Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(106)

“So you, um… don’t do anything illegal?”

He held my eyes.

Then he said quietly, “I didn’t say that.”

Oh boy.

Tack rolled again so I was on the bottom and he was looming over me.

Then he explained and he did gentle-like so I knew I was in for even more.

“We do what we gotta do to protect what’s ours and what we do might be frowned on in the eyes of the law. Case in point, there’s a twenty-three year old motherf*cker who’ll think twice before he moves on another sixteen year old girl and definitely he won’t raise a hand to a woman. And he ain’t breathin’ easy and without pain learning that lesson because of you slappin’ him and unmannin’ him. He’s doin’ it ‘cause once you were gone, me and the boys finished the job.”

I figured they’d kept up with my lessons after I left so I nodded.

Tack went on.

“We also do what we wanna do to enjoy our lives and, you seen it, that includes shit like smokin’ pot. We got beefs with other Clubs or out in the world, we deal and that shit can turn bad. And a five mile perimeter around any Ride store is free of drugs and hookers. We parole it and if there’s a dealer or bitch on our turf, we don’t call the cops but we do take measures to remove them.”

Oh boy.

Tack kept going.

“But Ride’s books are clean and that means squeaky. We don’t transport drugs. We don’t offer enforcement. We don’t sell tail. We don’t sell guns. We build cars and sell auto supplies.”

“Sell tail?” I squeaked and Tack kept holding my eyes when he replied, “I told you that path was dark.”

Holy crap!

“So, uh… now you aren’t drug transporters, pimps and gun runners, you’re mechanics, hell raisers and kind of vigilantes?”

“Yeah.”

“But you were all that,” I whispered and Tack kept right on holding my eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You,” I pressed.

“Me,” he answered immediately.

Oh boy.

“Babe, my scope was Ride and the garage. This does not mean I didn’t get pulled into that shit. I did. And as a brother, I did my bit. And it took a long f**kin’ time but I did more than my bit to pull all of us out.”

“Okay,” I said softly. “So this was why I got all those ‘laters’? Because you weren’t fired up to share all of this?”

“This was why,” he confirmed.

I pulled in breath through my nose.

Before I could process any of what he said much less come to terms with it, Tack stated, “Love and redemption.”

My head tipped on the pillow. “What?”

“That movie you made me watch, first time at your house. Love and redemption. You said, ‘the most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take’. You said that, Red. Right out. And I knew if you got that, when it was later and I shared my shit with you, you’d get me. I never thought my story was beautiful. I thought it was shit. But you said that and when you did, I saw it. The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who’s got my back and enough to her that she’ll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I’d find my way to beauty eventually. And I’d find absolution because I’d know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who’s got so much to her it’ll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward.”

Ohmigod.

Ohmigod!

Ohmigod!

Did he just say that?

Did. He. Just. Say that?

“And you told me,” Tack continued, his face coming closer, “I had that when I first met you.”

“I –”

“So I was hooked to that shit, I did it, I participated in it, I was loyal to my brothers as I’d vowed I’d be and I pulled me and my Club out of it. I did that but that didn’t erase what we did. You are my absolution.”

Oh.

My.

God.

Now did he just say that?

“Tack –”

“And no way in f**k I’m gonna get in a stupid-ass fight with my woman, find out hours later some ass**le took his hand to my daughter, justifiably lose it and then watch the woman I been waitin’ for walk out my door.”

Oh God.

He said that. All of it.

“Tack, honey, I –”

“I get pissed, babe, wait it out or give it as good as you get,” he declared.

“But –”

“I say somethin’ stupid when I’m pissed, like you don’t have a say with my kids when you’re practically livin’ with them and definitely you’re a fixture in my life, you tell me to go f**k myself.”

“Well, I –”

“You got somethin’ to say, say it. You’re pissed, let it all hang out. You got an opinion, share it. What you don’t do is get scared of me and what you don’t do, ever, is walk out on us.”

I shut my mouth.

Tack waited.

I kept my mouth shut.

Tack didn’t.

“Am I clear?”

“Mostly,” I answered.

His eyes narrowed. “What’s not clear?”