Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 24

Maxine POV

My anger was through the roof, so much so that I was shaking; I wanted to hurt that girl so badly. I heard her, saw her hands snaking around my man, and I lost it, I saw red.

Now they want me to be that angry again?

I know how to fight, Grandpa made sure of it, even had some training, but my anger issue was never a problem till now, it’s like I am a whole new me, someone even I don’t recognise anymore.

In the mirror, this morning, I look the same, but on the inside, it was like someone else had taken over, someone who wouldn’t be a mouse and accept the crap going on, who wants to be seen. For years, I had been in my sister’s shadow, trying to stay out of trouble, accepting the inevitable, but this new me won’t accept that, won’t let some skank come and take who had asked me to be his girl. I want to get to know Tank; he’s fun, and I love his cuddles. It’s nice to wake up and find him next to me.

But can I be like Bruiser, give a girl a slap for some infraction, can I be that girl?

It was never something I had thought about, having spent most of my life avoiding trouble.

Grandpa used to say, ‘Pick your battles.’ Maybe this was a way to pick them; if it was what the gang needed, I guess I could put my training to use. Perhaps I need this to prove myself, that I am not the mouse I used to be, but the woman Grandpa said I was, if I looked hard enough inside, and not let my parents and sister hold me back. This might be what I need to find the real me, just like bike repairs, and begrudgingly the painting, as much as I complain about doing it or that it takes me away from rebuilds, I do like creating. I guess I like to do it in my time, not be pushed to do it, and that was why I arced up when pressed.

I watched Tank and the others disappear into the clubhouse and smiled. He was mine, and I just proved it. Now, to see if I want to keep him. That thought made me chuckle. I might get to have a choice for a change. We sort of, he would be fighting to keep me, too, or he’d better be.

I went back to my painting. I was putting the outline on one side of the slit tank. When done, I will leave it to dry and work on the other tank before looking at the guards and oil cover. This part took a bit of concentration; it would be the groundwork for the finished design. I was so lost in my work that I managed to block out what happened at lunch time, and that they were having a meeting about it.

Happy with what I had done, I moved out of the paint room and started working on the other tank and the side covers.

I kept glancing over to the Shovel, one of the bikes my Grandpa loved. I knew that bike as well as my own, having had to help Grandpa work on his, and I knew a few things that often go wrong with it. I wanted to get to work on it, but it wasn’t on the list of bikes I had been given. I wonder what the Prez would do if he saw me doing something he had not prioritized.

Before I could consider it any longer, Tank arrived, carrying coffee and a muffin. He was smiling, his dimple smile, which had grown on me in a very short time. It was the best smile, because it was genuine, and that makes me happy.

He handed me the coffee and a muffin and sat on an empty box, taking a bite of his own muffin.

“Wow, who made these?” I asked as the muffin burst with blueberries.

“Cricket, she’s not a bad cook.” He shrugged, most likely used to this sort of food. I am more of a savory person, but the occasional muffin, when not too sweet, wasn’t bad.

“What was the verdict?” I asked, assuming he had come out here to talk to me about their decision.

“You are to follow Bruiser’s lead and be a girl bouncer. He will train you in what we expect and when. It works out better that way. We often get girls who need a slap around the ear, but none of us guys want to be the one, and most of our girls are, well, girls, and their slap wouldn’t hurt a fly. Bruiser wants to do a training session with you, find out your skills, he said you were holding back, and could have done a far better job at it, if you hadn’t lost your temper.”

“I agree, when I saw her handling you, I saw red, and all my built-up anger over the years, that hadn’t had a chance to escape, came rushing forward. To be honest, I did manage to hold back.”

“That was what Bruiser said, not that he saw it all, but knew with one look at you, and your stance that there was more to it. He reckons you have had some self-defence training.”

“Yeah, some. Part was with Grandpa, before he died, and the other was in a little group I met after school, a street gang, that didn’t mind a girl in the group. I could hold my own. I was angry and upset that I had lost the only person who cared for me. Grandma had gone, and I didn’t know where to put all my grief, and I felt so very alone. Grandpa helped me, and finding the gang helped too. So I got the taste of street fighting and gym training. I enjoyed both till I lost Grandpa, and then I was lost all over again. You could say I spent a lot of time on the streets clearing out the riff-raff.” I was a rebel, in a small way.

“Your parents and sister don’t sound like they cared much.” He stood up and walked to the paint room.

“You could say that.” I must have sounded odd, because he turned swiftly and looked at me, like really looked.

“Can I see what you have accomplished so far? I get some don’t like others to see an unfinished job.” He hesitated at the door.

“Sure, I don’t mind, feedback good or bad, was always welcome, can’t get better if I don’t get feedback, of some sort.” I stood and followed him in.

He stood in front of the tank, moved around it, and looked up at me. A smile graced his face.

“Can’t wait to see the finished product.” We walked out, and I turned off the light. This would sit like that overnight; let the paint dry well before starting the next part.

“Come, you need to spend some time with Bruiser today. He wants a workout before dinner.” I rolled my eyes at his choice of words; it would most likely have me flat on my back, on a mat, more often than me getting a hit on him.

Bruiser was waiting in a room that looked a lot like a gym, even had a boxing ring, weights, and most of the equipment you would expect. I wondered if they had a sauna or hot tub around somewhere. It wouldn’t have shocked me if they had.

“Do you have a change? Not sure you want to spa with me, in jeans.” Bruiser said nonchalantly.

I unsipped my jeans and wiggled out of them; the guys in the room’s eyes bugged out as I stripped off my jeans and blouse, leaving me in tiny shorts and a sports bra. I folded my jeans and blouse neatly and placed them on a chair before walking over to Bruiser, who was checking me out, still shocked that I removed my clothes in front of them like that. It was how I did it in the street gang: no place to change; do it there or fight in jeans. Often we had to fight in jeans, not like you can say: ‘hey, give me a sec, I need to change.’ Before we had a fight, it was bumping into the wrong gang and scrapping it out, in whatever you are wearing, I soon learned not to go out in my good jeans.

A guy I don’t know, whistled at me, as I moved to stand in front of Bruiser, I was not sure if he wanted to fight me or kiss me, his eyes were sparking with mirth, and lust.

“You got your hands full with this one Tank.” A deep voice said from the back, I didn’t turn to look at him, to find out who said it, I gave him the bird and waited for Bruiser to speak or move. I was ready for both.