Page 3

Tank

I watch Mira’s curvy ass follow Marx down the hall and try to ignore all the looks staring my way. Flopping down onto the couch I rest my head against the back. It’s been a day and I have no idea why Mira decided now was the perfect time to resurface. Not that I’m complaining. I think about the unusual woman periodically, and I’m not sure why. Yes, she is gorgeous, but there’s more to a person than their looks. Unlike my brothers who loved when we had the club whores and parties where townie women would come to walk on the wild side, I never quite joined them in their excitement for strange women. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not, nor have I ever been, a monk. I just need more than a pretty face and a fantastic ass or tits to get me interested. And this woman, Mira? Well, there’s no denying she’s interesting.

By the time I tip my head up, I’m met with three sets of eyes staring at me. Maybe six if you count all the children in front packs staring at me, along with their moms.

“Can I help you ladies?”

“Yes!” Nat says, taking a seat next to me, jostling little Rosie in the process. “Who was that woman? We need details right now.”

“Come on Tank, spill! She was gorgeous AND she looked like a lot of fun. We need more fun women around here,” Ana adds. Lovely nods emphatically.

“I think you need more boring women around here. You lot are trouble,” Savage says, kissing Nat on the top of her head from behind the couch.

“Shush you. Don’t cramp our style. Or steal our pink or whatever the hell the saying is when new moms are trying to get their mojo back. It’s been Momville since we popped out these precious bundles. We need excitement. And these lovely ladies-” Nat waves toward Ana and Lovely “- need more than just me to hang out with.”

“Maybe don’t say it like that. It makes it sound like me and Lovely don’t have any other friends,” Ana says to her.

“You don’t,” Chewy says, pushing Chomper in his stroller, parking him up next to me and then joining the other ladies in staring at me. “Spill, dude.”

I scrub my hand down my face, knowing they’ll harass me until I’ve spilled everything I know. “Fine. I met her the day I was taken into the station. She was in the holding cell next to mine. She writes ‘sexy murder books’,” I say, using my fingers as quotation marks, “and she was arrested when she persistently asked a big man if he could lift her up, then something happened and she slipped and fell on top of him with her tits out.”

“Wait,” Chewy asks, head tipped to the side. “How’d her tits fall out?”

“You’ll have to ask her for those details,” I shrug. I mean, I’m still not overly sure about the finer details.

“Huh,” Chewy says, squinting at me. “I’m sure I can get it out of her.”

I stare at her. Chewy is, for want of a better word, disturbed. In the best possible way. Sometimes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I won’t hurt her. I’ll just ask.” She frowns.

“I wouldn’t get too attached if I were you,” Rhodie says, coming up behind his woman, pulling her back into his front. “She wants to set up an office here in the common room to write her MC themed book. Marx ain’t gonna let that fly,” he says, dropping a kiss onto the top of Chewy’s mop of hair.

“Listen up!” Marx calls us to attention. “Mira here will be based here at the clubhouse while she writes her book for the next two weeks. Nobody mess with her. Got it?” Marx’s voice booms out, making all us brothers stare wide-eyed in their direction.

“What the actual fuck?” Rhodie whispers, staring at his brother like he has two heads.

Probably in the same way I’m staring. Not just at Marx wondering what the fuck is going on, but also at Mira, Writer Lady, who has a massive grin on her face as she waves back at everyone, including Blanche who walked in just before Marx’s announcement. The women speed talk to get her up to date, all hustling in Mira’s direction.

“Church!” Marx calls out, surprising us as we never meet midweek. Luckily, we’re all here, so we file into the room where all our serious business takes place.

Judging by my brother’s faces I can tell we’re all a little shell shocked by Marx’s announcement. Not just because we don’t know Mira, and Wire hasn’t vetted her, but also because he never ran it by Rhodie or Rider, his VP enforcer and SAA.

“What the fuck, Marx?” Rhodie barks as soon as his ass hits his seat.

“Brother, watch your tone,” Marx growls back, staring him down, and then the rest of us. “I know this seems out of left field, but I think we can all agree that a woman like Mira, a writer and ballsy as fuck, judging by how she met Tank,” his eyes flick to mine, “is not the type to discourage easily. As in, if she wants to research our MC for her romance book or whatever, she’ll do that with, or without our help. Or permission.”

Now that he’s pointing it out, I can see where he’s coming from. The woman got arrested after harassing a man much larger than her. She’s not going to stop coming around here even if we do say no. Although she’s more likely to stalk us from afar. This way, we can control how much she learns about us.

“So, you give her access, and we sanitize how much she sees?” Savage asks, as per usual right on the same wavelength as Marx. Makes sense as he was a Pres himself once.

“Exactly, brother. This also means, brother ,” Marx directs to Rhodie, his actual brother, “that we need Chewy on her best behavior.”

“Hey! She’s been pretty normal lately. Business has been settled and she hasn’t maimed anyone for ages.”

“Dude, she owns a fucking gator,” Dex says.

“Well, aside from Chomper. But he’s, like, totally a normal pet. Loads of people have gators as pets,” Rhodie answers sounding a little butthurt that someone would want to use Chomper as a reason for Chewy not to be “normal.”

“In Texas?” Nitro asks, brow raised. He’s fucking with Rhodie, because I can see his lips twitching.

“Yes, in fucking Texas! Besides, it’s not my woman you should worry about. It’s the rest of them. You know they’re all a little wild. Especially when they get together,” Rhodie lays out, the MC brothers all nodding in agreement. We’ve all had to get involved in wrangling the women at least once during girls’ nights, and it’s not pretty.

“Shit, yeah you’re right. Everyone, try to keep an eye on the women. As much as you can without it being suspicious. The last thing we need is for them to get into trouble. I know things have been kinda settled recently, Tank’s arrest aside, so let’s try to keep it that way. We’re not a fucking 1% club, but shit if it hasn’t felt like it at times.” Marx runs a hand down his beard, looking more relaxed than he has for a while. Or I guess as relaxed as he can be given that he’s just agreed to let a romance author set up base for a couple of weeks.

“On it, Pres. Try to keep the women and their crazy shit away from the nice writer lady,” Fox nods.

“Hopefully she’ll be busy tapping away on her laptop working on her book, rather than getting drunk and disorderly with the Ol Ladies.”

“Famous last words, Pres,” Dex says, a glint in his eye.

Flack’s shaking his head from side to side knowing that shit could go sideways any moment with this lot involved. Add in a creative type woman with no inner monologue, and well, it could very well be a recipe for disaster.

Marx must recognize this because after a moment he says, “I’ll talk to Mama Debs.” He nods.

Everyone knows if there is anyone with the power to look chaos in the eye and wrangle it into submission, it’s Mama Debs. I mean, shit, being Pops’ Ol Lady ain’t for the weak.

“Alright, Church over. Behave yourselves.”

Mira

Once Marx makes his announcement I march straight over to the table that I think will be the perfect place for me to write and I start unpacking my tote. It has all my writing essentials - laptop, colorful notepads, and pencils with pompoms on the top. Various fidget toys and this fat hippo that wobbles when you pick it up.

“What are you doing?” a small voice asks and I’m jolted out of my setup. Looking around for the voice, my eyes land on a small dark girl with dark blonde curls and large hazel eyes, and her little friend, pale skin with almost black hair and eyes. There’s a boy standing with them that looks a lot like the dark-haired girl, but he seems bored with this conversation already.

“Oh, I’m just setting up my writing stuff.”

“Why?”

“Because I write?”

“Is that a question?” the boy asks. I think it’s aimed at me even if he’s looking somewhere else.

“Yes?”

The dark-haired boy frowns down at the floor like I’m an idiot. A beautiful darkly tanned woman with wild hair steps up next to him. She’s also not looking directly at me, instead looking somewhere over my shoulder. The boy turns to her, but doesn’t look up.

“She’s not very good at answering questions,” he tells her before walking off.

I would be offended but I don’t have time as more women join the one across from me.

“Hi! Tank didn’t introduce us before.” An equally beautiful woman with black hair says.

Ruh Roh. These women are all stunning. And kinda normal looking. I, on the other hand, am not normal by any stretch of the imagination. Three of them have baby carriers strapped to their fronts, one looks like she may have a slight bump, and the one with wild hair is pushing a stroller. I’m not sure we’ll have much in common, but I’ll try.

“I’m Nat,” the one who spoke first says. “This is Ana,” she indicates a woman who has super shiny dark hair and is wearing very fancy clothes for a mom, super classy like. “This is Lovely, and Blanche, they’re sisters,” That’s easy to tell, they look very alike, much like the boy who questioned me and the little girl who is still staring. “Oh, Remy is coming this way now.” A blonde woman skids to a stop in front of me, giving me the sweetest smile. “And the woman with the gator is Chewy.”

I double blink at this information. “Can you repeat that?”

Nat gives me a sly grin and then says slowly, “The woman with the gator is Chewy.”

“Chewy” gives me a megawatt grin, leans into the stroller, fussing for a moment before slowly bringing her hands up. My eyes follow her movements as she slowly reveals a snout, a long scaled body, and then the tail.

“This is Chomper!” she coos over him then cradles him in her arms.

“Huh. Did you ever think of calling him Darth Gator?” I ask her.

Her eyes narrow for a moment and then she shakes her head. “No, not this baby. He’s special needs. See his jaw? Severe underbite, we have to cut his food up for him. The name Chomper gives him back some of his mojo. Do gators have mojo?” she asks the room.

“Momma, what’s a mojo?” the little girl with the curls asks one of the women in front of me. I’m not sure which as she doesn’t seem to resemble any of them strongly.

“It’s like his power. His spirit,” the blonde woman, Remy, answers.

“Like the kind that sometimes gets left behind when you die and haunts places?” the little girl asks with a frown.

“Not quite, baby. I’m not sure gators can be ghosts.”

“Nothing can be ghosts,” Chewy answers matter of factly.

There’s a lot of tooing and froing and speculation and it’s all a little weird and I kinda love it. Apart from the part where I still have no idea who is who. “OK, wait. There’s like, a lot of you here and apart from names I’m going to need a fun fact to remember you all by until we know each other better.” I look around at them all nodding. “I’ll start, I’m Mira, and I write sexy murder books. Oh, and I have a cool collection of gnomes and swords.”

“I’ll need to see those sometime,” Chewy says, stroking Chomper.

“Um, I’m Lovely, and this is Bee,” One of the two sisters says as she waves her baby’s fat little hand at me. “I’m not really that interesting.” She smiles apologetically. What a total sweetheart.

“That is a boldfaced lie!” The one I think is called Ana says. Well, that’s what I think she says.

“Wait, what the heck was that noise!? Do you have an accent?” I exclaim, and point, so she knows I mean her and no one else.

She just smiles and rolls her eyes. “No. You have accents,” she says, waving around at everyone, jostling the very chubby dark-haired baby strapped to her front.

“Look, maybe I should have introduced everyone better before. I just wasn’t sure how in-depth you wanted to get.” Nat shrugs, her black wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders. Why are all these women so hot? And short? “I’m Nat, this is Rosie.” She points to a baby wearing a headband with a giant black bow on her head. “I’m Savage’s Ol Lady. We’re ex Death Riders MC. We transferred here after the Death Riders Pres tried to kidnap Remy.” The blonde woman smiles widely and waves at me. This is good shiitake, I should write this stuff down. For inspiration.

“Do you mind if I take notes? Don’t worry, I won’t use you as characters, just maybe story inspiration,” I ask, brows raised.

“Oh, go ahead. You can even use us as characters, as long as character us gets paired with hot men and stuff,” Remy giggles.

“Maybe two,” Ana crows to a chorus of cackles.

Grinning, I pick up my pencil and notebook and wave Nat on. “OK, Remy is Wire’s Ol Lady and Jovie’s mom.” Nat points to the little girl. “Wire and Remy were childhood pen pals that fell in love. Remy came here from the Death Riders to learn how to hack from Wire, not knowing that he was the pen pal she had been writing for like, 16 years. Anyway, Remy and Jovie were kidnapped…”

“And Wire saved them after tearing the whole world apart?” I ask. I love that kind of storyline. The big bad biker goes mad trying to save his woman, with all his MC brothers at his back.

“Um, no. Remy got Jovie out, she helped us find where they were keeping Remy, and by the time Wire got there Remy had freed herself and captured her kidnapper.”

I turn my wide eyes to the gentle, sweet mom lady in front of me. “Shut the front door!” I whisper as I note that down.

“Next is Ana. She’s originally from New Zealand, came for a holiday, discovered a man in the trunk of a car, saved him and is now best friends with him and his husband. The husband is the Pakhan of the Bartashev Bratva.”

“No way!” I yell in shock as Ana tips her head back and laughs. “You know the Bratva?”

“I work for them. Well, not at the moment, I’m on leave.” She waves to the baby. “This is Junior.”

“Wow. And here I was thinking you were going to be normal boring moms!” I shake my head as they all laugh.

Once they calm down, Nat points to the sisters. “Those two grew up in a religious cult. Blanche got out years ago, but was going back to rescue women wanting to leave. She rescued Lovely and little Bee when their Uncle-husband tried to sell Bee.”

I stare wide-eyed at the dark-haired little girl in the carrier and can feel my blood boiling.

“Don’t worry, Blanche went in and ended the cult. And their Uncle-husband. Oh, it’s probably also good to point out that Blanche has a million kids.”

“Hey!” Blanche says indignantly at the same time the little starey girl says it.

Nat just laughs and waves at her. “That’s Cove. The boy is Elio. The two big ones over there are Niko and Sage. Anyway, Blanche is Chewy’s brother’s Ol Lady. Ana is married to another brother. There’s still one free if you’re a fan of tall, dark and handsome.” Nat says with a grin.

My eyes flick toward the other side of the room to the door where the men are walking through, landing on the quiet, big blonde biker.

“Fair enough,” Ana laughs.

“Last but not least, Chewy is, well Chewy.” Nat says, waving in her direction. The woman gives me a goofy wave.

“So, with that intro, I’m guessing you’re the normal one?”

This causes the women to burst into hysterical laughter. Well, all of them except Chewy, who shrugs at me.

“Chewy is wonderful and intelligent and fun and just a little scary,” another big blonde biker says, coming up to throw his arm around her shoulders.

“This is my bestie Rider,” she says, without looking at him.

“And your bestie still doesn’t have a friendship bracelet,” he glares at her.

“I’m waiting for the perfect time,” she shrugs.

“Get your fucking arm off my Ol Lady,” a deep voice growls, sending shivers right down to my undercarriage.

This guy is big and looks somewhat familiar, but I know I’ve never met him before. “This is my Ol Man, Rhodie,” Chewy says, beaming up at him, the first time I’ve seen her make any sort of eye contact.

“He’s Marx’s biological brother,” Remy adds, and it makes sense now. Rhodie is a lighter, leaner version of Marx’s dark and huge. “Both Rhodie and Chewy are the DRMC Enforcers.”

“Wait, Chewy is an MC member?” I ask. That makes the DRMC way more interesting. I never knew they had female members. I thought that was pretty rare amongst MCs.

“Yes and no,” Rhodie answers me. “Not an official member, but Chewy has a certain set of skills that we use.” He winks.

Man, I hit the jackpot accidentally assaulting that man that day and getting hauled into RGPD and meeting Tank and then using his name to get my foot in the door. This place is perfect for my research. I watch as they all mix and mingle. The men who have Ol Ladies all come over and introduce themselves before wandering off with their women and children, and I try to commit everything to memory. Well, the stuff that seems helpful. Like the family vibe and how everyone seems to get on like siblings. There are brothers ragging on each other, children running around, women mixing with the men, the children and each other. Although I wonder where the female entertainment is. The club bunnies or whatever you call them. So far everyone is fully dressed, not an areola to be seen. Maybe they come out under the cover of darkness. Once the kids go to bed they sneak out of their rooms in the back of the clubhouse, bringing with them their dancing pole so they can put on a show. Glancing around I try to make a mental note of where naked bodies and fluids may be.

“It’s a lot, huh?” a gentle voice says, breaking me out of my thoughts to focus on Lovely smiling softly at me.

“Is Lovely a nickname because you’re so lovely?” I ask her, wanting to know more about everyone here.

She giggles softly. “No, it’s my birth name. In Eden’s Keep we all were given “virtue” names. Blanche’s real name is Patience and our brothers are named Wisdom, Victory, and Christian. They run a swamp boating and gator rescue place in Louisiana.”

Ah, now I know why there’s a disabled gator living in Rose Grove, Texas. This is all just so weird and wonderful and my brain is firing on all cylinders thinking up scenarios and characters and ideas and oh man I need to get this all down.

I drop down at the table and open my laptop, vaguely hearing a soft, sweet giggle moving further and further away from me as I get to work. I have spreadsheets out the wazoo to help with word counts and characters and plans and all manner of things, so I work my way methodically through them. By the time I’ve finished planning and plotting and brain dumping everything I sit back and realize the common room is quiet and still. There’s a plate next to me with a selection of little sandwiches and cakes and the clock on the wall says it’s after 10pm.

“Christ on a cracker!” I mutter to myself and set about packing my things up.

“I wondered when you were going to come out of your writing fog,” a voice says, scaring the crumbs out of me, this morning’s breakfast trying to beat a hasty retreat out of my bowels. “Shit, sorry Mira! It’s me, Tank.”

“You need a bell! You move far too stealthily for a big man, holy cluck nuggets!”

He chuckles at me, shaking his head. “I saw you come on your push-bike. Can I drop you home? Or you can stay here in one of the guest rooms. Marx offered.”

“Oh, can I?! I’ve never stayed in a clubhouse before, it’ll be a good story. When I tell people I bunked here for the night they’ll totally think I had a moment of adventure and became a club ‘entertainer’ for the night. That’ll blow their socks off!”

He gives me a puzzled smile then waves his hand in the direction of the hall, “Come on then Miss Adventure, let me show you to your room.”