Allegiance - Chiah Wilder Page 0,27

the ignition and look over at her.

Her face broke into a cheeky smile. “Time’s up. You’ve got to go, she said, her voice muffled by the window.”

Tank opened the door.

“I had a nice time tonight.” The smile grew wider and her nose crinkled.

Ruthless. The woman was utterly ruthless.

“It was a nice change of pace,” he admitted, sliding out of the vehicle. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” she replied, holding her hand out for him to shake.

Is she fuckin’ kidding?

“What the fuck? You almost sucked my face off a while ago, and now you want to shake hands?”

“We both got caught up in the moment. We drank a lot, and moonlight on the water is a major aphrodisiac.”

“Bullshit. If that’s the way you wanna play it, that’s cool with me. But just so you know, I’m not shakin’ your damn hand.” Gripping her arms, he kissed her hard and stepped back. “Goodnight, Lena. Drive safely.”

She stared at him wide-eyed and mumbled, “Goodnight. And thanks again,” before slipping into the SUV.

Their eyes locked. It took all his willpower to keep from yanking her out of the car and into his arms. But he took another step back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“As I said, keep in touch, Lena.”

With a smile, he closed her door and strolled over to where he’d parked his bike. He could sense her eyes on him, but he didn’t look back. Swinging a leg over the motorcycle, he settled into the seat. When he heard the SUV start up, he looked over his shoulder to find her still watching him. Lifting his chin, he revved the engine and sped out of the parking lot.

Not wanting to go home, Tank headed to the Jagged Outlaws clubhouse, where he’d been a patched member for the past eleven years. When he and Trish had married, he was in his second year as a prospect. When he earned his full patch, she had been thrilled. She loved the excitement of the bike rallies and the family barbecues, but she’d hated being barred from going to the club’s parties. She couldn’t get past the idea that there were club girls at the parties and she—his old lady—couldn’t go.

After that, Trish was convinced that he was fucking around with the club girls, which he wasn’t—that wasn’t his style. Then she started making him choose between the club and her, and that’s when shit hit the fan. In the end, she ran off with another man, and that’s when Tank had found out she’d been cheating on him for most of their ill-fated marriage.

Tank drove into the clubhouse’s parking lot, killed the engine, and pulled out his cut from the saddlebag and slipped it on. Nomad was stitched on the bottom rocker of the patch since he’d gone nomad almost three years before. It had been an easy decision for him. One of the reasons he’d wanted to join the Jagged Outlaws was because of the president, Raptor. Tank had met the prez at a rally when he was a senior in high school, and the man took a shine to him. Raptor had just turned thirty when the presidential torch passed from his father’s hands to his. After a motorcycle accident, Skull, the old president, couldn’t handle the responsibility of running things. Growing up in the club, Raptor’s dad had groomed him for the position, so he’d stepped up to the plate. In Tank’s, and the other brothers’ opinion, Raptor had been doing a kick-ass job.

Then life delivered a crushing blow to the club’s president: his eight-year-old son had leukemia. So, for the past few years, Raptor’s attention had been on his Nick, not the Jagged Outlaws MC. Raptor’s absence, due to long stints at UCLA Cancer Center, left the leadership of the MC in the hands of the vice president—Hammer. The VP was a mean, greedy sonofabitch who wanted to bring the Jagged Outlaws back to the old way of doing things: turf wars, prostitution, hard drugs, and extortion. The club during Skull’s reign was rough and brutal, and Raptor had fought tooth and nail to get them on a better track since picking up the torch. Now that flame was dying out.

Taking advantage of Raptor’s family situation, Hammer was slowly slithering his way to the top, with the single goal of ousting the president.

To Tank, Hammer’s intentions were transparent, but when he’d bring it up to the members, they’d tell him he was imagining shit, but he knew better.