Tanner
He and Star lay there on the rug together, beneath an afghan Star had pulled down from the couch.
Tanner had never felt contentment like this. Sure, he thought he had. But, this, this was different. This wasn't like riding his bike, or hanging out with the guys. Those were great, but, this feeling of closeness to another human being, this experience, was unlike anything he could have imagined. Right now, there was a woman pressed against his body, a woman he wanted. A woman that wanted him.
And, growing inside her belly, was his child.
His. Child.
He shook his head silently, still marveling at how he'd thought he could get into this so haphazardly. That he could just pay a woman to have his child. Then be done with the whole situation.
“What's wrong?” Star asked from beside him.
“What?” Tanner asked. “Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking, that's all.”
“Oh, don't do too much of that,” she teased.
“Why not?” Tanner teased back. “You like your men big and stupid, or something?”
“Just a little,” she said with a small smile. “I don't want them to be able to outsmart me.”
“Knew you had a thing for us dumb guys.”
Smiling still, she kissed his shoulder and snuggled her body closer to his, if that was possible.
Damn, just the feel of her skin against his. The silky smoothness, how soft she was. He gripped her tighter and pulled her closer.
“So, since you've been thinking,” Star said as she ran her hands up and down his abs, “I think I should tell you I've been thinking, too.”
“About what?”
“I don't think . . . I don't think your mom likes me very much.”
Tanner chuckled. “What makes you say that?”
“Well,” she said as she idly drew circles on his chest, “she keeps talking about what we're going to be doing with the baby after it's born. All the places she's going to take it, what kind of clothes it's going to wear. It's like she thinks it belongs to the Blood Warriors, or something.”
“Well, I did when I came out,” he replied. “I didn't turn out so bad, did I?”
She sighed. “That's not what I meant. I'm not trying to criticize you, or your mother. But, I mean, it's going to be my child, too.”
“Mom was always the wife of the president. She's always looked after all the families. It's just her instinct kicking in. Probably even worse now that Brendon's home.”
She propped her head up on her hand and looked down at him. “I just, I don't know. It just seems like every time someone else gets involved in my life, tells me how things are supposed to be, they screw it up worse than if I'd just been left alone.”
“Maybe you would've screwed it up on your own?” Tanner asked with a smile.
“It would have been nice to know, though,” she said as she shook her head. “Then, maybe, I'd know if it was my own fault, instead of someone else's. But, like I said, it's like she just doesn't trust me, or something.”
“It's just like earning your patch, that's all.”
“What?” she asked, making a face.
“When a recruit comes up, they're on a sort of probation for a while. They can ride with us on certain things, come to parties sometimes. But, they don't get their patch that actually says they're party of the club until they prove themselves.”
“So I have to prove I'm trustworthy?”
“Yeah. Just like lots of things.”
“I'm having her fucking grandbaby,” Star said in an exasperated voice, “not taking out a home loan.”
“Whatever,” he said, waving her concern off. “She's just worried, that's all, especially after all the shit Brendon put us through with that woman of his.”
“But, I'm not her and never will be.”
Tanner managed to shrug even though he was still lying down. “So? She doesn't know that. Just lay off her for a little while on being worried and protective of the baby?”
“Fine,” she begrudgingly said, and leaned into give him a peck on the lips.
“Fine,” he agreed before pulling her in for another, longer kiss. “Just let it be for a little while, okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Good,” he said and checked the clock on the wall. “Look, I gotta get going. I told Jethro I'd be back before the end of the night to help him finish closing up.”
“Okay,” she said as he threw back the knitted afghan and began to pull on his clothes. “Will you be back tonight?”
He grunted. “Maybe. Place was pretty dead when I was in there, earlier, so probably not a lot to worry about.”
She nodded as he came over. He leaned down, cupped her face in his hands, and gave her a long goodbye kiss.
Star smiled up at him with that beautiful cupid's bow of a mouth. “See you soon,” she said.
“Yeah,” he agreed, kissing her again. “Soon.”
He didn't want to go, but he'd made a promise to Jethro. And he had to keep to his word no matter what, especially since working at the Old Crow was technically club business. He forced himself out the door and back on his bike before he could change his mind and crawl back beneath the covers, with Star.
# # #
Tanner pulled up at the Old Crow, just like he always did. The bar was still dead, even though the time was close to midnight. Normally, this was right about when the rowdier booze-hounds and beer-swillers decided to show up. But, no luck tonight.
He got off his bike and went inside. Someone had put Skynyrd's “Sweet Home Alabama” on, and the classic southern rock was blaring from the corner juke box. All told, there were only a handful of guys, most of them with their ol' ladies, hanging around.
Tanner slipped behind the bar and came up beside his tragically under-worked bartender, Jethro. “Been like this all night?” he asked.
“More or less,” Jethro drawled. “Sally already cut out.”
Sally was one of their cocktail waitresses. Not great at her job, but she was easy enough on the eyes that the patrons didn't give too much of a shit if she came back with a Bud Light instead of a Miller Light.
Tanner grunted his acknowledgment and grabbed a cold beer from one of the fridges behind the counter. “What all you need me to do?”
“Switching out ice, busing some tables,” Jethro said as he poured one of the patrons a shot of bourbon. “Little stuff is all.”
Tanner took a long swig of his beer. Busing tables, refilling ice, and taking out the trash wasn't what he particularly wanted to be doing at that time of night. Especially, when the thought of Star's inviting bed and body filled his mind. But, closing duties had to be done, and he was co-manager of the place.
“Got it,” Tanner said after he swallowed down his brew. “Lemme finish this, and I'll get right to it.”
“Sounds good, boss,” Jethro said as he took the patron's money for the shot.
Tanner walked out from behind the bar, beer still in hand, and headed for one of the booths. He wasn't more than fifteen feet away, though, when the unthinkable happened.
The front door went flying open, kicked by a heavy, booted foot. “Everyone get down!” boomed a voice. “Hands where we can see them! This is the county sheriff!”
Tanner spun on his heel, shock clear as day on his face, as he saw the two big uniformed deputies barreling down on him with cuffs and batons. He put his hands out in front of him, still gripping his beer.
“Hands above your head, asshole, lemme see 'em!” one of the men shouted as Tanner went to move his hands.
“What the -” Tanner asked, but was cut off by one of the deputies slapping his beer out of his hand and the other grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm up behind his back. His thoughts went back immediately to the words his pops and Blade had always spoken to him regarding the cops.
“Tanner-boy,” Pops had always said, “the cops ever come for you, you keep your fucking mouth shut. We're not doing nothing wrong, but because we wear a vest that's got a patch on it, they think we're fucking outlaws riding around these back roads. And, yeah, there's a lot of bikers out there that are. But, the Blood Warriors, we ain't like 'em. We're family, not the mafia or fucking drug dealers. But, the cops, and regular people, they don't know that. They see you and your friends, or me and Blade, their head goes some other place, thinking we're running meth or smack. And, they ain't to be trusted. You lawyer up soon as you can, and you don't struggle unless you want your head kicked in. You hear me, boy?”
Tanner, barely a teenager at the time, had just nodded at his father's words. He didn't like the cops back then anymore than he did now. Back then, if they'd thrown him a holding tank, he'd have just lost his freedom. But, now he had even more to lose if he went to jail, especially with the baby on the way.
Instead of struggling against the cops, like he would have any other aggressor, he thought back to the words Blade had told him years before: “You're your biggest, toughest enemy.”
Keeping himself in check took everything he had, but he gritted his teeth and let the cops wrap his wrists up behind him, tightening the metal handcuffs down over his wrists. He struggled against his urges, kept them down, bottled up.
A big, plain-clothes detective came over, a notebook in hand. He was a few years older than Tanner, and his suit didn't exactly fit well. “You Tanner Rainier?” he asked as he came over.
Tanner peered up at him through eyes so narrow, they might as well have been closed. “Who's asking?”
“Detective Thurman,” he said. “We got a tip off you Blood Warriors boys are running all sorts of stuff through here. And that you're one of the owners.”
That was ridiculous. Even if they were, no one at the Blood Warriors would even try to pull that kind of thing off. All their money was wrapped up in legit businesses, like Tanner's pops' had been. Hell, finances were easier and less risky when you did them that way. This wasn't some kind of fucking TV show. But, ridiculous as the accusation was, Tanner didn't even blink. He just stared straight back at the cop.
“We have a warrant to search the premises,” Thurman said when he didn't get a reaction from Tanner.
“Then I suggest you go ahead and do your job.”
The detective continued to look at him, sizing him up. He wouldn't see any kind of deception there, not intentional deception, at least. Mainly because there wasn't any. But, cops see what cops want to see.
Tanner didn't waiver.
The detective nodded, a quick little gesture, and turned to the deputies. “Uncuff him.”
“But, detective -” one of the deputies started to say.
“I said uncuff him,” Thurman barked.
The deputy nodded quickly and started to fumble for the keys. After a second of looking, he got behind Tanner's back and started to unlock them.
“No reason we should have any animosity on this,” the detective explained.
Tanner grunted. He knew enough to not say a word or to appear too curious. They'd only find clean books, a clean backroom, and all their taxes, licenses, and the building code up to snuff. He got up off his knees, thinking about something the detective had said.
“Detective?” Tanner asked as he rubbed his wrists.
“Yeah?”
“One question, then I'll let you get back to work.”
The detective nodded.
“You said I'm one of the owners of this place?”
“That's what the warrant says.” He handed over the paperwork to Tanner. “That not accurate?”
Tanner shook his head as he looked through the legal gobbledygook in his hand. “No. I'm just listed as a manager.” He went to hand the warrant back to the detective.
The detective shook his head. “That's yours.”
No one outside the club would have known that he was a part-owner. Or, someone very close to the club. Something about this didn't make sense.
Roaming Wolves had to be behind this. But, why would the Wolves call the cops? The unspoken rule was that you never involved the cops on rivalries. Not like this. This was a cardinal sin, as far as Tanner was concerned.
But, who in the Wolves knew about his connection to the bar? He didn't know any of those guys. Maybe they'd gotten the info from Brendon?
But, no, that didn't seem right, either. Brendon had been gone for so long. He didn't know more about recent goings-on inside the club than any outsider would.
He peered back down at the warrant, at the accusations there.
One thing was for sure, though.
Whoever had given the cops the fake tip-off had just fucking declared war.