Tank leaned on the bar, enjoying the feel of a cold bottle in his hand, the taste of beer on his tongue, and the friendly chaos of the clubhouse where he and his brothers went to unwind. Classic rock ‘n’ roll thumped and wailed out of the jukebox. Drunken laughter and the clack of pool balls echoed around him. Neon signs advertising every manner of alcohol decorated the walls, glowing in a riot of colors behind a haze of cigarette and cigar smoke.
Nearly half the chapter was here tonight. Eleven of his brothers, five of them in the company of their old ladies, plus a couple of unattached honeys lounging around made for a lively crowd and a full house. The booze would flow. Brothers would fight. Honeys would cozy up to whichever man seemed best suited to scratch their itch.
Just a typical Friday night for the local chapter of the Red Tide biker gang.
As taverns went, the Jokers Wild was not a large establishment. The furnishings were mismatched and well-worn. It was not easily found on Google search. The only indication of the business inside its walls were two wooden signs nailed to the front door of an otherwise unremarkable looking, two-story, brick building.
One displayed a skull and crossbones design, except the crossed bones were two assault rifles. The other was a warning to the foolish and the unaware. “No colors, no entry. This means you, mother fucker.”
Tank smiled into his beer and shook his head. And yet, despite that friendly warning, every once in a while, some ass hat with no sense of self-preservation would walk through the door. If they were respectful, one of the brothers would explain their mistake and escort them out. If they came in looking for trouble, then that too was on the menu.
“What are you grinning about?” Slider asked from the stool on Tank’s left side. He sat with his broad back against the bar. Salt and pepper beard hung almost to his belly, a stark contrast to the complete lack of hair on his head. Tattoos decorated every square inch of his bare arms, from knuckles and shoulders.
“Just thinking about those college kids that walked up in here last month.”
Slider through his head back in a burst of explosive laughter. “Yeah, well, they learned a valuable lesson.”
Tank took another sip of his beer. “And a few bruises. Some people just do not understand what 'not welcome' means.
The bell over the front chimed, a notification to all present that someone had walked in. Slider looked up. “Yep.” The old guy breathed. “And thank God for that.”
Tank heard the odd, almost awestruck tone in Slider’s voice. He looked up to see his brother staring wide-eyed at the door, mouth hanging open in the tangle of his beard, and turned around to see.
He felt his jaw unhinge as a long pair of shapely legs in a short skirt walked toward him through the haze. A tight, black dress emphasized the curve of hips tapering to a narrow waist, only to flare again over high, firm breasts. Silence trailed behind her like ripples in still water until the only sound was rock ‘n’ roll music and the click of heels on the battered hardwood floor.
Tank tore his eyes away from the neckline of that dress and the pale cleavage on display to look up, past the graceful lines of her neck and the gentle fall of thick, auburn hair, and over the soft swell of painted lips. She stepped closer through the smoke. Familiar, blue eyes looked up at him.
Tank felt a hard slap of recognition. “Kerri?”
“Hi John,” she replied, using his birth name. “Buy a girl a drink?”
From somewhere in the back, one of his brothers let out an earsplitting wolf whistle. “Baby girl!” another called out to a rumble of agreement from the other men in the room and a murmur of anger from the women.
Tank looked around the room, swallowing against a surge of protective anger. “Pipe the fuck down.” His voice carried across the bar. “This is my sister.”
A collective groan of good-natured disappointment filled the smoky air.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Kerri frowned up at her brother. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself. You should know. You taught me how.”
“Yes, I did need to do that,” He growled. “You can’t just walk into a biker bar looking like…”
“Like what?” Kerri looked him in the eyes and arched an eyebrow in challenge. Her voice was challenging.
Tank struggled to find the proper words for a reply. They just piled up behind his teeth. “Looking so beautiful,” he managed.
“Oh.” A blush touched her cheeks. “Thank you, John.” Kerri smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “I needed to hear that more than you could know.”
“Don’t that fucking figure,” Slider grumbled. “A woman as fine as you walks through the door and you're family. Damn the luck.”
He heaved a sigh, then vacated his seat at the bar and patted it an invitation. “Sweet thing, if you get tired of hanging out with your boring ass brother, I would be happy to buy you that drink.” Slider looked up at Tank and scowled. “How does an ugly bastard like you have such a smoking hot sister? You adopted?”
Kerri offered a smile and a friendly handshake to Slider. “Close. Step-brother. My dad married his mom when we were children.”
Tank was still staring at her. “Fuck off, Slider,” He replied in a distracted tone of voice.
“Yeah, yeah.” Slider grinned and winked at Kerri as he walked away.
“So, how about that drink?” she asked.
“Sure,” her brother replied. “Have a seat. Buzz, give the lady whatever she wants.”
“Tequila,” Kerri ordered she settled on the barstool. “And make it a double, please.”
Tank raised an eyebrow at her as he too settled onto his barstool and leaned on the counter.
Kerri shrugged. “It’s been a long night.”
“You want to tell me about it?’ he asked.
“Yes, but give me a minute, ok?” She made short work of the tequila shot and signaled for another.
“Sure,” Tank nodded. “Take your time, sis. I’m always here when you need me.”
Kerri blinked at him. He could not read the expression on her face. “I know you are.”
In truth, Tank did not object to a moment of silence. His thoughts were tangled and troubled. Smoking hot sister, Slider had said.
And she was, Tank now realized. He had seen her, all tits and legs, a woman in the prime of her sexuality, before his brain had time to recognize her as family.
My sister. My baby sister. He repeated the thought in his head like a prayer. As if by will alone, he could make himself forget what he had seen and felt at her approach.
In his mind’s eye, he summoned a memory of Kerri as a skinny tomboy with dirt on her face. Of having attended her wedding to Bradley, smiling until he thought his jaw would crack. Cheering as she graduated from college to begin a successful career as a trial lawyer. All the things a good brother did for his sister.
“Bradley and I are getting a divorce.”
“What?” Tank snapped out of his troubled thoughts. His hands curled into fists. Hard muscles rolled beneath the US Marine tattoo on his forearm. “If he hurt you…”
She laid a hand on his clenched fist. Her touch was gentle and cool against the heat radiating from his flesh. Logan stared at the contrast of her small, elegant hand and manicured nails laying on his large, sunburnt, battle-scarred knuckles.
“It was a mutual decision.” Her voice was calm, but Tank knew her as few ever would. He could hear the pain beneath the surface and knew that it ran deep. “Neither of us was happy, John, and I don’t want to go on living a lie. This is for the best.”
Tank took a deep breath and let his rising anger go. “I never liked that guy.”
She smiled. “I know.”
He looked her in the eyes. “And you never loved him.”
Kerri blinked at him. Undefined emotions swam behind her blue eyes. “How would you know that?”
Tank turned his hand over to wrap his fingers around hers. “I just know. I’ve always known.”
She took a deep breath and looked away, blinking rapidly. Kerri shook her head and looked down at the bar. “Life just doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“No,” He said. “No, it sure as hell doesn’t.”
Both of them seemed to realize that they were still holding hands. Both sat back and disengaged. Kerri cleared her throat and gestured to catch the attention of Buzz at the other end of the bar.
“I need more tequila. A lot more. Will you drink with me?”
“I would love to, sis, but one of us has to get you home safe, and I’m not about to drive drunk on a motorcycle with you on the back.”
“Fine then. We drive first and drink after.” She replied. “Hey, Buzz. How much for the whole bottle?”
Buzz glanced at Tank before answering. “I’m not supposed to sell liquor by the bottle.”
Kerri leaned forward over the bar. Poor Buzz was torn between looking into her pretty blue eyes or staring at her breasts, threatening to spill out of her little black dress. He attempted to do both.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” She smiled at him. “Please?”
Buzz never stood a chance.
*****
Stars wheeled overhead, shining brightly in the endless black of deep night as they stepped out of the Joker’s Wild. The moon hung large and full, softly glowing with blue radiance. Golden light and noise spilled out behind them. The door shut, muting the rock-n-roll to a rhythmic throb.
Tank looked over at his sister, at her blue eyes, so wide and vulnerable looking in the moonlight. “Ready?’
“Yes,” She replied. “Yes, I am.”
Tank walked over to his Harley and knelt to secure the liquor in a saddlebag. He threw a leg over. At a touch, the engine rumbled to life. He braced and held the bike steady.
“You’re not exactly dressed for this, ya know.” He tried not to think about her little black dress and how little of it covered her long legs while standing, much less straddled on the back of his bike.
“I’ll manage.”
The bike shifted as Kerri stepped up onto the footpeg and threw a bare leg over the seat behind him. Tank heard the rustle of cloth. He glanced in the side mirror.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, a tiny triangle of black silk and lace was perfectly framed in his mirror as his sister lifted the hem of her dress to give her legs room to spread for the machine between them. He could see the plump softness of her sex cradled behind that thin cloth barrier and the flash of smooth, naked inner thighs.
Tank looked away, looked anywhere else. It didn’t matter. The image was burned into his memory.
Stop it! He told himself. Stop looking. Stop wanting to look. Tank wondered why his pulse was racing. He wondered if he might suddenly be sick.
Kerri twined her hair into a braid and then settled in, molding her body against his back. Tank stifled a groan as her hands slid around his waist, her naked thighs lay soft and warm against his denim-clad legs jeans, and her breasts pressed against his back. He could smell the scent of Jasmine in her hair.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked over his shoulder.
Kerri laid her chin on his shoulder. Her cheek brushed against his scruffy face. “Don’t you know?”
The only sounds were the distant thump of rock music, the hum of passing cars, and the chirping song of crickets in the tall grass.
“It might not be there anymore,” He replied. “Some things change.”
“Some things don’t.”
Tank took a deep, shaky breath, then nodded. “Alright, then. Hang on to me.”
She held onto him tighter. “Ready… when you are.”
Swallowing against a dry mouth, Tank nodded and guided his Harley onto the road. The engine purred, then roared as the bike got up to speed. Night wind tore at his hair and clothes, scouring his flesh and replacing her scent with the smell of earth and green.
The road twisted and turned in the glow of headlights. Tank leaned the bike into the turns, and his sister leaned with him. They moved as one; a perfect, unspoken union of flesh, machine, and motion.
Every mile carried them farther away from the lights and noise of the city. Vast stretches of farm fields, bathed in the blue radiance of the full moon, stretched from either side of a two-lane towards a shadowed horizon. Tank eventually slowed and turned left onto a tree-lined, dirt road. The only sound was the crunch of pebbles beneath the rolling tires and the rumble of the engine.
Tank found a break in the trees and gently maneuvered the bike onto a grassy field. Just ahead, a small hill rose above the surrounding landscape. On the crest of the hill was an oak tree rising, gnarled and ancient, toward a glittering expanse of stars in a black velvet sky.
A blanket of silence swept over them as he shut the engine off. Tank waited for her to dismount. Now that the engine was still, he could feel a slight tremble in her hands gripped tight around his waist.
“Ladies first, ” He prompted.
“I just…need a moment.” She gasped.
“Are you ok?” He tried to turn and look at her. Kerri reached up to his shoulders to prevent it.
“Yes! Fine. Really. I had just forgotten how much I enjoy riding bitch on a motorcycle. Just let me catch my breath.”
It was then that he caught the unmistakable scent of a woman’s arousal on the still air. Shocked laughter rumbled out of his chest. “Did you just…”
“Shut up!” she laughed. “Several times,” Kerri muttered almost too low to hear.
