Read Online Tank: Apaches MC by Olivia Stephens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Olivia Stephens
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And if I had to tag along for this, I was going to see it out.
When I get out of the gas station’s filthy bathroom, Tank is standing at the door waiting for me. He is gulping down a large bottle of ice cold water, and I watch thirstily as little trails of water fall out of the corner of his mouth. He gulps down the last of it loudly and tosses the plastic blue bottle into the garbage can. He then turns to me and asks teasingly, “Did you want some of that?”
“Screw you,” I say, trying not to laugh. I did turn him down when he offered. I head over to the cash register with my own bottle and take out my wallet from the backpack. I stare in disbelief as I suddenly realize I don’t have any Mexican currency and that my credit cards are back at my apartment. Under my breath, I use my limited amount of Spanish to tell the impatient cashier that I didn’t want the water anymore.
Tank is standing directly behind me, as I walk out the door and into the hot spring sun. I push around some dirt with the toe of my nude-colored flats as I wait for him by his bike. When he appears moments later, he has an open bottle waiting for me. He ducks his head to meet my downcast eyes, as he pushes it to me. “Come on. I don’t want a dead girl on my hands just because you hate me. Take the damn water.”
“No thank you.” I head over to the bike and attempt to straddle it on my own. I’m anything but graceful as I practically stumble into the seat. Tank is still watching with that smug smile on his face and the water in his hand.
“Don’t make me pour this on you. While it may be hot for me to see that little red dress cling to you even more, I’d rather you drink it than waste it.” He takes a sip and lets out another exaggerated sigh. I’m going to lose this battle.
I grit my teeth and look away as I hold out my hand. He places the water in my hand and wraps my fingers around it. I turn back and let him see me gulp the entire thing down. I can’t even believe how easy that was. While I’ve been riding motorcycles with my dad since I was a little girl, I have never been on such a long ride in the hotter seasons. It’s actually hard and demanding work to do this day in and day out for hours. Part of me was actually admiring Tank for his stamina.
But now that we’re back on the road, all I can do is hate him for this. He somehow thinks he can just take me for no reason or explanation except to promise me that there is a guy somewhere who knows something about Carmen’s attack. How am I supposed to be okay with this? I need to be with Carmen to protect her, to watch out for her, and to make sure that she is treated right while she is so vulnerable. I’m not supposed to be on a scavenger hunt with a hot guy and his bike.
Another hour passes, and Tank’s giving me no indication if we’re even close to this destination. I’ve stopped trying to figure out where we are going. We’ve somehow managed to go from a major highway with normal city traffic to small village in Mexico. It’s almost like one of those movies with the small hut homes and the dirt roads. Once we pull into town, there are even little children with sand-colored clothing there to greet us and ask for candy.
Despite the children being eager to see us, the rest of the town looks anything but. I spot several men running inside their homes or businesses when we pull off the main road. A woman yells for her daughter to come inside, and another shuts her business’ doors tight with a plank lock system out of the Middle Ages. It seems to me that Tank’s reputation has managed to follow him all the way down here.
He gets off his bike and tosses his helmet to me. “Stay here. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t do anything. Just wait for me.” He then hurries inside a white, plantation-style home that stands out from the rest of the village. Its bricks practically gleam in the sun, and the townspeople have all seemed
When I get out of the gas station’s filthy bathroom, Tank is standing at the door waiting for me. He is gulping down a large bottle of ice cold water, and I watch thirstily as little trails of water fall out of the corner of his mouth. He gulps down the last of it loudly and tosses the plastic blue bottle into the garbage can. He then turns to me and asks teasingly, “Did you want some of that?”
“Screw you,” I say, trying not to laugh. I did turn him down when he offered. I head over to the cash register with my own bottle and take out my wallet from the backpack. I stare in disbelief as I suddenly realize I don’t have any Mexican currency and that my credit cards are back at my apartment. Under my breath, I use my limited amount of Spanish to tell the impatient cashier that I didn’t want the water anymore.
Tank is standing directly behind me, as I walk out the door and into the hot spring sun. I push around some dirt with the toe of my nude-colored flats as I wait for him by his bike. When he appears moments later, he has an open bottle waiting for me. He ducks his head to meet my downcast eyes, as he pushes it to me. “Come on. I don’t want a dead girl on my hands just because you hate me. Take the damn water.”
“No thank you.” I head over to the bike and attempt to straddle it on my own. I’m anything but graceful as I practically stumble into the seat. Tank is still watching with that smug smile on his face and the water in his hand.
“Don’t make me pour this on you. While it may be hot for me to see that little red dress cling to you even more, I’d rather you drink it than waste it.” He takes a sip and lets out another exaggerated sigh. I’m going to lose this battle.
I grit my teeth and look away as I hold out my hand. He places the water in my hand and wraps my fingers around it. I turn back and let him see me gulp the entire thing down. I can’t even believe how easy that was. While I’ve been riding motorcycles with my dad since I was a little girl, I have never been on such a long ride in the hotter seasons. It’s actually hard and demanding work to do this day in and day out for hours. Part of me was actually admiring Tank for his stamina.
But now that we’re back on the road, all I can do is hate him for this. He somehow thinks he can just take me for no reason or explanation except to promise me that there is a guy somewhere who knows something about Carmen’s attack. How am I supposed to be okay with this? I need to be with Carmen to protect her, to watch out for her, and to make sure that she is treated right while she is so vulnerable. I’m not supposed to be on a scavenger hunt with a hot guy and his bike.
Another hour passes, and Tank’s giving me no indication if we’re even close to this destination. I’ve stopped trying to figure out where we are going. We’ve somehow managed to go from a major highway with normal city traffic to small village in Mexico. It’s almost like one of those movies with the small hut homes and the dirt roads. Once we pull into town, there are even little children with sand-colored clothing there to greet us and ask for candy.
Despite the children being eager to see us, the rest of the town looks anything but. I spot several men running inside their homes or businesses when we pull off the main road. A woman yells for her daughter to come inside, and another shuts her business’ doors tight with a plank lock system out of the Middle Ages. It seems to me that Tank’s reputation has managed to follow him all the way down here.
He gets off his bike and tosses his helmet to me. “Stay here. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t do anything. Just wait for me.” He then hurries inside a white, plantation-style home that stands out from the rest of the village. Its bricks practically gleam in the sun, and the townspeople have all seemed
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