It didn’t stop the fact that … their meeting might not have been an accident.
“That doubting shit,” Locke said. “Isn’t good.”
“You don’t know Bell like I do. She’s not like that,” Tank said.
“Be careful,” Lord said. “I’ll trust your judgment because you’ve never been led astray by your dick, unlike half of the men here.”
There was a small uproar of protest, but it didn’t last long.
“Stay on guard. We’ll deal with the Skull Nation as soon as they arrive.” Lord slammed his gavel down on the table, dismissing the group.
Tank got to his feet and made his way outside, heading toward his bike. He wanted to be anywhere else, sick of the accusations and sideways glances.
“Whoa, dude,” Brick said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Look, Locke meddles, okay? So does Tarmac.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t meddle?” he asked.
Brick snorted. “Of course, I meddle. Meddling is like mymiddle name. If you believe this woman, then that’s all I need.”
Tank did believe Bell. She had no reason to lie to him, but for the sake of his club, he wasn’t willing to risk it. She was working at the diner on a double shift. The morning and afternoon ones.
Her apartment would be free for him to snoop.
Straddling his bike, he started her up and ignored Brick as the man coughed, stepping back.
He’d been suspicious of Bell, but he hadn’t truly acted on it because he’d enjoyed her company. There was nothing scary or frightening about her.
Tank arrived at her apartment, and per the agreement with her landlord, he already had his own key. Money made things happen, legal or not.
Entering the building wasn’t hard, and he took the steps, heading toward her door. After sliding the key into the lock, he flicked it open, and her room was bright from the morning sunlight.
He closed the door behind him and stepped into Bell’s domain.
The apartment smelled like vanilla. It wasn’t a great place, but she’d made the most of it. There was only scant, mismatched furniture. The sofa was threadbare, but she’d shoved throws and decorative pillows to hide most of it. He had more furniture in his room back at the clubhouse. She didn’t have any pictures. No trinkets.
After paying her rent, the landlord had told him that Bell was a hard worker but with the worst of luck. There had been a couple of times Bell had nearly been evicted. She always paid her rent though. The landlord believed she did go hungry in order to do it.
Entering her bedroom, he saw she didn’t even have a bed, just a mattress on the floor.
Her wardrobe consisted of a metal pole stand with a few items on hangers.
Her home was lived in, but what he came to see was that Bell survived. She had nothing to hide. Now he felt so fucking stupid. The club had gotten into his head, and he’d doubted her.
Or was Locke right and she was ready to sell out to get herself out of the gutter? No, she was just a young woman struggling to survive, nothing more.
After leaving her apartment, he closed and locked the door behind him, whistling as he made his way outside. He climbed on his bike and rode all the way toward the diner, which was in fact busy with the breakfast crowd as he arrived.
He entered and glanced at all the customers. Some seemed to withdraw into themselves while others stared at him with open curiosity. He didn’t care and found the only available seat at the front of the counter.
Bell was running back and forth, carrying plates and drinks, and taking orders. She hadn’t even noticed him yet, but he saw how hard-working she was. She constantly shoved the pencil behind her ear and stashed her notebook in her front pocket.
He couldn’t take his gaze away from her. She was so stunning as she smiled at all the customers, greeting them with kindness. He saw how the regulars adored her, especially the elderly ones. They’d offer her a smile, trying to help her keep up.
She passed him several times without seeing him, and then, when it got slow, she seemed to realize he was there.