Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 89

Tank POV

Needing somewhere quiet and out of the way to talk to Bruiser, I led him into my room, walked to my mini fridge and handed him a beer, grabbed two more beers, and then led him out to the small balcony, where I have two chairs.

We sat staring out into the compound for a while, just sipping our beer. Bruiser finished one, and I handed him another. He wasn’t ready to talk, and I wasn’t sure where to start.

“Do you think she’s right?” Bruiser broke the silence first, asking the question that had been on my mind.

“Yeah, Max notices more than most people, and works through what she sees and hears in her head before she speaks about it. I think she had to learn to read people to stay alive. How do you feel about that? Relieved no baby? Or relieved that maybe you can get some understanding of what’s going on in Cricket’s head?” I asked, staring at my beer. I am not a guy who talks to guys like this. Prez said to step up and be there for the club, the men, and ladies, give them what he can’t or won’t. I think this was part of the pep talk he gave me.

“Yeah, she’s perfect for you, for the club.” he paused to think.

“Cricket must be in a lot of pain. I had been blaming myself, thinking I had been too harsh. With all that had been happening lately, she was not getting much attention from me. I misread the signals. We had argued a lot since the camp, about silly things, then when Prez exploded at Sticks, something he never does, I knew something was off with the ladies, but I couldn’t figure out what. Regarding the baby, I had adjusted to the idea of becoming a father and was actually starting to look forward to the little tyke’s arrival.”

“Don’t blame yourself, you did nothing wrong. If Cricket didn’t let you in, that was on her, not you. You’re not a mind reader.”

“She would say she’s fine, not to worry about it, things will sort themselves out. But it kept getting worse, and I kept growling at her, for her interference, for her snarly comments. I thought she was jealous of Max, but I couldn’t figure out why. Max had done nothing wrong.” I handed Briuser my last beer; he needed it more than I did.

“You need to talk, get it in the open, and sort out how you feel from there.” I encouraged, before taking a sip of my beer.

“Cricket’s my woman, that won’t change unless she wants to leave. We can try for another baby, if that’s what she wants, but no pressure from me; if it happens, it happens. I like the old Cricket back, the fun-loving, laughing woman, I gave my cut to.”

His phone rang, stopping our conversation. It had taken nearly two hours to reach this far, and I didn’t like the interruption.

“Got to go, that was Max, she was right,” Bruiser said, downing the last of his beer, before standing and stretching, arching his back.

“My ceremony tomorrow, bring a big smile to it.” I clapped him on his back, sending him on his way.

I put the cans in the recycle bin, another little thing that Max introduced, saying we are throwing money away, so now we have a person collecting the cans and bottles, and once a week, taking them to the recycling place, getting the receipt, and handing the money and receipt to Zero, who puts it in the till. Yeah we have an account on the till, that Zero keeps tabs on who had what, and the money was collected each week, if the club pays you, it comes out of your wages before you get it, if you work outside, you get a reminder from Zero, by text to come and pay up, so far it had been working, only time we don’t bill, was if we had a party for some important reason. Like tomorrow’s ceremony.

Max enters our room, looking sad.

“Hey.” I pulled her to me and held on tight. She was shaking, and then the tears broke. I picked her up and carried her out to the balcony, sitting back in the chair I had just vacated, and let her cry. This must have been harder on her than I had thought. Most see the confident Max, and not the more vulnerable side, not unless she lets you in, that is. Max would rather hide and cry than let anyone see it, maybe part of her childhood defences.

I rocked back and forth, kissing her hair.

Resting back in the chair, I rub Max’s back in a soothing motion, kissing his head occasionally, thinking about today, and what we had done and seen. We missed dinner, but I don’t think Max would care about missing food. But she had faced a lot, and I believe her sister shook her up a bit, seeing her for the first time since she was kicked out of her home.

The sister didn’t look pregnant, didn’t have the glow that pregnant women often have, and she was skinny as a beanpole, with a flat tummy for someone who was at least five months pregnant.

I think Max was right in this one, but did she lose it, or was she never pregnant in the first place?

We have had so much trauma lately, and the test of strength, challenged, on the whole, we’ve done all right.

The bonfire was lit tonight. I can see the glow of the flames from here, happy that the wind was blowing the other way, taking the smoke away from the clubhouse, and me, I didn’t want to move just yet, I liked sitting here holding Max, tomorrow was going to be busy, with our celebration.

Can’t wait for her to see the cut and her new name. I am proud of the work I have done on it. Best one yet, if I don’t mind saying.

Plus, she was going to do the tattoo in front of everyone, as she put her new name on my skin, and mine on hers. I am interested in seeing how she manages to tattoo herself, and where; we hadn’t gone into details.

Can’t wait for tomorrow.

I sighed and stood up, carefully not to wake Max, and placed her on the bed, removed her boots and jeans, shucked off mine too, and climbed in behind her.