Tank

4 - Who's the chick?

Tank

“Who’s the chick, and how the hell did she get in here?” I ask Jett.

The brunette that’s just walked into the bar of our clubhouse is beyond fuckin’ hot. I haven’t seen an ass that hot in many a year. She’s got a body like an hourglass. She’s beautiful in every sense of the word. So fuckin’ perfect. God, what I wouldn’t do for an hour with that.

And again, I’m thinking about things I shouldn’t. I don't even know the girl, and I already imagine what she’d look like with my kid in her belly.

How utterly fuckin’ ridiculous is that?

Fuc.k. I’ve got serious fuckin’ issues.

However, aside from that, the point is that no one is supposed to be able to gain entrance to our clubhouse without going through one of its patched members first. Fucke.r operating the gate let her in because she’s a hot piece of ass! I’ll kill the little fucke.r.

“No idea, but she’s fuckin’ hot.” Hot is an understatement.

I watch her walking toward the bar, her ass snug in her tight jeans. She’s wearing a leather jacket. She could almost pass for a biker chick. Almost. If it weren’t for the fact it’s so very obvious, she’s a whor.e, she’d almost pass.

Is she a whor.e here looking to get in on the action?

Or is she something else?

I don’t like to judge a woman without knowing her, but women only come here to be part of the clique of whore.s we keep around here. She’ll be one every guy here will be fighting over. Just like the little slut from last night.

I watch Tammy, our bartender, Red’s old lady, and the woman in charge of the girls here and over at our strip joint, Pretty Puss.y, point over to where Jett and I are drinking at a table to the left of the bar.

The girl’s eyes lock with mine, and a smirk creeps across her face. She likes what she sees. I most definitely like what I see. I’m a fuckin’ magnet for the new girls, and I don’t mind breaking them in, let me tell you.

“She’s comin’ over.” Jett’s right, she is.

I wonder what a girl like her is doing in a place like this. If she were here to join the whore.s, she’d be talking to Tammy, not walking over to Jett and me like she owns the world. She has a lot of confidence; I can tell by the way she’s practically gliding over to us.

I love a girl with confidence. I can tell by how she’s walking that she’d be dynamite in the bedroom. She’d keep me on my fuckin’ toes out of it as well, I can tell.

“Dude, I’m calling dibs.”

“What are you, twelve?” I whisper-hiss in Jett’s direction. Fuckin’ idio.t.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the girl over there told me that I’m in the right place to find the Snakes Henchmen– well, obviously, as this is your clubhouse – and that you guys are part of the MC.” Her eyes linger on my patch, the entwined snakes with the diamond eyes and pistol smoke rising from their mouths.

“That depends on who’s asking?” Jett says.

“I think it’s pretty obvious from your patches that you’re definitely part of this club. I’m looking for your President.”

“For?” I ask while leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. Her eyes widen a little at the size of my biceps. I get that reaction a lot from women, even more so when they see the size of my dic.k.

“It’s private.”

“Can’t help you, darlin’,” Jett says with a smirk on his face. “No one gets near the Prez without my say-so. Although,” He snakes his hand up the back of her leg, “I could be persuaded to help.”

“You have exactly two seconds to take your filthy biker hands off me before I break your fuckin.g neck!”

I have to stifle the laughter trying to erupt from me. No one speaks to Jett that way. No one. Not if they want to live, at least. This woman has balls; I’ll give her that. She’s probably terrified right now, but I have to hand it to her, walking in here and standing up for herself. She has no clue what kind of men we really are. For all she knew, Jett could have been the kind of man who’d smack her around and teach her a lesson.

He's not. Luckily for her.

She’s a fiery one. I like it. God, I’ve been waiting for a woman like her to walk in this place for years.

Jett holds up his hands, a smirk on his face. “Feisty. I like it.”

“I just need to know if Shepard is here or if he’ll be in soon?”

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell us what you want with Shepard?” I watch her eyeballing Jett. She doesn’t trust him. She’s right not to. He’s a good man but a dangerous one. Not that he’d hurt a woman. None of us would. That’s not what this MC is about. We have rules we live by. Never hurt women, children, or the innocent. But Jett has issues thanks to his birth mother and how she left him when he was a kid. “I’m Jett, and this is Tank.” He points to me.

“And you are?” I ask when she fails to say anything.

She doesn’t answer me; she turns to Jett, her eyes widening in realization. “You’re Shepard’s son, aren’t you?” He narrows his eyes at her. Okay, the girl is a stranger, but everyone knows Jett is Shepard’s son. Our VP. He shouldn’t be surprised. “You’re Tate, aren’t you?”

Okay, that she shouldn’t know. Both Jett’s and my eyes bug out. No one calls Jett by his given name. No one has since he was fourteen. Hell, I don’t think there’s more than a handful of people outside this club who know his given name.

Jett gets to his feet. Gorgeous girl swallows visibly. Jett is six-foot-three and built like a brick shi.t house. Any woman would be intimated. Hell, most men are.

Is she actually insane?

“Who the fuc.k are you?” Jett’s voice is menacing, but before the girl has the chance to answer him, he grabs her arm and drags her to the back office. She hasn’t said one word in protest, but it doesn’t stop me from following them as quickly as I can. Jett would never hurt a woman, but it won’t stop him from putting the pressure on when he wants information.

Jett roughly pushes the girl into the office. I step inside and close the door. Either the girl is crazy, or she's been through all of this before because she doesn’t look at all scared of either of us. When two huge ass bikers are staring you down, you don’t just stand there with a raised eyebrow like you don’t give a damn if they shoot you right now.

Crazy girl.

“Now tell me how the fuc.k you know my name!” He bellows. She folds her arms around herself. “You gonna answer me?”

“Are you always this angry?”

“Listen to me, you little bitc.h!” She laughs at him. Actually laughs! “Why you...”

He takes a step forward, and I take one toward him, pressing my hand against his chest. “Calm down. She’s a woman.”

“A woman with a big fuckin’ mouth and too much information! Fuc.k this,” I don’t get to say anything before he pulls out his cell. I’ll wager he’s calling Shepard, and from the heated discussion, I know I’m right.

“Do you want to tell me how you know who he is before you’re interrogated?”

“Nope.”

“It would be better for you if you did.”

“I’m not scared of either of you. I’ve been around this kind of thing my whole life. Do what you want.”

Yeah, she’s fuckin’ crazy.

“Be that as it may, you’re a young woman all alone in a place you have no business being.”

She turns to look at me with a massive smirk on her face. God, those eyes of hers, so deep blue I could drown in them. She’s nothing special; I’m attracted to most women. I’ll fuc.k each and every one of them if they want it. Only if they want it.

However, this girl, I don’t know, there’s something about her that I can’t seem to put my finger on. Just looking at her has my dic.k stirring in my pants like never before.

Okay, so she’s kinda special.

I think the fact she’s not scared of us is a huge turn-on for me. Scaring women doesn’t do it for me at all, not like those damn Devil’s Hornet pricks.

I feel something when I look at her, something I’ve never felt looking at any other woman.

Is she the girl I’ve been waiting for?

“Don’t worry, poster boy; I can handle myself. Believe me, I can.”

I bet you can, little lady.