Tank's Property(20)

He continued to stare at the wall, pushing the good people in his life out of his mind and focused on the piece of shit motherfucker he’d be going after. There were five of the MC Patches that would be heading out handle Spike. After they got word Spike left they’d had a prospect following him, to see what the prick was up to. But the prospect had lost Spike’s tail, and because of that they couldn’t wait around. They’d go to Thorne and handle this, which is what they should have done from the beginning.

Tank just knew that once this situation was taken care of, he’d need to let Bunny know he couldn’t let her go again. She’d come back into his life, maybe not because of the best circumstances, but she was here, and he’d make sure it stayed that way. His life felt too out of control without her standing beside him, being his woman, his old lady. Although he’d always felt that way, having her with him again just cemented that fact.

He knew all of this just as surely as he knew he’d be taking Spike’s life for the shit he’d done.

****

Making her way forward, Bunny curled her hand into a fist, about to bring her knuckles down on the door. But a heavy sound came through the other side of the wood. Knocking on the door, she waited a second, but when no one answered she gripped the handle and turned it before pushing the door open. The first thing she saw was the bed, but when she pushed the door open a little further she saw Tank sitting at a fold-out table, his shirtless back toward her, his tattoos on display. From the angle she could see the parts of a gun on the top of the table.

Swallowing past the nervousness, she knocked on his door harder this time even though she was already in his room. He turned just his head and looked over his shoulder at her, and that’s when she saw the earbuds he sported. He pulled them free and stood instantly, turning to face her, and the front of his chest having her throat tighten and her mouth dry.

There was a moment of silence before she found the courage to speak.

“Can we talk?”

He gave one nod, and pulled the chair he’d been sitting on out for her. She glanced at the table again and saw the pieces of the gun and oil and a rag beside them.

She was the one to shut the door, because what they were going to talk about was personal. When she was sitting in the chair he grabbed a shirt and was about to put it on, but she started speaking again.

“You don’t have to put a shirt on because I’m here. I’ve seen you naked, Tank.” After those words came out of her mouth she felt her face heat.

God, I really just said that.

She cleared her throat and ran her hands over her legs again, realizing she needed to control her nerves.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

It was kind of strange seeing a man like Tank, a man that was as tall as he was muscular, with tattoos and in a biker club, not want to make her uncomfortable. He was being genuine and sincere, and even if he’d changed, had gotten bigger, scarier even, he was still full of heart.

But is he?

“Bunny?” He said her name in that deep voice of his, the one that she had imagined many times over when she’d been away.

Clearing her head she looked at him, realizing she had responded to the statement he’d said.

“You couldn’t ever make me feel uncomfortable.” And it was the truth.

She let her gaze travel over his chest. The Brothers of Menace patch tattoo was inked on one of his pectoral muscles, the patch the only color amongst all the other black tattoos on his chest and arms. A part of her that had been lost, or at least she thought it had been, grew warm at the sight of him standing before her. He was so big compared to her, and although she had never considered herself a tiny thing, compared to him she felt just like that.

I’ve always felt like that with him, and so much more.

They stared at each other for a long second, and he finally sat down beside her on the bed. She didn’t know what to say, although the words played through her head.

“What did you want to talk about?”

She breathed out slowly and looked down at the ground. She was shoeless, and her toes peeked out from the extra material of the sweatpants. “I want to talk about the past, Tank.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “I want to talk about us, and explain why I ran. You deserve at least that.” She shook her head. “You deserve so much more than what I gave you.”

She could see his hands were in tight fists on his thighs, his whole body tense.

“We don’t have to talk about that now.”

She nodded. “We do, because it’s been on my mind and conscience this whole time.” She licked her lips, glanced around his room, and then focused on him again. “I just wanted to clear the air and get closure. I know you’ve probably moved on, and rightly so—”