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“It wasn’t any of my doing. Boiler started it. And he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the truce.”
Rage crossed her arms. “And that’s my doing? Is that what you have issue with?”
I wasn’t about to get into a fight with my president. Shrugging, I lifted my eyes to her. “I didn’t start the fight, but I should’ve, I was about to. I guess we need to put the word out if they don’t show, we’ll beat on their asses again.”
“Alright, leaving it up to you to take care of it. Run’s next week and we’d better not have lost anyone.”
Chapter 5
Tank
The next day started like any other. I woke up early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. My black leather cut was slung over a chair, a reminder of the chaos from the night before. I stretched, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles, and headed to the kitchen for coffee. The strong brew was my lifeline, kicking me into gear for the day ahead.
After a quick breakfast, I hopped on my Harley and headed to work. The ride through the quiet streets was a perfect way to clear my head, the roar of my engine drowning out any lingering doubts or regrets from the previous night.
Doghouse Delights was my sanctuary, my little slice of peace in a world of chaos. The shop was a blend of rustic charm and biker edge, with wooden shelves lined with jars of treats and the walls adorned with black-and-white photos of dogs and bikers alike. I loved the juxtaposition of soft and hard, just like my life.
As I opened the door and turned the sign to "Open," I let out a long exhale, ready for the day ahead. Regulars and their furry friends started trickling in, and I greeted them with my usual gruff friendliness.
"Hey, Mrs. Thompson, how's Baxter today?" I asked, handing over a bag of biscuits to an elderly woman and her fluffy Pomeranian.
"He's great, Tank. Thanks for asking," she replied with a warm smile.
I inhaled deeply, loving that the clientele called me by my road name. It was a reminder of who I had become, of the strength I had found within myself. The day passed in a blur of barking dogs, ringing cash registers, and the scent of freshly baked treats. Despite all the craziness, I couldn't get the bar fight and Boiler's fierce protection out of my head. I shook my head, trying to focus. I had sworn off relationships, especially with bikers from rival clubs. But Boiler had gotten under my skin in a way I couldn't ignore.
As evening approached, I closed up shop and headed home for a quick shower and a change of clothes. The Roost was calling to me. Perhaps it was the thrill of the previous night, or maybe it was the lingering thought of Boiler, but I needed to be there.
The bar was already thumping when I arrived. The familiar scent of beer and leather filled the air as I pushed through the door. My sisters were scattered around, laughing and chatting. Razor was at the pool table, her sharp eyes watching every move. Pixie was behind the bar, mixing drinks with her usual flair. Rage was in a corner booth, deep in conversation with her man Mud who showed up sporadically.
I grabbed a beer and found a spot at the bar, my eyes scanning the room. Part of me hoped Boiler would walk through the door, even though I knew it was unlikely. The fragile truce between the Hell on Heelz and the Slayers meant we had to tread carefully, but that didn't stop my mind from wandering.
Pixie slid a shot of whiskey in front of me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "On the house. You look like you could use it."
I smirked, raising the glass. "Thanks, Pix."
She leaned on the bar, her gaze searching mine. "You okay, Tank? You seem... distracted."
Shrugging, I tried to play it cool. "Just thinking about last night. There’s always a guy treating me like nothing but a piece of ass. Glad Boiler put him in his place."
Pixie raised her pierced eyebrow. "And you're hoping to see him again, aren't you?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't hide the truth. "Maybe. He’s a good fighter, I’ll give him that."
She laughed, shaking her head. "You're a tough nut to crack, Tank."
“Yeah, I know. I’m tough. I get it.”
Pixie frowned, leaning in closer. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re real sweet, too. When you wanna be.”
I scoffed, trying to hide the blush creeping up my neck. "Don't go spreading that around. I've got a reputation to uphold."
The night wore on, the club filled with laughter and music. I found myself glancing at the door more often than I cared to admit, each time hoping to see Boiler’s rugged face. I wasn't used to feeling this way, all vulnerable and shit.
Rage sauntered over, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You keep looking at that door like you’re expecting someone.”
Lifting my shoulder, I tried to play it off. “Just on edge, I guess. Lot of changes happening with this truce.”
She nodded, understanding. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in. But we’re strong. We’ll make it work.”
