Star
The evening came on, and I was still unsure of what to think about my most recent night with Tank. That kiss lingered on my lips, and I knew that despite his protestations, he had been just as into it as I was. Could this be why he’d reacted so strongly to it? Because he’d felt himself letting go and falling into it, and the possibility scared him? I couldn’t tell a damn thing with Tank—he was the kind of guy who kept his emotions locked down tight. But I knew that he’d gotten bothered enough by something that he felt like he had to back off to collect himself.
Either way, and in spite of myself, I missed him. I knew it was the stupidest damn thing in the world to miss the man who’d bought me like a piece of meat, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. I was drawn to him in a way that I’d never been drawn to a man before, and part of me hoped that I’d hear him coming through the door, followed by him appearing at the threshold to my bedroom, a wild, savage look in his eyes as he got ready to claim my virginity for his own.
I shook these thoughts out of my mind, remembering the concept of Stockholm Syndrome that I’d learned about in high school. Apparently, when a person—usually a woman—was taken hostage, she could eventually, after a long enough period of captivity, begin to sympathize with her captor, even refusing to leave his company when the opportunity presented itself. This idea scared me—what if all that I’d been feeling about Tank was nothing more than some strange self-preservation process? What if my animal brain knew that going along with Tank was the best way to preserve myself in this bizarre situation?
But that didn’t seem right. The way Tank had responded to my kiss ... I just knew that there was something behind it—there were real feelings there. Fat chance of me getting Tank to admit that, however.
So I lounged around in bed, hoping that Tank would come back and say something, anything, to make me feel that things between us were okay. I sifted through the lingerie hanging in my walk-in closet, going over the items that had struck me as too risqué the first time I’d looked at them.
Who knows, I thought, dragging my fingertips over the light, thin material of the especially scandalous lingerie, maybe wearing something like this is how I get through to Tank.
But before I could consider the matter for too long, I heard a noise downstairs. It was a heavy thud, like someone dropping a bowling ball on a hardwood floor. I froze in place upon hearing the sound. It should’ve been Tank, but I’d never known him to make noises like that—he was typically pretty sure of his step.
I threw on a robe and walked carefully to the entrance to my bedroom, listening carefully for another noise. Standing there for a few minutes, I only heard silence. My heartrate began to slow, and I started to calm down.
Must’ve been nothing, I thought.
But before I finished turning back to my bedroom, I heard something else. This noise was more like a clatter, like someone had bumped into a table and knocked the things on top of it onto the ground. My eyes went wide and my heart began to race once again. Now I was sure that someone was here.
Is it Tank? I thought, stepping out into the hallway overlooking the first floor.
Like I said, he wasn’t what I would consider a klutz, but maybe he was drunk?
I walked carefully down the spiral stairs leading to the main entrance hall, hoping to catch a secret glimpse of whoever was making the racket. I made my way further and further down the stairs, keeping my ears open for anything. And as I reached the bottom, I heard what sounded like footsteps down the first-floor hallway, back near the lounge. Then, as I took a peek from behind one of the columns, I could see the fleeting silhouette of someone in the lounge.
My blood ran cold. There was someone there.
I looked carefully, seeing that whoever it was had the same large, muscular form of Tank, though perhaps not quite as big. But his hair wasn’t the close-shaved style of Tank. Who could this be?
A thought occurred to me: only a trusted associate of Tank would have the access codes to get past the extensive security of the house. So anyone here would have to be a close friend of his. I felt a little relief at this idea. Maybe Tank had just sent one of his MC men over here to pick up something. But still, why would he be sneaking around? And why wouldn’t Tank let me know that someone was coming?
I knew that I should’ve just run back up to my room and called Tank. After all, there was a reason that he’d only allowed my phone to dial his number. But I wasn’t into doing the smart thing at that moment in time. I inched closer to lounge, and now it was my turn to be a klutz. I bumped into one of the side tables, a decorative bowl toppling off the side and landing on the hard ground with a shrill crash.
I froze in place, knowing that there was no way that I hadn’t been heard. Sure enough, the form in the lounge stopped still for a moment before turning towards me. Then the form began walking out of the shadows and into the dim light of the hallway. Sure enough, it was a tall, beefy man in jeans and a leather vest, his face covered in a long, braided beard and his head topped with wild hair.
“There you are,” he said, now moving towards me.
I couldn’t bear to move.
“Wh-who are you?” I said, trying to make my voice sound demanding but my words instead coming out in a pathetic little squeak.
“I’m … ah, call me Cruiser.”
He continued towards me, his steps careful, as if he were trying to walk up to a frightened rabbit.
“What are you doing here?”
As he came closer I could see the Warhawks patch on his leather vest. He pointed to it as soon as he saw that I noticed it.
“Yeah, this is our logo,” he said. “That’s how you know I’m on the level.”
“Fine,” I said, calming down a little bit. “But that doesn’t answer the question of what you’re doing here.”
“Um, Tank sent me,” he said. “He told me to pick you up and take you to a club where we’re meeting tonight.”
Nothing about his statement rang true. Tank just sending a member of his MC over to pick me up and take me without any sort of notice … this didn’t sound like Tank at all. The skin on the back of my neck began to tingle, and my heart starting to pound again. My body was sending every warning it could that something strange was going on.
“I … that doesn’t sound right,” I said. “Let me call Tank … um, just to make sure.”
“No, no, no,” said Cruiser. “Tank’s, um, he’s busy. He’d just get mad if you called. Trust me on this—I’m his vice president.”
“I … don’t want to go,” I said. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“You have to,” he said, stepping closer. “Tank’s gonna be real pissed off at me and you both if you don’t come with me.
“No,” I said, trying my best to stand firm. “I’m not going anywhere until I hear it from Tank.”
A look of frustrated rage formed on Cruiser’s face, making his intentions clear. He continued to move towards me, and all I could do was make myself small as I scanned the nearby area for anything I could maybe use as a weapon. I knew right away that it was no use; Cruiser was twice my size and any attack would probably do nothing more than piss him off.
He got closer and closer, now looming over me.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said. “But you need to come with me.”
He reached down and wrapped his meaty fingers around my arm. Then, with a pull, he jerked me up off the floor. I was nearly delirious with fear at this point.
But before he could take me very far, the front doors of the house opened with a bang.
“Cruiser!” called out a familiar voice. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I turned in place and saw that Tank was standing in the outline of the open doors. Relief washed over me; I’d never thought I’d be so happy to see him.
“Tank!” stammered Cruiser, clearly knocked off his guard by Tank’s sudden appearance. “What’re you doing back here? You’re supposed to be in Orlando!”
“Don’t you fuckin’ worry about where I’m supposed to be,” said Tank, his voice dripping with anger. “I want you to tell me right fuckin’ now what you’re doing in my home, without my permission, with your hands on my woman.”
As strange as it sounds, all I could think about at that moment was Tank’s choice of words. He’d called me his “woman” rather than his “property.” Sick, I know, but hearing that made me feel … protected. Like he was watching out for me. I learned soon how true that was.
“Listen, Tank, you heard what Dakin said: if this arms deal is gonna go through then he needs the girl. I know she’s yours, but I’m not gonna let you jeopardize the MC by letting you hang onto her.”
Dakin! I thought. What the hell does that fucker have to do with this?
Tank moved closer, his footfalls heavy and sure.
“So, you thought you’d just … take the initiative. That you’d break into my home, steal my woman, and give her over to Dakin, all behind my back. Then … what? I’d thank you for doing the thing that I was too chickenshit to do?”
“No, Tank,” said Cruiser, fear creeping into his voice. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” he asked, venom in his words. “Tell me. I’m really curious.”
Cruiser’s grip tightened on me, and he puffed out his chest a bit. It seemed like he was becoming more certain of his actions.
“Maybe … maybe you’re not making the right call! Maybe if you’re gonna put your needs before the crews, then you’re not fit to lead this MC! I don’t care that you’re the founder; maybe it’s time for some new blood in charge!”
“You stupid motherfucker,” said Tank. “You think if I give her to Dakin that all’s gonna be good with him from then on out? No fuckin’ way. He’ll know that he can change terms whenever he wants. He’ll have the Warhawks right where he wants them.”
Cruiser appeared affected by this and opened his mouth to speak. But before he could get a single word out, Tank started talking again.
“But I’m more interested now in the other part of what you just said. New blood?”
My eyes turned to Cruiser, and I could see that he was now regretting his words. But I didn’t need to be a motorcycle club expert to know that challenging his leader like that had probably put him past the point of no return.
“Um, uh, yeah!” he said, trying to pump himself up.
“Well,” said Tank, squaring his shoulders and getting ready for a fight. “Then put her down and show me you’ve got what it takes.”
Cruiser let go of my arm and I ran to Tank’s side. He put his arm in front of me like a giant, muscular bar, making it clear that I was to stay back.
Cruiser squared up too, but I could see clearly that there was doubt in his movements. Still, I’d heard that a cornered animal could be deadlier than a confident one.
Tank closed the distance between him and Cruiser, and the men stared hard at each other for a brief moment. Then Cruiser made the first move. He pulled back and swung hard, his massive fist curving through the air. It looked like a blow that, if it connected with Tank, would’ve caused serious injury.
Thankfully, it didn’t come even close to that.
Tank ducked, and the wide arc of the punch curved over his head harmlessly. Cruiser looked to have put all his strength in the punch, and the momentum that hadn’t been discharged into Tank’s body caused him to stumble on his feet for a brief moment.
That was all Tank needed.
Tank rose back up to a straight posture and delivered a quick jab right to Cruiser’s nose. A flash of deep red blood appeared on his face instantly, and right then and there the fight was won. Tank took advantage of Cruiser’s dazed state and rushed in, grabbing his arm and forcing him into a grappling hold. Then he dropped down to the floor with him, Tank’s arm pressed against Cruiser’s neck. Cruiser struggled for a bit, but soon his eyes closed and seconds later he was out cold. Tank loosened his grip but still held him close to make sure the job was done. When he was satisfied that Cruiser wasn’t going to move, he pushed him aside and stood back up.
At that moment, I felt more terrified than I’d ever felt in my life.
“Is … is he dead?” I asked, afraid to ask the question for fear of the response.
“No,” said Tank. “But he’s out for now.”
Then he turned to me and looked hard into my eyes.
“Stay right there,” he said.
He moved to Cruiser, scooping him up off the ground and carrying him down the hall. He disappeared in one of the doors and appeared a minute or so later, shutting and locking the door behind him.
The emotions running through my body were like nothing I’d ever felt before. There was fear, sure, but there was … something else. Seeing Tank do what he did, all to protect me, had brought about a strange stirring in my heart. It was as though seeing how far he’d go to keep me safe made me feel as though right then, at that moment, I’d do anything for him.
And that must’ve been what he had in mind too because as soon as he shut the door he rushed down the hall towards me, taking me into his arms and planting on my lips a deep, hard kiss.