Read Online Tank: Apaches MC by Olivia Stephens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Olivia Stephens
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fist. This girl is testing my patience. Even with a body like hers and two lips that taste just like rain, I can’t ignore the fact that she is pressing every single button I have. I pound my feet as I walk right up to her and place a finger to her forehead. “Listen, lady. I don’t do ‘nice’ most days, and I certainly don’t have to do it tonight. But if you think that you can—”
My phone begins to ring, breaking up the conversation. Both of us break our death stares and move to our corners. She returns to Carmen’s bedside, as she adjusts some pillows while I take the call.
“Tank here,” I say gruffly into the receiver. “The fuck is going on?”
“It’s Rafael. I’m here with Guzman. He’s got info on the girl he thinks you may want to know. But he won’t talk to me. He wants to see you in person.”
“Tell that little prick that you speak for me.” I’m beyond annoyed at this. I sent Rafael for answers, not to make this even more complicated than it has to be.
“I tried, sir. I really did. But he’s not budging. He wants to do a business deal when you come. And he wants you to be here by this evening. What should I tell him?”
I look over towards Sierra who is reading a textbook out loud. I catch her eye as I speak into the receiver. “Tell Guzman that I’ll be there. But whatever info he’s got, it better be good.”
Without another word, I hang up the phone and walk towards Sierra. Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her and her bookbag out of the room. Once we’re past the nurses’ station, she starts to break away from me. “Where do you think you are taking me? You can’t do this!”
“Shut up, Sierra.” I hold onto her tighter as we get into the elevator. “If you want to know what happened to your friend, you have to come with me.”
“What? Why?” She looks at me in terror, as I pull out the gun from my waistband and stick it into the pocket of my leather jacket. “Where are you taking me?”
“Mexico. We’re going to go see a guy who knows who did this.”
Chapter 8: Torn at the Seams
“Do you want me to grab you some water or something?” Tank pulls a large leg over the side of the parked bike and hops off. He then reaches out his hand to me, but I refuse it. I can get off this thing on my own. I certainly don’t need help from my kidnapper.
“No. I can get whatever I need on my own.” I storm away from him in a huff. We’ve been riding for three hours now with no breaks. I’m wearing this ridiculous dress that doesn’t protect my legs from the scorching hot seats or the rub of his jeans against my thighs, and my hair is in a complete wind-blown knot at the back of my head. All I want now is to stretch my beat up body and figure out how to get the hell away from this monster.
I didn’t appreciate being dragged out here across the border. Part of me wasn’t even stunned when we managed to cross through without a second glance from border patrol. He just flashed an ID at them, and they sent him through the roadblock as if he was some diplomat. It must be nice being the big man on the U.S. side with all the connections and power.
Once we got past the U.S. officials, I knew that I was screwed. Even if I could take my hands that clenched to his jacket and reach into his pocket for that gun, I wouldn’t be fast enough. And if I got a shot in, there would be no one here to save me or protect me from the wrath of the Apaches—not even the Aztecs.
Rumor among the boys is that the reason the Aztecs couldn’t grow their territory was because Apaches and Tank had a control over who ran drugs in and out of the two countries. Anyone who passes and sells drugs has to do it with the Apache’s president’s permission. But if that were true, why were we in Mexico now? Shouldn’t his power be able to order whoever had the insider knowledge to just confess? Something wasn’t sitting right with me.
My phone begins to ring, breaking up the conversation. Both of us break our death stares and move to our corners. She returns to Carmen’s bedside, as she adjusts some pillows while I take the call.
“Tank here,” I say gruffly into the receiver. “The fuck is going on?”
“It’s Rafael. I’m here with Guzman. He’s got info on the girl he thinks you may want to know. But he won’t talk to me. He wants to see you in person.”
“Tell that little prick that you speak for me.” I’m beyond annoyed at this. I sent Rafael for answers, not to make this even more complicated than it has to be.
“I tried, sir. I really did. But he’s not budging. He wants to do a business deal when you come. And he wants you to be here by this evening. What should I tell him?”
I look over towards Sierra who is reading a textbook out loud. I catch her eye as I speak into the receiver. “Tell Guzman that I’ll be there. But whatever info he’s got, it better be good.”
Without another word, I hang up the phone and walk towards Sierra. Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her and her bookbag out of the room. Once we’re past the nurses’ station, she starts to break away from me. “Where do you think you are taking me? You can’t do this!”
“Shut up, Sierra.” I hold onto her tighter as we get into the elevator. “If you want to know what happened to your friend, you have to come with me.”
“What? Why?” She looks at me in terror, as I pull out the gun from my waistband and stick it into the pocket of my leather jacket. “Where are you taking me?”
“Mexico. We’re going to go see a guy who knows who did this.”
Chapter 8: Torn at the Seams
“Do you want me to grab you some water or something?” Tank pulls a large leg over the side of the parked bike and hops off. He then reaches out his hand to me, but I refuse it. I can get off this thing on my own. I certainly don’t need help from my kidnapper.
“No. I can get whatever I need on my own.” I storm away from him in a huff. We’ve been riding for three hours now with no breaks. I’m wearing this ridiculous dress that doesn’t protect my legs from the scorching hot seats or the rub of his jeans against my thighs, and my hair is in a complete wind-blown knot at the back of my head. All I want now is to stretch my beat up body and figure out how to get the hell away from this monster.
I didn’t appreciate being dragged out here across the border. Part of me wasn’t even stunned when we managed to cross through without a second glance from border patrol. He just flashed an ID at them, and they sent him through the roadblock as if he was some diplomat. It must be nice being the big man on the U.S. side with all the connections and power.
Once we got past the U.S. officials, I knew that I was screwed. Even if I could take my hands that clenched to his jacket and reach into his pocket for that gun, I wouldn’t be fast enough. And if I got a shot in, there would be no one here to save me or protect me from the wrath of the Apaches—not even the Aztecs.
Rumor among the boys is that the reason the Aztecs couldn’t grow their territory was because Apaches and Tank had a control over who ran drugs in and out of the two countries. Anyone who passes and sells drugs has to do it with the Apache’s president’s permission. But if that were true, why were we in Mexico now? Shouldn’t his power be able to order whoever had the insider knowledge to just confess? Something wasn’t sitting right with me.
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