Tank (Dark Falcons #2) - Em Petrova Page 0,1
more men and women wanted to be associated with the good Tank’s club planned to do.
Right now, the Dark Falcons were in the process of finding a place to relocate their club. Holding meetings in the back of the Painted Pig bar was all right, but they needed their own space.
He leaned into the next curve and the next. The town came into view, as picturesque as a postcard. Hell, there actually were postcards of the town, they had so many tourists visiting all year round. In the distance, the big Ferris wheel of the fairgrounds rose up into the cloudy sky.
He hit a straight stretch and ramped up the speed. The bike felt like an extension of himself. Every piece he’d lovingly fitted together with the next and the next to build one of the most coveted bikes among the Dark Falcons.
Slowing a fraction, he eased into the final curve. Under his tires, loose gravel crunched. When the motorcycle weaved on the asphalt and rolling gravel, Tank tightened his grip on the handlebars and downshifted—too late.
He started to slide—seeing the end before he could even adjust his actions to right himself.
No time. “Motherfuck!”
The side of the bike hit guardrail and he dumped it, skidding on denim and leather. His shoulder dug into unmoving, unforgiving pavement. The crash of steel and metal shrieked in his ears. He came to a stop. Pain gripped him, and Tank rolled onto his back, seeing only the cloudy sky.
Chapter One
“Take it easy tomorrow. You’re pretty banged up.” The pretty nurse with the soft brown eyes held out the clipboard with his emergency room discharge papers and a pen.
Tank took the pen from her hand with a wince of a smile and scrawled his name. He’d spent three hours in the ER being looked over for major injuries, and he knew how damn lucky he was that he didn’t have any. Other than being ‘banged up’ like the pretty nurse said, he was fine.
No way his bike would be, though.
The nurse handed him the papers and then stood back to watch him stand from the hospital bed to his full height. She walked with him to the doors and saw him out.
He swung back to look at her. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t get in any more accidents, ya hear?” She smiled.
He turned forward again to see his guys standing there. The whole club filled the waiting room, from wall to wall with leather and patches bearing the Dark Falcons logo.
“Dude. You scared the hell outta us.” Dixon was there first, his hand out for Tank to clasp. He gripped it hard and Dixon looked him over. “You look like shit, but that nurse is lookin’ at you like she wrote her number on your discharge papers.”
He didn’t pivot to see for himself. He’d been getting looks from her all night. Thing was, she was all wrong for him. Pretty but not interesting. Kind, not mouthy. He definitely preferred his girls mouthy.
Next in line, Patriot gripped hands with him. “Don’t worry about a thing, man. We got your bike picked up off the road and took it back to Rothchilds’.”
He nodded and continued to move through the group of guys there to offer help in rebuilding his bike and glad tidings that he hadn’t broken his damn neck when he hit that guardrail.
“Yeah, I know I’m damn lucky,” he told Blade. The nickname hadn’t caught on with Tank yet. In high school, he was just Titus, the loner who sometimes edged closer to his and Dixon’s group of friends.
“I’ll drive you home.” Dixon’s offer sounded like the best idea anyone had all evening.
“Thanks, man.”
Dixon nodded. They all drifted out of the hospital, and the guys split off to their motorcycles dotted all over the lot. Tank stared at the ambulance parked near the doors and wondered if Catarina was one of the paramedics on duty. While in the ER, he’d spent too much time watching the doors for a sight of her.
Dixon led the way to the truck he’d driven. When Tank climbed in, he felt the aches that would soon become major pains as soon as his meds wore off. “Gonna be stiff as hell come morning,” he said.
Starting the truck, his buddy nodded. “Fiona sends her best. Said if you need anything at all, she’s happy to help.” Dixon tossed him a grin. “I told her I draw the line at her giving you sponge baths, though.”
Tank chuckled. “I’ll thank her next time I go into