Tank's Property(15)

Fuck.

He was out to his seat and crouched in front of her. Grabbing the chair and pulling it out and to the side, he cupped each side of her face and forced her to look at him. Touching her had electricity moving through him, and the urge to kiss her, to make her feel better, was strong, but this wasn’t about that.

“Bunny, everything will be okay. I promise.”

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks now. “I have no place else to go, Brendan. I am barely making enough to stay in this shithole, and I can’t go back to where I was living because I lost my job and my landlord kicked me out. I’m stuck here.” She chuckled humorlessly. “Maybe it was always supposed to be this way.”

He smoothed his fingers over her cheeks, liking that she wasn’t pushing him away. “What do you mean, baby?”

She closed her eyes and did push him away this time. “Maybe I was supposed to be born in this fucking place and die here, as well.”

He stood, anger filling him that she was in this situation, that she thought this about herself, about her life. She was over by the sink now, her back toward him, her shoulders hunched in defeat. He went up to her, grabbed her shoulders, and turned her around. She craned her neck back to look at him.

“You’re not going to die, Bunny, no fucking way. I came here to tell you I want you at the club. I want to protect you, Bunny.”

She shook her head, but it didn’t look like she was saying no to the idea. “Brendan, so much time has passed,” she whispered. “I left you, ran…”

He moved his thumbs under her eyes, wiping her tears away. “None of that matters, Bunny. The only thing I care about right now is making sure you’re safe.”

Although they would be talking about the past and them at some point very soon. He hadn’t wanted her to leave then, and after seeing her now, even after so much time had passed, he wanted her more than ever.





Chapter Seven



Bunny couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go with Brendan—or Tank, as he was apparently called now. The hours long drive from Thorne to River Run was done mostly in silence, but she’d slept off and on, thankful for that small window where she didn’t have to pretend like the past didn’t matter.

It did. It always has.

“Let me take that,” Tank said, and grabbed her bag before she could say no. He was walking in front of her toward the club, periodically looking over his shoulder at her. She was nervous, sure, but what was kind of fucked up was the fact she was more nervous about being here with Tank after so long, than about the threat he said she could face.

He held the door open for her, and the music came through instantly. Smiling at him, which felt forced, she moved inside. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lighting in the club, but when it did she saw a lot of half naked women and bikers. Some were playing pool or cards, but several were sitting on the other side of the room watching a woman grind and move on a pole.

A stripper’s pole? Seriously?

She looked at Tank, and the way he shrugged told her he’d read her expression well enough.

“Come on, I’ll get you set up someplace quiet.”

She followed him past everyone, and noticed a few of the guys looking at her, their expressions hard, unforgiving. Tank led her into a room in the back of the building, set her bag on the bed, and stood there for a second.

“Listen, I know this whole situation is pretty fucked up,” he said and looked at her, his expression just as hard as those men out in the other room.

Brendan was the same man she’d cared about all those years ago, but he was also different. Which was honestly kind of frightening because back in the back he was pretty scary, tough, and never put up with shit. But now… She shook her head as she looked at Tank, saw the way he was bigger, scarier, if that were even possible. Tank was something altogether different.

“I’ll let you get settled, and have something brought up to you to eat. It was a long drive, and I’m sure you’re hungry and tired.” He turned to leave, but Bunny found herself taking a step toward him and calling out.

“Tank?” God, it sounds so weird calling him that. “It’s weird calling you that name,” she said and laughed, but it was strained, tight.

“You call me whatever you feel comfortable with, Bunny.”

Even hearing him say her name all these years later had this chill racing up her spine. It felt good, familiar.

She nodded, twisted her hands together, and knew if they were going to be here for an undetermined amount of time, things were going to get brought up, memories and the past that she’d tried to bury because she felt an array of emotions.