Chapter Eight
Tank
He knew the moment she walked back into the bar. He could feel himself being drawn to her. When he saw her following Reaper towards his office, he knew she had figured out that something was going on. He wanted to follow, but the bar was too busy. This was one of those moments that he wished he’d taken Sarah’s advice and hired another bartender.
Glancing over as they walked past, he could see the nervousness in her eyes, in the way she held herself rigid.
“Hey!” Tank called, drawing her attention.
“Hey,” Sapphire said as she pulled out a barstool and sat across from him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“As okay as I ever will be with all this shit,” she sighed.
“It’ll be okay,” Tank offered.
“I don’t know,” Sapphire said shaking her head. “Something feels off. Like a knot in the pit of my stomach that just won’t go away. I keep thinking I need to call my mom, but I know Pope wouldn’t appreciate the concern. She would probably tell me to get a grip.”
“Here,” Tank said, handing her a scotch and coke. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
“Thanks,” Sapphire smiled. “But I don’t think this is exactly what I need.”
“Well,” Tank grinned. “I could offer you more but it will have to wait until after the bar closes for the night.”
Tank’s grin spread across his face as Sapphire’s head tipped back as she laughed. It wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for, but he’d take it.
They spent the next couple of hours talking about random things — favorite songs, foods, places they had visited. The conversation flowed easily and as the minutes ticked by, Tank could see the tension leaving Sapphire’s body. However, the peace was soon shattered by the commotion near the Henchmen’s tables.
“What the hell is going on?” Sapphire asked out loud.
“I don’t know,” Tank replied. “But I’m about to find out.”
Tank moved out from behind the bar, his long stride quickly eating up the distance between himself and the rest of the guys.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he neared.
Sledge was on the phone barking orders while Reaper paced the floor in front of him. Tension was rolling off the two men in waves. It was literally a tangible thing pulsing throughout the group.
“Devin received a call from someone with the Iron Angels,” Beth answered when nobody else had said a word. “Apparently, intel was wrong. The cartel showed up there. All of them.”
“What?” Sapphire shouted.
Tank turned to see her standing behind him. He watched as the color started to drain from her face and involuntary shakes took over her body. Moving to stand near her, Sapphire pushed Tank’s arm away and walked towards Sledge.
“What the fuck happened?” she demanded. “And why in the universal of fucks did they call you and not me?”
“Calm yourself,” Reaper replied.
“Fuck calm!” Sapphire shouted. “That’s my family. If you can’t understand that, then fuck you, too!”
Tank knew things were about to get chaotic. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was only about an hour until closing. Thinking fast, he found Sarah and told her to start helping him get people out of the club. Whatever happened in Houston tonight would cause a monsoon to roll through The Brickyard and his customers did not need to be involved. Working quickly, Tank and Sarah managed to clear the bar in thirty minutes despite the grumbles from some that it was too soon.
“You can go ahead and head out,” Tank told Sarah as the last patron walked out the door.
“You don’t need any help cleaning?” she asked.
“Nah, the guys can help.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “Have a good night.”
Locking the door behind her, Tank walked back over to the group and to his total shock, Sapphire was wrapped in Reaper’s arms. Waves of anger and jealousy coursed through him. Sapphire was his woman. Well, she would be if shit ever went right.
“Now, what the fuck happened?” He demanded.
“The Angels were ambushed. The entire cartel showed up on their doorstep,” Sledge replied, leaning against the table, head hanging.
“And?” Dread filled Tank to his very soul. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Pope Kimber was killed,” Sledge answered.
Oh fuck!
Looking to Sapphire for confirmation, Tank found nothing. She was completely blank. No emotion shown in her eyes as she pulled out of Reaper’s embrace.
He wanted to say something, but what could he tell her? Sorry about your mom sounded so stupid, even in his head. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to be the person she leaned on, but looking at her now Tank knew Sapphire needed none of that. Right now, she was lost within herself. He knew that feeling, too. When his wife and unborn child died, he felt the same way. Dead.
“We need to head to Houston,” Diesel finally broke the silence. “We need to find these motherfuckers and take them out. Slowly.”
“Painfully,” Weasel added.
“We’re not going to Houston,” Sledge announced.
“What?” Tank asked. “Why the fuck not?”
“Think about it,” Sledge said, finally looking at the group. “We were given intel that said the largest faction would be here. We were lied to. Something tells me that was intentional. We need to find out why before we go in all Rambo style.”
“Not to mention, the cartel is already gone. Those that made it out alive have scattered like rats. We need to wait until they regather. Then we plot and attack,” Reaper said to the group earning several head nods.
Tank watched as the first sign of life came back to Sapphire as she walked away from the group and over to the bar. He knew where she was going and as much as it killed him knowing that she would never find what she was currently looking for — he let her remove the bottle from the shelve, twist off the top, and gulp down the burning liquid.
“Everyone to the compound,” Sledge ordered. “Diesel, I want y’all there too until this is all handled.”
“Gotcha,” Diesel replied.
“Weasel, follow D to his house and stand watch. I don’t want anyone to go anywhere alone.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Weasel replied.
“Sapphire, let’s go,” Diesel called.
“I’m not going,” Sapphire finally spoke.
“What?” Diesel asked. “Of course you are.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Steph,” Reaper warned. “You’re not going back to Houston. So get that thought out of your head. You can’t fight this alone.”
“I’m not going back,” Sapphire said, taking another swig. “Yet.”
“She can stay here tonight,” Tank offered.
“No,” Sledge replied. “She needs to come back to the compound.”
“What fucking part of...” Sapphire started, but Tank quickly interrupted.
“She’ll be fine here,” Tank said. “Plus, after she finishes off that bottle of tequila, I doubt she’ll go anywhere.”
Tank could tell that Sledge was struggling. The man was really a great guy. He cared about his crew, probably more than he should. Sledge took his responsibility for the Henchmen seriously. Sometimes, a little too seriously. But as President of the club, Sledge had a lot on his shoulders. Now add the attack against the Angels to his plate, and Tank could understand Sledge’s need to keep everyone close and safe.
“Fine,” Sledge sighed. “It’s not like I can give her orders anyway.”
“Well, you could,” Tank grinned.
“But she’d tell you to go fuck yourself,” Sapphire called over her shoulder, taking another swig.
“Right,” Sledge sighed, shaking his head. “Alright. Let’s go.”
Tank waited until everyone left before he closed and locked the door. Making his way over to the bar, he sat quietly on the stool. Not wanting to push, he waited until Sapphire was ready to talk.