Tanner's War by Amber Morgan

all her life. For Tanner to take her
now, when she was hurting and vulnerable …Yeah. Not okay.
    “Maybe I should go back to bed,”
Beth said, running her fingers through her hair. “That beer’s hitting me pretty
hard.” She managed a weak smile.
    Tanner didn’t want her to go. He
wanted her to stay out here, even if they did nothing, said nothing. He wanted
to know she was right by his side, safe and … and his . He groaned. “Yeah,” he said, “please go to bed. If you stay
out here, I’m going to do something really inappropriate.”
    He didn’t watch her go, certain
he’d see hurt or shame on her face and equally certain he couldn’t take that.
He’d grab her, kiss her rough and hard, and make her belong to him. And that
would be no better than what the motherfucker back at the Church had wanted to
do.
    He heard the mill door open and
close, and then open again. He turned to tell her to
go, only to find himself facing Wolf, the newest patch holder of the MC. The
tip of Wolf’s cigarette glowed in the darkness, giving Tanner an instant
craving. “Spare one?” he asked.
    Wolf offered him a roll-up. The
old-rope scent of his tobacco wiped out the sweet smell of Beth, and Tanner
felt a little of his tension slide away. Not enough, not nearly enough, but it
helped.
    “You okay, man?” Wolf came to lean
against the wall next to him. “Rattler said you had lady troubles.”
    “Fuck Rattler and his big fucking
mouth. He doesn’t know a goddamn thing, as usual.” Tanner clenched his fists
and wondered if Wolf would go a few rounds with him. The other guy was a mean
fighter and he liked to brawl just for the hell of it. Didn’t
have to be anything official, just two guys throwing down for fun. “You
heading down to the cages tonight?” he asked him.
    Wolf shrugged. “Got no plans,” he
said in his faded Cajun drawl. “Figured I’d just smoke a joint and call it a
night, to be honest.”
    Tanner cracked his bloodied
knuckles. “ Wanna earn that smoke? Throw down a little
first?”
    Wolf cocked his head to one side.
“What’s on your mind, brother?”
    “Does there have to be anything? Just got some nervous energy to burn.” Tanner rolled his
shoulders. “What’s up? Scared you’ll lose?”
    Wolf grinned slowly. He took a long
drag on his cigarette and tossed it away. “All right. Let’s go.”
    Tanner threw his own smoke away and
followed Wolf down the steps and onto the gravel. The bikes and trucks made a
rough, natural ring for them, and there was enough light cast from the windows
of the mill that he could see Wolf’s feral smile as they squared off.
    Tanner didn’t think of himself as a
violent man. You could justify anything to yourself if you really wanted to. He
didn’t enjoy fighting because he liked pain and punishment; he liked the
exercise and the competition. He wasn’t angry because his dad abandoned him and
his mom couldn’t cope; he was just a live-wire kinda guy, full of … yeah … nervous energy. He didn’t like the crunch of his fist in
someone else’s face because he was a bad guy; he liked righting wrongs, meting
out justice. And he was always justified. There was always some reason it was
okay to hit the other guy. At least with Wolf and in the cages, the reason was
that they’d agreed to it.
    Wolf was fast and wiry, smaller
than Tanner, but deceptively vicious. He didn’t give Tanner time to warm up or
get the measure of him, no feints or testing jabs. He just spat in the dirt and
launched himself, driving his fist into Tanner’s gut. Tanner staggered back and
replied with an uppercut, aiming for Wolf’s jaw but catching him in the
shoulder when Wolf dodged. Tanner immediately swung in with his other fist and
slammed it into Wolf’s stomach. When Wolf doubled over, gasping for air, Tanner
brought his elbow down on the top of his head.
    Wolf landed on his ass, but jumped
up quickly, shaking it off. “Elbows are illegal, dude.”
    “You see a referee?”