Clover took a deep breath through his nose. “So what? I’m supposed to just let some asshole call me your boy toy just ‘cause I’m small? It’s not fair, and it’s disrespectful to all of us.”
Tank cupped Clover’s face. “I’m sure you’ve learned in the twenty years you’ve lived that life isn’t fair. And respect is something you gotta earn. You’ve got mine, but you still lost a bit in my eyes by the way you lashed out. You promised me you’ll stay back, but when push came to shove, you didn’t. I’ve got to trust you if we’re to work together, and right now, I’m not sure I can.”
The hurt look in Clover’s eyes cut deep, but Tank wouldn’t let it show. The boy had to learn his lesson.
“But he’s a bad guy. I could see that. Anyone could see that,” Clover tried, grabbing at Tank’s wrist.
His fingers were delicate, and Tank couldn’t resist them. He exhaled, frustrated that getting through to Clover about this proved so hard. It certainly didn’t help that the boy was surrounded by enablers, who should know better.
“You never know who’s a bad guy. We had a deal that you stay back, and you haven’t kept that promise. The fact that we found something out because of it is just blind luck.”
Clover groaned, back to his attitude despite still touching Tank and standing close to him. “He was shady as fuck.”
Tank rolled his eyes. Was this what actual parents of teenagers had to deal with all the time? Thank fuck Clover was a good boy on most days, because in moments like this Tank was reminded how young Clover still was. “You know who else was shady as fuck when I met him? Your buddy Drake.”
Clover groaned. “What could he have possibly done to you? You met seven years ago, and he told me himself that at my age he was taller but not much bigger than me in terms of muscle.”
Tank sighed. Clover was calmer now, so maybe it would be easier to get through to his stubborn head. “Yeah, but he hit on me in a bar. That’s how we met. Nice guy. Handsome, even if not my usual type. And you know what happened next?”
He had all of Clover’s attention now. Big blue eyes focused on him as if Tank had offered to feed him ambrosia. So Drake hadn’t shared details of how he’d met Tank with the boy either.
“What?”
Tank hummed, unsure if he should be completely truthful, but Clover knew Drake well enough to take it the right way. “He tried to distract me”—with a blowjob—“but he had a blade on him. And I noticed it in the last moment. This nice, handsome guy was there to kill me.”
Clover stared, gripping Tank’s hand as if the story was about to become his next TV addiction. “Why? And what happened?”
Tank snorted. “I stepped on the toes of the wrong person, and he sent Drake to assassinate me, since I was gay. I didn’t expect this. I did not know Drake was shady. But when I overpowered him, I also found out he wasn’t just any honeypot. He wasn’t there because he wanted to be. He wasn’t even getting paid for taking me out. My first thought was to get rid of him. Send a message. But he didn’t deserve that, so I offered him help instead. And seven years later, look where we are. If I trusted my gut, not my brain, Drake wouldn’t be here. Do you see my point? Killing isn’t a computer game. Every person carries a story, and sure, sometimes doing bad shit is necessary, but you can’t just randomly decide who to off based on a feeling.”
Clover listened. He finally stopped interrupting or making those silly, stubborn faces. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like an idiot. He put me on the spot. But it’s not an excuse,” he added quickly. “I should have known better.”
Tank hesitated, still angry about the whole mess, but eventually pulled Clover to his chest. “I forgive you, but it’s more important to me that you actually think next time. Make it so there’s no need for excuses, okay?” he asked, sliding his hands to Clover’s face before kissing the warm, quivering lips.
He wasn’t even angry anymore, just worried what consequences time might bring. Hadn’t they killed the hag who wanted Clover in her collection?
“You think it could be Jerry? Looking for revenge or something?” Clover looked to Tank for answers he didn’t have.
“Does he use the codename Darwin?”
Clover shook his head. “Not that I know.”
Tank wasn’t sure what to tell him, but a strange, dull roar made him step from behind the van instead. And he wasn’t the only one to hear it, because even the policeman taking Boar’s testimony leaned back, staring at Pete’s truck.