Page 12

Tank

“ W hat in the…?” Nitro mumbles under his breath and I follow his line of sight.

There, on a powder blue push bike with a sequin rainbow backpack is the woman who seems to always be in my thoughts.

“What the fuck is she doing?” I growl.

She’s weaving all over the main road out to the clubhouse. At one point she wobbles dangerously before righting herself.

“Why the hell is she dressed like a fucking rainbow threw up?” Nitro asks, slowing down as we pull up beside her.

“Writer Lady, what in the fuck are you doing?” I growl at her through the open window.

“Oh, hi Tyson! I’ve got to get to the clubhouse, I had a missed package delivery. They said it was redirected - whoa! Calm down Mrs. McKenzie! - argh, anyway, I’m on my way to the clubhouse,” She beams up at me while she has one hand on the fattest ginger cat I’ve ever seen, the other hand white knuckling the handlebar. “Mrs. McKenzie you settle down right this instant! You wanted this!” she screeches.

“Fuck this.” I mutter under my breath. “Mira, pull over, you too Nitro.” Nitro drives ahead of Mira, pulling over to the side of the road.

As soon as the car comes to a halt I get out, walk to the crazy woman, scoop the fat ginger cat up in one arm and carry him to the SUV. The Tombs’ stop their SUV further ahead, checking in on us so I wave my arm in a circle in the air then point straight ahead. Gus gives me a thumbs up out of his driver’s window and pulls back onto the road, heading to the clubhouse.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Mira, get in the car. You’ll hurt yourself biking with this fatty,” I yell back to her, placing the so called Mrs. McKenzie gently in the back seat.

Turning to look back at Mira, she has her arms crossed over her chest, pushing up those plump tits of hers, but her lips are twitching as she watches me. I gesture to the car and she rolls her eyes, dismounting her bike and pushing it toward me.

“I can bike the rest of the way if you want to take Mrs. McKenzie?”

“Nope. Get your pretty little ass in the car with that monster cat of yours and I’ll load your bike in the back.”

She grins at me and then sashays off. “He said I had a little ass,” she squeals to herself.

“Pretty little ass.” I correct her, shaking my head as I push her bright yellow bike with goddamn spoke decals to the trunk, opening the back and placing her bike in the back of the SUV.

Shutting her up nice and tight I climb back inside, slamming my car door behind me, staring straight ahead, waiting for Nitro to pull out. I can see his asshole grin from the corner of my eye but I ignore him and the beautiful menace in the backseat.

“Thanks for the ride guys. I didn’t think Mrs. Mac would be such a pain on the bike but alas, cycling is not in the cards for her.” Mira laments, giving her cat pets on its fat belly while it snores in the backseat.

“Why the hell were you biking with a cat anyway?” Nitro asks.

“Oh, I heard a noise on my front porch and when I went to look I saw a card saying I had a package delivery, but it was redirected to the clubhouse. It seemed hinky so I was making my way to DRMC to intercept it.” She shrugs one shoulder, the motion causing her tits to jiggle in the brightly colored blouse she’s wearing.

“Shit. Do you think it was the guy?” Nitro asks her.

“The guy?”

“You know, the guy that’s doing this,” Nitro answers.

I flick my eyes to the rearview so I can gauge her reaction. Her brows are furrowed and she’s chewing on her plump lower lip. Why the hell does she have to be so sexy? She frowns for a moment then shakes her head, her blonde hair flying in all directions.

“How do you know it’s a man? It could be anyone. Most of my fans are women.”

I spin to look at her. “Do you think it’s a woman doing this?”

She looks out the window as we pull into the DRMC and park the SUV behind our garages. “I’m not really too sure what to think, Tyson. I’m a good person. I pay my taxes and give to charity and I talk to all the old people in the supermarket and ask how their grandchildren are. I mean, there was that one time that I laughed when a teenager slipped in a mud puddle, but I feel like anyone would have laughed at that. And he had good bones and stuff so I knew he was fine.”

Nitro turns to look at me and blinks once, then twice. “Good luck with that one, Tyson ,” the asshole then snickers and gets out of the SUV, slamming the door extra hard.

“Come on, let’s see what this package is.”

She nods, slides her backpack on one shoulder and then scoops her cat up, cradling it in her arms the same way Chewy does with Chomper and the ladies do with their babies.

“Oh, it’s after work time! Everyone will be in. I love it when everyone is in. There’s so many people to talk to and watch. Everyone is having fun.” She turns to me as we walk side by side to the main doors, “That’s what I like most. You must love it. It’d be like living with your family every single day.” She beams up at me and I think through her words.

I know that deep down the DRMC is family, but it’s only really just started feeling like since Chewy crashed into our lives. Before then we would call ourselves a family, but it was more like a frat house. A place for us to crash when we arrived stateside. Safe, people that understood what it’s like to readjust, and businesses we could all work. Since the addition of Chewy, the Tombs’, the Death Riders, all the Ol Ladies and now the kids, now it feels more like a family.

Clearing my throat, I think of the best way to put my thoughts into words. “I never really had much of a family, just me and my gramps. Now I have nieces and nephews and brothers and uncles. Shit, even a bunch of little sisters that run riot in there. “It’s,” I swallow, “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her eyes twinkle at my sharing my thoughts, and I love when she smiles softly, not needing me to elaborate or explain. She just gets me. I hold her gaze for a moment, then the door bangs open.

“Hey Tank, hey Mira. Whoa, that’s a fat cat!” Sage calls in her sweet voice. Niko follows behind her looking a hell of a lot bigger than the day he turned up with his three siblings in tow.

“Hey Bigs, where are you going?” I ask, moving my bulk aside so they can get past.

“Sage has cheer squad and I have football practice. Before you ask, Takoda is off spying duty and is on drop off and pick up.” He grins at me on his way past.

I’m not even going to bother asking how he knows what the prospects are up to. Kid has grown up with an investigator mother, and now a security expert father. He knows how to ferret for information. Shit, even his younger siblings are experts at it. He slaps me on the shoulder and I just smile and shake my head at him. Sage is a lot sweeter as she rests her hand on my forearm and moves past. She doesn’t pay me too much attention, probably because her eyes are on Takoda this whole time.

“OOhhhh, I see what’s happening there,” Mira whispers as she watches the trio head for the SUV.

I catch her eye. It’s so nice to not tower too much over a woman. I can look at Mira without getting a crick in my neck. “What do you think is happening there?”

“Well, that girl has one hell of a crush on that barman biker. Maybe one day she’ll go to college and then when she comes back all grown up she’ll meet him again. He’ll be all burly and weathered and have had some type of biker trauma. Ooooh maybe he lost a leg in a shootout! And now he’s got bad self esteem or something because he used to be a ladies’ man and now all the shallow women are all like ‘ew! A one legged biker!’ and it will be all up to Sage to show him his worth through her love.” Her fat cat yawns and jumps out of her arms, making its way into the clubhouse as she lets out a sigh and stares up at me with dreamy eyes.

I stare back at her, not sure whether to kiss her or run. On one hand her brain and her imagination have me in awe. She’s talented, clever and colorful. On the other hand I will never be able to live up to the men in her imagination and that scares the hell out of me. I like her, like really like her. I can see us spending time together talking about books and her methods, and just maybe I could get back into my writing. Nothing as serious as hers, of course, but as a hobby it’s a great outlet for my thoughts and worries and stresses.

“Sorry Biker Man, did I freak you out?”

I stare at her a beat longer and think, “Fuck those imaginary men,” before slamming my lips onto hers.

Mira

Holy shitballs! Yes, that’s right I am cursing! But it’s in my head so it doesn’t matter and Nana won’t even know what’s happening. Just like she won’t know that right at this very moment the very hot, very sweet Tank has his firm lips on mine. After the initial shock that his mouth was touching my mouth I felt myself lean into his strong, hard body. His large hands move to cup my cheeks and he softens the kiss, gently nibbling at my lips drawing a moan from me. Taking that as a sign his tongue runs along my bottom lip, seeking entrance. Even trying to get his tongue into my mouth he’s a total gentleman. I sigh, my tongue meeting his as I melt into him.

He angles my head and deepens the kiss. I feel it all the way to my toes, butterflies going wild in my stomach. He pulls back slightly, sipping from my lips. I expect him to step back, maybe apologize or tell me he made a mistake, but instead he pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me.

“Thank you, Doll.”

I have no idea what he’s thanking me for, or really what in the hell just happened then, but I like it. A lot. I like him a lot. I like hearing about his inner thoughts. I know that he probably doesn’t share them much and I’m not sure why. He has things to say, and things to contribute. Instead, he sits watching, listening. He thinks through what he wants to say, or if he even has anything to say. He’s the exact opposite of me. I’m not sure if it’s because he discredits his own thoughts and opinions, but when he’s with me I want to hear them all. I will always have time to listen.

“You ready to go in?” He asks me and I snap back into the reason I’m here in the first place.

“Oh yeah. Um yup, yes. Yes I am ready. Are you ready?” He grins down at me and shakes his head and chuckles.

“Definitely.”

I take a deep breath and lead the way into the clubhouse, Tank holding the door open for me. Everyone seems to be hanging out in the common room. All the Tombs’ are here, which makes sense because I’ve noticed they congregate wherever Mama Debs is, with her ever present apron and the delicious food smells emanating from the kitchen. The little kids are all on the couch taking turns petting Mrs. Mac, the Ol Ladies are at the table in the corner that seems to be where they always sit and the brothers are spread out between the couches and the bar.

“There she is!” Chewy stands, pointing directly at me causing the room to go silent. Crickets.

My pulse starts to rise and I want to hide somewhere. Anywhere. I hate being the center of attention. It reminds me of all the times I played the lobster during the Nativity play and all the adults laughed. The memory of how awful that was twists up my bowels and I need to disappear. Figuring standing behind Tyson would be a great hidey hole, I slide slowly behind his bulk, hoping that no one noticed me.

“Ah, Doll? They can all see you,” Tyson’s choked voice says. I just know he’s trying to hold his laughter in.

“Shhh! On the count of three I need you to slowly shuffle backward toward the door,” I whisper yell at him. “THREE!”

“Um, where is she going?” Chewy’s voice asks someone. Someone who just laughs in reply rather than answers. “Mira! Writer Lady! Where are you going? There’s a package here for you and I’m dying to see what it is!”

Shoot! I forgot all about that dumb package. The whole reason I was here in the first place. My brain must have gotten addled, what with the bike ride from hell and Tyson kissing the living daylights out of me and then cuddling me. God that was so nice. Being all up in his warm, hard chest. A thick arm wraps around me, Tyson’s hand gently gripping my forearm, tugging me to move from behind his wide back, and moving me to stand beside him. He doesn’t let go of my arm however, no, he slides his hand down my forearm, meeting my hand, his fingers twining with mine. He gives my hand a little squeeze, giving me the strength I need to stop bricking it.

“OK. Yes, I’m here for the big package unveiling!” I decide to cover my discomfort with bravado and drama. I wave my free hand in a jazz hands type of way and let Tyson’s chuckle soothe me.

Chewy gets up and power walks directly into a table, bouncing off, Chomper’s legs in the front pack jolting slightly. “Hate when that happens” she mutters, righting her course and beelining her way toward the table in front of me, coming to a stop next to a boring brown box.

“Huh. That’s a lot bigger than the last one,” I mumble under my breath.

I slowly tiptoe my way closer. I don’t think there’s a bomb in there, but still, I’m a big girl. I don’t want to accidentally jostle it with my giant Fee Fi Fo Fum footsteps. Looking up I notice everyone’s rapt attention. Running my fingers over the top of the box I start to pick at the tape at the end, jumping when Tyson rests a hand on my hip and flicks out his pen knife.

“Sorry, Doll,” he murmurs in my ear, the thumb of the hand on my hip stroking back and forth hypnotically, causing a good fire in my groin. Not like the one on our date.

He easily slices through the tape along the top of the box, and then the sides, waiting for me to open the flaps. Looking around the room, at the audience waiting for the unveiling, I take a deep breath, let it out and then gingerly open the flaps, first one, then the other.

Nothing jumps out at me, so that’s a good sign. Peering inside I see pink tissue paper. Huh. Not really wanting to touch it too much I use a pincer grip to take up the edge and slowly move it out of the box, dropping it to the table once it comes away clean.

“Ugh this is taking too long! Want me to do it?” Chewy asks, almost vibrating with excitement and wonder.

I wave at her to step forward. I’m not a scaredy cat, but I’m also not one to steal the moment off someone who really would appreciate it. She claps her hands, then high fives Rhodie before taking excited little tippy toe steps to the box. She dives straight in, like a kid in a lucky dip barrel, hands first, peering over the top of the box.

“Ahhh, something is afoot!” She announces, mirth on her face as she steps back with a foot in her hand.

There are yelps and shouts and it all sounds very, very far away. Like I’m in a tunnel. Or like there’s an ocean in my ears. But not in a good way like when you go to the beach with your nana and listen to shells. No, this is like the type of ocean you hear when you’re drowning.

“Chewy! Put the fucking foot down!” Marx barks, just as Chewy mimes kicking Rhodie’s behind with it. She places it back in the box, but not before turning it this way and that, having a good ole looksee.

“Switch, mind taking a look at it? Tell us what you can,”

Chewy goes to open her mouth to report back, but Marx silences her with a hand up.

Switch, the loud ginger doctor man I’ve chatted to once or twice, pulls a pair of glasses out of his pocket, rests them on his face, and takes a look at the appendage in the box. While he’s doing this, Rhodie looks at the box from all angles, mumbling something to Rider.

While the MC look further into the goddamned (sorry Nana) foot I’ve been sent, Tyson guides me toward the worn leather couch, takes a seat and then pulls me onto his lap. HIs arms wrap around me, holding me tight. I never knew how touch starved I’ve been lately, since nana died, but this right here brings it home. It feels so good to be given a hug when I’m not feeling on top of things. Usually I get deep into my head and think up the worst possible scenarios. But here, in this moment I feel calm, in control, and warm.

“You holding up OK there, Doll?” Tyson’s voice vibrates through me. I melt further into him, letting him take my weight because I know he can handle it.

“Well, I’ve never received a foot before. I’ve also never seen one not attached to a body either, so I guess it’s a day of firsts for me,” I tell him honestly, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He squeezes me tighter and I watch Switch continue on with his foot-topsy.

“Well, it’s the lower extremity of someone who is advanced in age.” Switch booms. He has the loudest voice of anyone I’ve ever met. I like it.

“That tracks to what we found at the funeral home,” Tav says, stepping forward, Pops right behind him.

“Yeah, by the looks of it they’ve been having a go at the freshies. The four we looked at all had scars on their abdomens, not autopsy incisions either,” Pops says, effectively shutting down Savage before he could even ask. “These ones were small incisions, then glued back together. If you weren’t looking closely you’d never even notice they’d been tampered with.”

“Yeah but taking a foot from the ankle down? Surely a family member will miss that?” I’m not sure who said that, as there’s so many brothers asking questions and I don’t know them well enough to tell them by voice just yet.

“Yeah, dunno, that does seem extra fucked up,” Pops shrugs.

“Not to mention the bodies we saw had their feet,” Tav adds.

Marx lets out a long breath, “Gus, what else can you tell us about the funeral home?”

“Definitely on the take. Place is covered in marble and there are way more staff than a place that size should need,” Gus, the hot one married to Ana says.

“Any long haired orc motherfuckers?”

“None that we saw. Unless they keep the ugly people out the back, all we saw was creepily good looking Russians,” he replies.

Marx has his hands on his hips, head down. “Does anyone have any ideas why Mira was sent a foot? Anything in any of the books?” he asks, raising his head to look around the room.

“Oh,” Lovely says, sitting up in her seat abruptly, “Hang on, I think I might have something.” She rummages around in her gigantic baby bag, then pulls out one of my books. She flicks through it quickly, frown on her face, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, her brows pinched. “Here!” She says triumphantly, “In ‘Night Peril’, the bad guy sends the heroine the foot of her lover after he accidentally stepped on her toes at the debutante ball,” she beams.

“How the hell is that meant to be romantic?” Rider asks.

“Well, he’s not really the bad guy. It turns out the one foot man is the baddy. The murdery guy is romantic, he’d do anything for the woman he loves. Even chop off feet.” Lovely answers with a sweet smile on her face. The girl gets it. I didn’t think she would, what with being the loveliest woman on earth and all.

Rider gives her an odd look then leans back in his seat, a confused look on his face.

“Right. So whoever is doing this is most definitely a fan of your books, Mira. Computer team, how far did you get with scanning Mira’s social media?”

“Not that far. Turns out that Mira’s fans are enthusiastic, and a little crazy. We’ve had to tighten our parameters and run it again,” Wire grumbles.

“Fuck. So we’re no closer to knowing anything other than the funeral home is on the take and Mira’s fan somehow has access to elderly body parts. Maybe at the home, maybe not. Fucking great.” Marx scrubs his face in frustration. “Prospects, tell me you have something a little more promising?”

Tav, Jimmy the gate prospect, and the one with the panty melting voice, Takoda I think his name is, they all look to one another before Tav decides to do the talking. “They got our warning. Three of them agreed to keep quiet, but Whitney laughed and slammed the door in our faces. After that they’ve laid pretty low, going to work in the evenings, and then coming home at the end of the shift. Their boss has a car pick them up and drop them off each time.”

“Their apartment is high end as well, in that gated area of Rose Grove. Whatever he’s paying them is big.” Melty voice Takoda adds.

Marx curses under his breath and I feel Tyson tense beneath me. I had almost forgotten he was there, too busy watching the exchange in front of me. I would normally be taking notes, but this seems personal, the private inner workings of the DRMC and I won’t sully it by taking notes like they are a side show or something.

Turning in Tyson’s arms I hit him with a stare, “Are you OK? Don’t the bunnies have something to do with you and Nitro being taken into the slammer?”

He huffs a laugh, the tightness in his body melting away slowly, “I’m good. How’d you know about the ex-bunnies anyway?”

“Do you know how much this MC gossips? I’ve been here for what, four, five days writing at that table over there, I hear pretty much everything,”

He raises his brow at me but before he can say anything I rest my fingers gently over his lips, “It’s OK. I’m a vault,” I beam at him as a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Good girl.”

Aaaand there goes my underwear.