Tank (Dark Falcons #2) - Em Petrova Page 0,2
the Painted Pig.” The most popular bar in Mersey was not only owned by Dixon’s woman, but it served as their club for the time being. They held meetings after hours, seated around the big table in the back. Usually Fiona cleaned up as she listened to their talk about club laws they were still instating and charity rides to be organized.
“Shit.”
Dixon pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “What is it?”
“The big ride’s Sunday. I don’t have a bike.”
“Man, you’re going to sit this one out. You’re not in any shape to ride.”
“Nothin’s broken.”
“You’re lucky. What happened, anyway? The guys and I were speculating, but nobody could really piece together what happened from the accident scene.”
Even shrugging hurt, but Tank did it anyway. “Hit some gravel. It sent me fishtailing and I turned the bike before I hit the guardrail head-on.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“I kind of skimmed the rail. Laid down the bike. I remember skidding and looking up at the sky.”
“That’s how the driver passing by found you. Scared the fuck out of us, Tank. Don’t do it again.”
“I don’t plan on it.” He examined his knuckles, which had road rash and were bandaged with gauze.
“Thank God you had your helmet and leather on. Cut the worst of it.”
Tank looked at him. “How bad’s the bike?”
Dixon’s jaw tensed.
Tank nodded. “Got some work to do, I guess.”
“You could say that.”
“I’ll start on it after my shift at the factory tomorrow.”
Dixon glanced at him. “You plan on working your usual shift?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I ain’t dead.”
Dixon laughed. “True enough, brother. I’m damn glad of it.”
Tank’s lower back was stiff and his knee felt so swollen he didn’t know how he’d managed to put his jeans on for work. Working second shift gave him time to stretch out the worst of the kinks from the accident, and he got a lift to work from one of the brothers in the Dark Falcons.
He strolled into the office to punch his timecard and threw a smile at the receptionist, Nadine.
Her eyes widened. “Rob! We didn’t expect you in today.”
He offered a crooked smile. “Nothing could keep me away from this place.” While his passion didn’t lay in being a machine operator in the plant, he didn’t mind it. He liked clocking out at the end of his shift and leaving it all behind him. Not once did he drag work home with him or even give it a second thought after he left. Better than being a doctor thinking about patients and getting calls at all hours of the night, or a lawyer dragging home case files and drinking away the cases he lost.
He knew a few of both types and always thanked God he hadn’t been pressured to do something different with his life.
Slicing his fingers through his too-long hair, he started toward the time clock.
“Oh. Rob. Wait just a minute.” Nadine’s strained Southern drawl stopped him in his tracks.
“What is it?”
“Uh…we thought you got that memo.”
He arched a brow.
“In your…uh, last paycheck.”
He usually pulled the check from the envelope and threw the rest in the wastebasket. “What did it say?”
“Maybe you should…” She pointed to the door leading to the boss man’s office. “Why don’t you speak with Mr. Ray?”
Throwing her a suspicious look, he headed to the door. He knocked once, and Mr. Ray called out to come in.
When the guy saw him, his eyes widened the same way Nadine’s had.
“What the fuck is going on?” Tank asked.
Running a plant full of roughneck workers, the boss didn’t take offense to his language.
“Rob didn’t get the memo, Mr. Ray,” Nadine explained.
“Ah. Okay. Why don’t you sit, Rob?”
“Hurts too damn much. I wrecked my bike yesterday.”
“Yes, I heard. We’re surprised you came in today.”
“I have a feeling the bike crash isn’t the only reason you’re surprised. What’s going on?” He waited for the man’s response.
He was also a straight-shooter, which Tank appreciated. “The memo stated we were in the process of cuts around here. We’ve got more parts machined than we have buyers for, so we’re shutting down some shifts.”
Fuck.
“I’m laid off?”
Mr. Ray nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“For how long?”
“Until we get some big orders again. It could be months. It was all in the memo.”
Hell. He was out of work and had no bike. What money he had in the bank would need to last him until unemployment kicked in, but that might not be enough to live on let alone buy new parts needed for his bike.
“Guess next time I’ll read the