Chaos Bound (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #4)(63)

“I told you no story. You’re gonna get me kicked out of own f*cking club. Now sit the f*ck down so I can think.” He paced her living room as she settled on her couch. How could he get out of this? If Jagger kicked him out of the club, he wouldn’t have any support if he went after T-Rex, and what would he do without his brothers? Where would he go? The club was his goddamned f*cking life.

“James…”

“Don’t call me that,” he barked. “Name is Tank.” The name the club gave him when he’d earned the cut, not because he was built like one, which he was, but because he’d stolen a tank from an army base one night on a drunken dare from T-Rex just so they could take pictures of themselves in a tank. He’d taken a lot of heat from Jagger for his stupidity, but he wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything. He still had the selfie he took of him and T-Rex, leaning back on the tank, grins on their faces, beers raised in a “f*ck you” salute.

A selfie she had probably seen when she went through his phone. What else had she seen and how the hell had she unlocked it?

“Okay … Tank.” She crossed one leg over the other and her gown slid up revealing the creamy expanse of her thigh. Fuck, she had nice legs. And nice tits. But then he knew that about her ’cause he’d watched her that night T-Rex warned him away. He probably knew more than that about her, but damned if he could remember their night together.

“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with your club.” She loosened her belt, letting the gown fall to the sides of her hips. Now he could see her cleavage, the soft skin of her stomach, and … Fuck. Her * was bare. Tank bit back a groan. Nothing he liked better than smooth, soft, bare *.

“I didn’t disclose my source, and really, you didn’t give me the information. I deduced it. And I might be wrong. Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad, or a mafia hit, or even another club. If the Sinners weren’t involved then you have nothing to worry about.” She trailed her hand down her body, between her breasts, parting the white silk until she got to the juncture of her thighs. Her hand rested on her mound, her fingers dangling over what he most wanted to see, hiding it from his now throbbing cock.

Christ. She was like one of those mythical Sirens who lured sailors to their deaths. He couldn’t tell whether the pounding in his veins was fury or lust. No wonder T-Rex had warned him about her. And Banks. He had to get out, and yet he couldn’t look away. Something niggled at the back of his mind. A question. There was a question he wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

As if she could read his thoughts, she drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising, the silk slipping until he could just see the blush of a nipple. “I’m so sorry, Tank. Let me make it up to you.”

Tank swallowed hard. How long had it been since he’d had a woman—and remembered it? One? Two weeks? Maybe more. But tumbling a sweet butt in his bed was never the same as f*cking a woman he really wanted, a woman he had to work to get, a smart, classy woman the likes of whom never usually looked twice at a guy like Tank.

Unbidden, an image of Connie flitted through his mind. Connie was smart, too. She had a master’s degree in music. He’d thought she would be soft and sweet in bed, but she’d gone f*cking wild for him, clawing at his back, screaming his name. He’d never had that kind of sex with a woman. Hell, he’d never had that kind of connection. But Connie was gone, and Ella was here. Ella with her silky robe and her lush lips. Ella who had gone through his phone and put his club at risk. He couldn’t hurt her, but maybe she could pay him back another way. She was offering after all. His mind wandered, and his cock rose to follow.

“Tank.” She raised her voice, pulling him out of the beginning of a fantasy about the famous Ella Masters on her knees between his legs with her lips wrapped around his cock, wearing those damn glasses she wore on TV and nothing else.

“Yeah.” He grunted, not wanting to risk any telltale huskiness in his voice, although if she looked down, the boner straining against his fly would be a dead giveaway.

“I can do more for you than access police reports.” She pulled the belt on her robe, and the two sides parted, her perfect body on display.

His mind split in two, half of it focused on Ella, sitting half naked swathed in white silk, the other half focused on his club and what they would do to him when the ATF came beating down the club door wondering what the Sinners were doing in Still Water putting bullets into Leo’s brain.

“Don’t talk about the f*cking police. They’re gonna be all over the club ’cause of what you did.” He struggled to put his thoughts together. “What I told you about the gas station was between you and me. I didn’t say the Sinners were involved. If that was T-Rex and he offed Leo, he did it on his own and not as part of the club.”

“Don’t you get it?” She stood and the gown slid down her body and pooled at her feet. Christ, she looked like those marble statues he’d seen on TV—Greek goddesses with lush bodies and perfect faces, smooth skin, and bare pussies.

She walked toward him, her heavy breasts swaying, pink-tipped nipples hard and begging to be touched. “That little tidbit got me a boost up the rankings, which means I have more pull. I can stay on the story, and my boss is giving me more resources to investigate, resources I can use to help you. He’s even sending me to the bike rally on the weekend. I’d say that’s a win win for us all.” She stopped only a few inches away, slid her hands over his chest. “The Sinners are a powerful club. I’m sure they can handle the police.”