Tank's Property(7)

By: Jenika Snow


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Tank grabbed the bottle of whisky and headed out of the kitchen and down the hall. He stopped for a second by his bedroom door where Lila and Faye were sleeping, and placed a hand on door, closing his eyes and hating that his little sister and niece had to go through with this. He took a step back and brought the bottle of his mouth, taking a long drink and staring at that wood, knowing whom he’d have to call, how he’d need to make this right. Even if this was just about Lila and Faye he’d lay his life down to make sure they were protected, do everything in his power to keep them safe.

But Bunny might be in trouble. I can’t leave her to the wolves.

He turned from the door and stepped into the spare bedroom. The room was used mainly for storage, but he did have an old as fuck couch pushed up against the wall, and being locked away in these four walls while he called Wrath would make him feel better. Lila might know he was calling the man they’d grown up around, but he needed to feel that suffocation, if only for a moment.

Sitting on the couch and relaxing against it, he rested his head on the back of it and kicked out his legs. For a second he just stared at the closed bedroom door, his cell feeling heavy as hell in his hand, the bottle sitting between his legs, and his thoughts rushing through his mind.

Fucking hell.

He hadn’t seen Bunny in years, just as long as he’d been away from Wrath, but Tank thought about her every fucking day. He didn’t know if he believed in soul mates, or shit like that, but if he did Bunny would have been it for him. He fucking loved her, had been so in love with her nothing else had mattered. She’d been his world, and when she left it was like a piece of him had been ripped away.

But whatever had gone through her head back then to have her leave him in that bed alone after he fucked her, was something he’d never been able to forgive. It had been shitty, cowardly, and he’d pushed her aside in his life. If she wanted to kick him out of her life, he had been more than willing to step away.

“I love you, Bunny. I fucking love you, and I won’t let you go.”

The last words he’d whispered against Bunny’s ear played through his head. He knew her past. It had been more fucked up than his, and he knew saying those three words could trigger something in her, something she was afraid of. But he’d been so in the moment, wanting to get those emotions out because he’d never felt them so strongly before, and he’d said the one thing that had ruined everything.

And you let her go. You didn’t chase after her, tell her she’s meant to be yours.

No, he didn’t, because he knew Bunny enough to know her leaving had been her way of saying she couldn’t do this, and he wasn’t about to push her more than he had.

Tank closed his eyes and ran a hand over them, feeling so fucking tired all of a sudden. Over the years he might have said he didn’t know why Bunny would just up and leave him after they’d fucked, just leave him sleeping on that small mattress on the floor, the bedroom bare but for that item, but the scent of what they’d done filling the room. But he knew why she’d left.

Maybe he’d scared her, crossed a line, or even gone too fast with that love bullshit, shouldn’t have ever said those words, even if he thought she’d been sleeping.

“Fuck,” he whispered out and looked down at his cell. He needed to call Wrath, to get this all in motion. He’d also let the club know, because the more men he had behind him the better chances he’d have at fully taking down that Spike fucker and anyone that worked under him. This was about Faye and Lila’s safety, but it was also about making sure Bunny was protected, and any women that Spike and his group had there against their will. He’d have to get his men to extract those women, but when it came to getting Bunny and bringing her to the club, because that’s where he could watch her, make sure she was safe until this was all done, he’d be the one to get her. He had to be the one to go to her.





Chapter Three



The scent of the kine bud filled the room, and Wrath leaned back in his chair, inhaling deeply. There were two tables set up in this space, all covered with green, and bodies he’d hired to separate and bag for distribution. He picked up his joint and brought the lighter to the end, casting flame on the paper and inhaling deeply. He took the smoke into his lungs, scanning the room. Although he had people working for him on some pretty illegal shit, that didn’t mean Wrath trusted any of these motherfuckers.

There were men with semi-automatic rifles stationed all around the room, and in the lab down the hall there were more. He wasn’t into cameras, didn’t want shit recorded for obvious reasons, but he also needed to make sure his product was safe. That was his focus, his priority. The bastards cooking his meth and cutting the green were getting paid to work for him, and once he was done they got the fuck out.

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