested, buddy."
He didn’t take the hint, his hand sliding down my back. "Come on, honey bunch, don’t be like that."
I tensed, my jaw clenching. Before I could react, Boiler was there, his massive frame blocking the guy’s view of me. "Back off, man. She said no."
The guy sneered, swaying slightly. "Who the hell are you? Her bodyguard?"
Boiler’s eyes were cold. "I’m the guy who’s gonna break your face if you don’t leave her alone."
I stepped in, shoving Boiler aside. "I can handle this."
The guy’s hand suddenly grabbed my ass, and that was it. Before I could swing my fist, Boiler launched himself at the creep, knocking him to the ground with a single punch. The guy’s friend took a swing at Boiler, and that was all it took. The Slayers responded. The Heelz, respecting the truce, joined them battling some unknown riders. The bar erupted into chaos, bikers jumping into the fray, fists flying and chairs crashing onto the floor.
Boiler was a total beast, knocking out anyone who crossed his path. I couldn’t help but be impressed by his sheer ferocity, even as I grabbed a beer bottle and waded into the brawl myself, landing punches and dodging blows.
The fight was over as quickly as it had started as some out-of-town riders learned a hard lesson. Boiler stood there, breathing hard, his knuckles bloody. He caught my eye, a wild look in his gaze, before he turned and left with his brothers, the Slayers retreating into the night.
I watched them go, my heart still racing. Pixie sidled up beside me, a smirk on her face. "You okay?"
I nodded, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Yeah. That guy bothering me was nothing."
Pixie raised an eyebrow. "And you let Boiler take care of it?"
I shrugged, not wanting to explain. "Sometimes it’s nice to have backup."
Pixie laughed, shaking her head. "You’ve got it bad, Tank."
I scoffed, but I couldn’t deny the truth. Boiler had stepped up, defended me without hesitation, and that meant something. It meant a lot. No one defended me anymore, well no man. I was Tank, a biker bitch, and proud. I held my own. Having a man step up for me was nicer than I wanted to admit. As much as I hated to confess it, I was starting to see him in a whole new light.
But then Rage was in front of me, bitching about how our bar fight may have ruined the run. “You know we need the riding clubs for this run at least. Tank, it’s for charity. It’s for the Banshee, God rest her soul. Now they may not show up at all.”
“It wasn’t any of my doing. Boiler started it. And he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the truce.”
Rage crossed her arms. “And that’s my doing? Is that what you have issue with?”
I wasn’t about to get into a fight with my president. Shrugging, I lifted my eyes to her. “I didn’t start the fight, but I should’ve, I was about to. I guess we need to put the word out if they don’t show, we’ll beat on their asses again.”
“Alright, leaving it up to you to take care of it. Run’s next week and we’d better not have lost anyone.”