Tank: Apaches MC Read Online Free PDF

living room. Without Carmen’s music blasting, it’s a totally different space. The hallways aren’t full of lights, and the kitchen isn’t smelling of fresh salsa and tamales. There’s no one greeting me at the door, screaming loudly, “Hey chica! What’s new? What’s happening? Who did you annoy today?”
     
    I hate to admit it, but this is way, way too quiet for me. I run my hand under the sides of the couch cushions until I find the remote. I leave it on whatever channel I watched last night. It’s some silly game show with the contestants running across insane obstacles like bubbling orange and red fire pits and skydiving solo out of a plane. I try to imagine myself taking a leap like that. I think the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done is slap that guy in the elevator.
     
    Ugh ! Again… I can’t stop thinking of him and how the pit in my stomach burned when he leaned his body up against mine, pinning me in my place. I shouldn’t feel that way for a massive asshole. But he was massive…massive in all the good ways. Those shoulders that threatened to rip through the shirt, the long and lean legs that kept him sturdy, and the thick and strong chest. Even his face felt like steel and metal under my hand. Over two hours later…and my palm still stings.
     
    I turn the television off and sit with myself for a moment. I shouldn’t be thinking of Tank, or whatever his silly club name is. I should be thinking about Carmen and her prognosis. Anthony said she’s in a coma. I’ve always heard that word on movies and shows, but I never knew what it meant. Would she not come out of it like most of the people I heard? Or will she pull through like my favorite soap opera characters where she just suddenly sits up and looks around is a hundred percent back to normal? Would Anthony have to decide to pull the plug? 
     
    At this point, neither option sound good or realistic. Carmen took a beating that brought her to the very edge of her life. Anthony mentioned that the bruises looked like she was hit with a pipe. A fist, he explained in a detached and far off way, would have left knuckle imprints that could have possibly been traced back. A kick to the face or a metal pipe on the other hand left no impression that could make a difference to those who were investigating.
     
    That’s what Tank said he was doing after all. He was investigating. He was going to find the person who did this and make sure that they never, ever crossed him or his club again. Should I tell Anthony this? Should I call Abe?
     
    I go through the pockets of my dress searching for my phone. When I find it, there are already two messages from Abe. Even with the attack, he still has managed to try to hit on me: Hey Sierra. I know you’re upset about Carmen. Why don’t I come over and keep you company?
     
    What a scumbag. No matter what Carmen tried to tell me, I couldn’t see why he was worth all those girls hanging around him. I mean, there’s the power—I get that. But as the leader of the Aztecs, he was still new on the block. He had a lot to prove to not just me, an outsider, but to his men. However, as the last few years have passed and the Apaches have become more than just an idle threat, guys like Anthony have been giving him a lot of devotion and trust.
     
    Still, something about him made my skin crawl. He was good looking, but he knew it. He slicked his hair back with more product than Carmen and I both owned combined. And his tattoos were his big talking point. He never missed an opportunity to pull up his shirt to show his imposing set of abs and the new picture he got painted onto himself. I can’t stand that crap, that bravado. It’s all talk.
     
    I look back down at the text message lighting up my screen and reply: No thanks. Not needed. That’s all I need to say. Anything else would be practically begging him to get deeper into my life. And I don’t need that tonight—or any night. Abe and I are never going to