Tank: Kings of Denver (Book 4) Read online

  Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in the centre of the ice, facing my opponent as the referee drops the puck. My stick snakes out and we scuffle for a second, fighting for the puck. I come out on top and as soon as I have that puck safely in my possession, I take off like a bat out of hell.

  I push forward with my boys right by my side, defending the puck just as they have been taught. A big fucker from the opposition comes barrelling down the ice towards me and out of all the guys on his team, he is probably the only one big enough to do any damage.

  I flick the puck across the ice to Cameron who sends it straight off to Miller just as the big fucker reaches me. I see his intention the moment before he makes his move and I have all of one second to twist this situation in my favour.

  He cuts around me and tries to throw me into the boards knowing I’m one of the biggest threats in the game and hoping to take me out early. I come to a hard stop and throw my body to the side. The dickhead completely misses me and throws himself, as hard as possible into the walls.

  I grin at the fool but don’t have time to dwell on it as he drops to the ice like the sack of shit he is. After all, I have a game to dominate and I refuse to let losers like this take me down. Besides, my wife is watching.

  The crowd is suddenly on their feet, cheering and I search out the game to see Miller is close to shooting the first goal of the night. I take in his position against the oppositions and I know without a doubt, he has this in the bag, well, depending on how good their goalie is but Miller has always had a talent for reading people.

  I watch as his stick shoots forward, sending the puck sliding across the ice. It travels straight through the centre and right between the goalie’s legs. The buzzer sounds followed by the sound of the crowd, yet Miller doesn’t stop, he loops around the back of the nets and straight for me. I prepare as quickly as I can for the idiot who leaps into the air and slams his chest into mine before tackling me to the ice.

  “You can’t say I don’t still got it, fucker,” he laughs as the rest of the boys’ pile on top of us.

  “Just you wait. The game is still new. I’ll step off this ice with twice as many goals as you.”

  “Is that a challenge?” he asks with an excited twinkle in his eye as the guys start climbing off us.

  I get to my feet and pull the dickhead up with me. “Fuck yeah, it is,” I grin.

  By the end of the game, I’m proud to say I whipped Miller ass. Well, I didn’t double his goals but I sure did beat him. Either way, we were on fire, in fact, the whole damn team was.

  The second we get the media off our heels, we head into the locker room and as expected, we’ve just started dropping our gear when that sexy-as-fuck voice is heard from the doorway. “Cover up, boys. I’m coming in.”

  My wife comes barrelling through the door and runs straight for me. She throws herself into the air and I catch her around the waist. She doesn’t waste once second before her lips are squished together with mine, creating a beautiful dance.

  “I swear that woman has a radar for half-naked men,” I hear one of the guy's mutter.

  Sophie pulls back and turns towards the voice. “Correction. I have a radar for when my husband is getting naked. The fact that the rest of you guys are doing the same is just a bonus for me.”

  “Ugh,” Miller grunts. “Please don’t tell me I’m included in that bonus?”

  “Sure are, hot stuff,” she winks.

  Miller scrunches up his face as he turns away from us and walks into the showers. “Don’t tease him like that,” I scold her.

  “I thought you liked it when I was a bad girl,” she grins.

  “Fuck, babe. I gotta get you home. Give me two seconds to shower,” I tell her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she warns me in a low, sultry voice that tells me she is dead serious. “I’m coming with you.”

  I raise my eyebrow, knowing she doesn’t mind the audience as I desperately try to think over the consequences of screwing my woman in the showers. I mean, there is one stall with a door. “You sure, babe?” I question.

  She licks her lips as her eyes become hooded. “I’ve never been so sure in my life,” she tells me “But make it fast, I need you now.”

  Fuck me.

  I don’t need much more than that as I carry my wife into the bathroom and fuck her up against the cold tiles of the locker room showers.

  Chapter 22

  Sophie

  What an amazing night. Watching my man dominate the ice and then dominate me in the locker room. Wow. Since the day I met him he has rocked my world in every possible way and here, five years later, he still manages to surprise me.

  We pull up to our home and he practically jumps out of his truck and rushes around to my side. I open my door and he scoops me out of my chair before throwing me over his shoulder and spanking my ass.

  I can’t help but giggle at this big goof-ball as I kick my legs and beg him to let me down, I mean, the guy is ginormous, if I was to fall, it would be a long way down but on the other hand, there is no way my man would put me in any real kind of danger.

  He wraps his arm firmly around my body as he uses his other hand to fish his keys out of his pocket. While he is distracted, I slip my hand down the back off his pants and grab a handful of muscled ass while I wonder if we’ll actually make it to the bedroom or not.

  As I wait for the door to open, my hand gets lower and lower and is dangerously close to somewhere that I know is going to earn me a damn spanking but I can’t help but grin, knowing how much he hates it.

  He gets the door open and I find myself flinging through the air and before I know it, I’m wrapped around his torso with my legs twined around his waist and my lips crushed to his. He kicks the door closed with his foot and walks us down the hallway.

  We come into the clearing of the lounge room when his body stiffens and he rips me off him before throwing me to my feet and stepping protectively in front of me. “What the fuck, babe?” I question as I try to move around him, only his arm shoots back and cages me in.

  “I think you’re lost,” he says in a tone that has Goosebumps raising all over my skin.

  What the fuck is going on?

  A bad feeling starts to shoot through me as I peek my head around my husband’s side and a swarm of terrifying memories come rushing back. My heart starts to race as my palms begin to sweat.

  Christian Baxter sits in my lounge room chair, the same one he had sat in all those months ago when my life changed for the worst. I never imagined in my life that things could ever get worse than what had happened that day, yet here he is again, only this time, he sits with a gun pointed directly at my husband.

  My hand instantly slips into Tanks back pocket. I pull out his phone and search for Detective Andrews number as fast as I can before pressing the call button. Fuck, I hope he answers quickly and gets a damn move on, otherwise, we’re fucked. I have no idea how we could possibly come out on top in this situation but I know I’m not going down without a fight. There is no way I’m letting this low-life get away with harming my family again, not if I have anything to do with it.

  Christian’s chilling voice rings out through the room. “I think I’m exactly where I need to be,” he says before directing his dead eyes on me. “I warned you, Sophie but you wanted to play with fire.”

  Tank subtly moves so that his body hides me from Christian’s view. “You need to leave,” Tank says in warning.

  “Really?” Christian asks with an amused tone in his voice. “You think you’re in a position to be making requests?”

  I hear that tell-tale squeak of the lounge that tells me he is now standing. Tank moves his body slightly and I realise Baxter must be moving about the lounge room. Tank ignores his comments as he takes a small step forward. I glue myself to his back, knowing that’s exactly where he wants me even though the thought of getting closer to that monster terrifies me but my gut tells me Tank is trying to get as close as he can so he can disarm
him.

  If Baxter notices Tank’s movement, he doesn’t mention it. “You know it’s funny,” Christian says. “I was out of town when I got the message there was a warrant out for my arrest. My home was ransacked and then my office.”

  “Hmm,” Tank scoffs. “Must be a strange concept for you.” I almost want to high five my husband for the amount of balls it must take to make a snide comment like that to a man wielding a gun but then at the same time, I want to throat punch him for being so stupid.

  Baxter ignores him and Tank takes the opportunity to take another step forward. Once again, I follow as closely as I can, hoping to God, Detective Andrews answered the phone.

  “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you, Sophie,” he says. “Why don’t you step forward and take responsibility for your actions rather than making me go through your husband.”

  I don’t say a word, knowing that would only piss Tank off. “You’re in this situation because you murdered three men and then went after my wife,” Tank says as he takes another step forward. “Why don’t you take responsibility for your actions and hand yourself in.”

  “Why don’t you step out of the way so I can deal with your bitch of a wife, once and for all,” he snaps at Tank.

  I can almost hear the smirk in Tank’s voice. “You’re fucking delusional if you think I’d ever do that.”

  “Fine by me,” Christian says in a tone that sends shivers straight down my spine. Something tells me this is it. That Detective Andrews is too late and I’m about to lose my husband. I step out from behind Tank and notice the gun pointed directly at him. Baxter’s eyes follow my movements but mine follow the massive man who launches himself clear across the room and tackles Baxter to the ground.

  A scream comes tearing up my throat as they scuffle on the lounge room floor. Tank manages to get the gun from Baxter’s hand and tosses it across the room.

  I run as fast as I can and chase the gun as it slides across the tiled floor. I grab it and turn it on Baxter but my hands begin to shake. I’ve never held a gun before and I can honestly say, it’s not something I ever want to do again.

  “Stop it,” I scream as the two men continue to scuffle on the ground, completely oblivious to the fact that I now hold the gun. Either that or neither believe I’m actually a true threat with this thing.

  I watch as Tank finally gets through and nails him hard with a punch to the jaw that has Baxter’s head flying backward. The blow looks as though it should have knocked him out or at least stopped him but it’s like he doesn’t even notice it.

  They continue on and I watch on in fear as tears fall from my eyes. When will this stop?

  My husband's pained curse has my eyes focusing harder as Baxter lets out a laugh. My eyes roam all over Tanks body but I don’t understand what caused his cry until his body goes limp and he falls to the side clutching his stomach with blood seeping between his fingers.

  It’s then I notice the knife in Baxter’s hand and the evil smirk plastered across his face as he attempts to get to his feet.

  My eyes flick back to my husband who is currently bleeding out on our lounge room floor. “Run,” he demands but I can’t move. Baxter begins to stalk me but my feet remain glued to the floor. Anger lingers in Tanks eyes but he must know that I won’t leave this house without him. There’s just no way in hell.

  Baxter takes another step closer with the knife held steady in his hand. “I warned you, Sophie,” he says before indicating to Tank who watches on in fear. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  “Stop,” I demand as I point the gun more firmly at him.

  He smirks at me as though I’m some misbehaved child playing with something I shouldn’t be touching yet somehow, that’s exactly how I feel. He continues stalking me with the blood-stained knife which drips Tanks blood all over my lounge room floor. “You won’t do it,” he practically laughs. “You don’t have the guts.”

  I take a hesitant step backward as I begin to question myself. I don’t want to pull the trigger but I have no choice. It’s either me or him and I can guarantee, if he is the survivor in this situation, he won’t be saving my husband.

  He spins the knife in his hand and the blade catches in the light, displaying just how deadly the weapon truly is as blood spatters across the room. He takes another step. “I’m going to finish you, Sophie Meyers, just like I should have the first time,” he taunts with a sick grin.

  Tears continue rolling down my eyes as the nausea hits. This fucker is truly going to kill me. I back up another step and he takes another. I see the decision in his dark eyes and watch as he begins to make his move.

  In a split second, I watch as his arm winds back and his knees bend. “Now, Sophie,” Tank demands from across the room, using whatever ounce of energy he has left.

  I don’t hesitate.

  The gun rings out and echoes through my head. Baxter drops to the ground as my ears scream in protest. I quickly look at Baxter to make sure he is well and truly down which is when his screams start. He latches onto his chest and I’m almost certain I’ve punctured his lung, but I just don’t care.

  My eyes move across the room to Tank who now lays motionless on the floor.

  "No," I whimper.

  With the gun still firmly in my hands, I sprint across the room and drop down at Tanks side. The gun clatters to the floor beside me as I press my hands to Tank’s wound, attempting to stop the bleeding but the blood just seeps through my fingers like an endless stream.

  I hear the front door being kicked in and someone calling out ‘Police’ but I ignore their advances as Tanks eyes begin to close. “No,” I cry. “Stay with me. I can’t do this without you.”

  Sobs begin ripping up my throat as Detective Andrews drops down beside me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Sophie. Let me take over,” he demands.

  “Where’s the ambulance? I need an ambulance?” I yell.

  Someone grabs me and moves me out of the way so the police can start their first aid but I don’t let them take me far as I hold onto Tank’s lifeless body. “Don’t you dare leave me, Tank,” I demand as the sobs completely take over. “Open your eyes. Please, open your eyes.”

  Soon enough the ambulance arrives and it’s a blur of activity as we rush to the hospital. The trip could have taken two minutes or it could have been half-an-hour. I’ll never be sure. All I know is that I haven’t taken my eyes off my husband’s body. The only type of relief I have is the very slow beep coming from the heart rate monitor telling me that for now, he is still holding on.

  The moment we arrive at the hospital, Tank is whisked away and I’m left behind in the waiting room with nothing but my thoughts. My head drops low into my hands and before I know it, I’m surrounded by friends and family. Though, I have absolutely no idea how they knew to come. Maybe I called them. Maybe I didn’t. I don’t know.

  I sit in a mess of tears as Dani holds onto my hand with every last ounce of strength she possesses. He can’t leave me. He’s going to make it. Tank is the strongest man I have ever met, I just know he will be ok, otherwise, I don’t know how I’m going to survive.

  A thought crosses my mind that if he were to leave me, at least he’d be up there with our son but I’m not ready for that. Not even close. I’m selfish enough to need to keep him here with me.

  My eyes continue looking up at the clock, watching the hours tick by. My nerves get the best of me and I stand from the chair I’ve spent the last five hours in and begin pacing the room. Doctors and nurses come in and out of the room and each and every time, I hold my breath waiting for them to call my name but it never comes.

  And then finally…

  Finally, a doctor comes through the doors, seven hours after arriving and calls my name. “Mrs. Meyers?” he questions the packed waiting room.

  I practically sprint to the doctor, desperate for answers. “You’re Tyler Meyers wife?” he confirms.

  “Yes,” I nearly shout at him.

  “Ok,
why don’t you take a seat?” he asks as he motions to the available chairs beside us. I hastily take a seat, trying not to yell at him to get on with it.

  I wait impatiently as he lowers his exhausted self into the space beside me. He lets out a breath before getting started. “So, your husband is now out of surgery and is doing well.” Instant relief takes over me that I have to force myself to pay attention. “He suffered quite serious blood loss that we needed to restart his heart three times, however, he is one hell of a strong man and has a lot of fight in him.”

  He goes on to discuss the types of internal injuries that were sustained and how they were rectified. I listen intently as to not miss a thing and when he finally says that I can go and sit with him, I throw my arms around the good doctor.

  “Thank you so much,” I say as I cry onto his shoulder.

  “No need to thank me, sweetheart,” he says as he gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s what I’m here for.”

  With that, the doctor disappears through the door and I follow on until I find a nurse who can give me directions to the recovery ward.

  I push my way through his door and instantly find myself sitting at his bedside with his hand held firmly in mine, begging for him to wake up so I can see those eyes I thought I may never see again.

  An hour later, his hand twitches in mine and my eyes instantly roam over his handsome face. His eyes begin to open and it feels like all my Christmases have come at once. A tear escapes my eye as I lean in closer to my husband.

  “Tank?” I whisper into the quiet room, desperate for this wait to be over.

  He turns his head towards me and squeezes my hand with the faintest smile gracing those perfect lips. “Don’t cry, baby,” he says. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

  Tears of joy spring from my eyes as I look at my moronic husband. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” I sob.

  He lifts his hand out of mine and gently wipes my tears with his thumb. “Are you ok?” he questions.