Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 169

Tank POV

Fixer told another story that tore at my heartstrings That woman had seen more of the dark side of life than most do in a lifetime, male or female. I rocked her back and forth, like I remembered my mother would do when I was upset. I waited for her to settle.

Her sniffles slowed to just the occasional blow of her nose, and she started to run her hand over my arm, squeezing my bicep, as if testing it. Mind you, her hand barely managed to get much of a hold; it was a large bicep. Mr. Universe had nothing on me, and mine was all natural, nothing steroid-enhanced.

I brought up the subject of Savage; his face reminded me of someone I had seen, or met, or possibly a photo of. But still couldn’t place it. Bringing in Dirk was a good idea from Fixer; he hired him, so we should be able to get more answers.

“We don’t discuss our team’s family backgrounds; they have the right to some privacy. If you wish

to know more, speak with the person themselves,” Dirk replied, and it sounded like the standard answer he would give anyone.

“What’s his full name? Give us something to go on.” Fixer asked, almost desperate.

“Savage is what we call him; no one calls him by any other name.” He continued in the same monotone voice, as if this whole subject bored him

“Why does his voice sound like Mrs. Astore’s?” I pushed, trying to come up with different ways to ask the same question.

“I repeat, speak to the man concerned. If they wish to talk about their past life or family life, they can. It’s not my place to answer any of these questions. If you do not require anything or have any security concerns, I will return to the men.” Dirk stood, and a smirk played on his lips, but we couldn’t get him to budge on talking about any of the men.

We watched him leave the room, and I fell back onto thoughts of where I might have seen him before.

“Since it was taking my mind off what was going on behind that door, with Sticks, lets breakdown what we know or think we know about Savage,” Fixer said, and I suddenly thought of the photo I have of him on my phone. I took a snap of him when I met him earlier; he didn’t appear to mind me doing so.

I looked at it for a while. I covered the bottom of his face with my hand, so all I had was his eyes and forehead. and looked harder at him, at his eyes I know I had never met the guy before, but his face felt familiar. Damn it, this was annoying.

“What are you looking at?” Fixer asked, and I looked up at her, seeing the very same eyes. It was so surprising, I dropped my phone. Fixer was close enough to catch it before it hit the floor.

“Your dad,” I whispered back, so sure now that was who Savage was, or a brother, but he didn’t have any, a cousin maybe, don’t know enough of the family to really know.

Fixer lifted my phone to look at what I was staring at.

“Savage?” She asked, confusion marring her face.

“Look, who does this remind you of?” I put my hand over his face, leaving just the eyes.

‘Grams.” She replied, not seeing her own eyes shining back.

“And?” I asked, and she looked at me quizzically.

“Your Dad’s eyes,” I said. She looked down again and back up at me.

“Are you saying Savage is my Dad?” She still couldn’t believe what I was suggesting.

“We named him after you, Fixer, because if you hadn’t had the helicopter, he wouldn’t be alive now. It was touch and go, hence the C-section, but once but, he bounced back quickly, so much so, he didn’t need ICU.” Sticks’ voice was rough with emotion, and she held the little boy in her arms. I am not sure I would be able to hold him till he gets a lot bigger. He looked like I could fit the little tyke in one hand.

Fixer moved forward, gently took the little hand poking out, leaned down, and kissed it, then pulled back.

“He looks beautiful. This might be the only time a boy would accept being called beautiful.” Fixer joked, as she stared down at her namesake, a loaf of bread looked bigger than the bundle in her arms, a lot smaller than the bulging belly gave the impression of. I had thought the baby would be bigger, which shows you how much I know about babies.

Prez sat on the bed, next to Sticks, and rested his arm over the back of her head, looking down at the little bundle with such love. I had never seen Prez this emotional before, not since my parents died. I pushed the thought of my parents back into the box where it belonged.

“How long will you be staying in here?” Fixer asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“Three to five days, depending on the baby, and my pain threshold.” Sticks replied, still beaming ather son.

“Will keep the nurse around a bit longer then, she can help you when you first get out, and hang around for as long as you need her.” Fixer was already making plans for Sticks’ return. Ever the sorter and fixer, that my little lady for you.

I handed Prez the overnight bag.

“Thanks, hadn’t planned on staying the night.” I looked at Sticks, and she didn’t seem worried whether he did or didn’t.

“You have things to do, go do them, Max and I will be fine.” Sticks said as she covered herself up. It amazed me that Sticks had no qualms about feeding in front of me, and Prez didn’t blink at it either.