Chaos Bound (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #4)(55)
“Don’t remember much.” The cold bitter liquid slid over his tongue, grounding him in the moment, a contrast to the surreal feeling of waking up alone in an utterly pristine, ultra modern white room. At first he thought he’d died and gone to f*cking heaven, but T-Rex wasn’t there, and given all the bad shit he’d done in his life, he knew the place he was going would be colored red. And yet, it had to be hell, ’cause why didn’t he remember doing such a hot babe, why were his clothes still on, and why was he all alone?
Maybe that’s how it was with smart women. They didn’t get all emotional about sex. They were busy with their work, and although they enjoyed cutting loose, it didn’t mean they were looking for more than a good time. Although he didn’t know if she’d enjoyed their night together because he’d drunk himself into a f*cking coma.
“Well, at least you got away from Ella,” Banks said. “I heard some shit about her that would make even the toughest dude turn and run. She’s f*cking merciless when it comes to getting a story. There’s nothing she won’t do.”
“Yeah, lucky me.” He took another sip of his beer. If she was only after a story, why the hell did she invite him home after he’d made it clear he wasn’t about to share any information about the club? Had he missed something? He’d never been with a smart woman before. Maybe because smart women were attracted to smart men. Tank loved mechanics, tinkering with engines and machines, and fixing his bike, but he had no formal training or education. Sure he was loyal, strong, brave, and a damned good shot, but he had nothing to offer a woman like Ella.
Jagger joined them at the bar, and Banks poured him a shot of Scotch.
“Good to see you kicking back, brother.” Jagger lifted his glass to Tank. “These are hard times, and sometimes you gotta step back and have a bit of fun.” His glaze flicked to former Deputy Sherriff Benson, now a lowly prospect, wiping tables in the corner, and an evil smile spread across his face. “Prospect.” He waved Benson over, and Tank’s mood lifted as Benson hauled ass across the bar. He hoped Jagger kept Benson as a permanent prospect. There was nothing as entertaining as watching the former Deputy Sheriff doing all the grunt work for the club when only three months earlier he had the power to lock them up.
“Sir.” Benson pressed his lips together in grim anticipation of the humiliating task Jagger had in store for him.
“Hold the bottle. Fill my glass—” Jagger cut himself off and frowned. “Why did Gunner let that girl into the bar? No way is she legal.”
Tank looked up as Gunner led a pretty, young blonde with fire-red nails through the bar. He figured she was eighteen at the most, but her eyes suggested someone much older.
“What the f*ck?” Banks grumbled. “I’m gonna be f*cking shut down before I get this place going.”
“Girl’s looking for Benson.” Gunner gave her a gentle shove in Benson’s direction. “Here he is but he’s not Deputy Sheriff anymore. Now he’s our slave.”
Jagger lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you were the type to go for teenagers, prospect.”
“I’m not,” Benson said. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
Tank joined in the raucous laughter. How many times had women come to the club or the bar and a brother threw out that line? Hell, even he and T-Rex had used it a couple of times when a few skanky bitches tracked them down after a wild night.
“What do you want with our prospect, sweetheart?” Jagger finished his drink and nodded at Banks to pour him another.
“I met a guy in Missoula.” She stared at the floor, twisted her hands as she talked. “He … rescued me from a bad situation and told me to come to Conundrum and look up Deputy Sheriff Benson. I was supposed to ask him to take me to the Sinners. I went to the address he wrote down, but when I got to the police station, they got angry and told me I’d probably find him here.”
“Well you’ve found him.” Benson pointed to his chest. “But what business do you have with the Sinners?”
Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “He said I should ask for Tank, and he would hook me up at the club.”
“He knew Tank?” Jagger turned his full attention to the girl. “Did he tell you who he was?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t know much about him. He was about his height.” She pointed at Tank. “But a lot thinner. Long, blond hair. He was wearing a shirt with a beaver on it.”
Tank’s heart skipped a beat. “Dark blue? Yellow beaver?”
“Yeah. I think so,” she said. “I mean it was kinda dark when I met him, and I wasn’t paying much attention. He had a kick-ass bike though. It was huge. All chromed up. I think it was green.”
“It’s him. It’s T-Rex.” Tank’s body shook as if he’d just been shot with adrenaline. “Fuck. Jagger. That was him I saw in Still Water. Same bike. Same shirt. Same description. He knew my name.” He grabbed Jagger’s cut in his fist. “He thought Benson was still a Deputy.”
“Tank.” Jagger’s voice was low with warning. “Hand.”
Tank jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. “It sounds like T-Rex. He’s got a big heart. This is exactly the kind of thing he would do. We gotta go get him, Jag. Now. We need to send a team to Missoula…”