Hawke (12 page)

Enough to make her breaths stop.

Enough to make
time
stop.

Fuck, she was sexy.

She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes for a moment to the feel of him. The look wound him right up. Warmth spread from his head down to his fucking toes. He wanted her.

Wanted.

When was the last time he wanted someone so bad?

Never.

Not like this.

Fuck again and again
.

“You wanna know why you’re horny?” he asked her, running his teeth over his bottom lip as he looked her sexy body over and, fuck, she had an ass. “It’s because you’re still firing with adrenaline. You’re wound up tight and you’re sensitive all over. You’re on a hair trigger, and your sweet pussy’s throbbing for a release. And you wanna know what happens after you orgasm, darlin’?”

She didn’t respond. She just stared at him, waiting.

“You feel dirty,” he said. “And you regret it. Because then you don’t know if the fucked up situation hours ago excited you, or made you lose your mind.”

“Hawke –”

“Maybe when you’re thinkin’ straight you’ll be sure.”

“Hawke –”

“But right now, you ain’t sure.”

He removed his hand from between her legs and set her down on the mattress, her face pressed against his jacket again. She immediately turned her body away from him. She was embarrassed. Or disappointed. He didn’t know what. All he knew was he wasn’t going to fuck a girl after he’d murdered some tool in front of her.

Hawke was fucked up, sure.

But not
that
fucked up.

“You get some sleep now, Tyler,” he forced out.

It took a surprising amount of willpower for him to turn around and leave.

Hawke

He paced the hallway outside his room eighty-seven times. That wasn’t a guess either – he’d fucking counted.

Eighty. Seven. Times.

He was wound up. His dick hadn’t softened, his mind still raced with images of her vulnerable eyes, and his hand tingled from the touch of her pussy.

And it had been his
injured
hand too.

Nobody – especially a woman – had ever touched his injured hand without cringing.

Ty hadn’t even flinched… and it did his head in.

This was Tyler.

TYLER, YOU DIPSHIT!

Not some random bit of fluff that he wouldn’t think twice about fucking and discarding. That’s what they’d all wanted, wasn’t it? To be used without commitment, without question, without expectation for more.

Tyler wouldn’t be like that, though. She’d latch – he saw it in that fucking stare – and that’s why he needed out of here right now.

It was like this every time he saw her, and every time he was taken aback by how stunning she was. It was maddening, and he’d find himself going through the mental steps trying to convince himself to walk away and not let her sweet wanting eyes make him weak enough to take her.

But tonight was especially difficult.

Because tonight she’d made the move.

Out of desperation and vulnerability, sure, but she’d done it nonetheless, revealing her want in a bold manner that triggered every primitive urge in him.

He tried to make it work in his head. What would it mean to taste Tyler? How far would he be willing to go? But every time he thought it, he’d hit that motherfucking roadblock. Wanting her meant staying, and staying was out of the question.

Finally, after an agonizing hour, he left. Sleep wasn’t going to come, not after Yuri and Tyler. Too much adrenaline coursed through his veins. He needed to get back to New Raven – to Borden and the guys. Maybe they’d figure something out with Abram. Borden always had the best plans.

But as he cruised down main street, memories flooded him. He past shops he was familiar with: the barber shop his old man frequented with him by his side; a club owned strip club that Gus organized Hawke’s first lap dance at with some strawberry blonde babe by the name of Cherry (and Cherry died of a drug overdose a year later); a salon that had once been a diner they’d ended up shooting up when the owner skimmed off their slice of the pie (that was the first time he’d confronted violence and he had been fourteen years old and armed with a pistol his father had given him upon instructing him to “learn to be man”).

Hawke felt nostalgic. Sticking around had never been the plan. He’d usually showed up to the clubhouse and then left right away, and while he knew the shit with Abram needed to be sorted out, something about Tyler struck a chord in him. He felt reluctant about leaving her, and he couldn’t understand the emotion coursing through him. Curiosity about her? Temptation to be near her after he’d seen her naked and touched her pussy in bed? Or maybe it was just Yuri’s request fucking his head up.

He didn’t know for sure, but he thought about it as he roamed the quiet streets, down neighborhoods and parks. Norwich was a pretty little town now. Not so much a dump anymore, though he noticed the south end was still packed with homeless people sleeping in tents on the side of the road.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stop his bike in front of the motel room where life took a strange turn. It was a night he had tried very hard to forget, though it niggled at the back of his mind every single time he thought of Tyler.

Leaning back on his bike, he took a deep breath, staring at the room Dennis had died in. It had been the night he’d begged Hawke to care for Tyler right before he choked on his blood and died.

Take care.

Take care of her.

I took it.

I took.

Don’t trust.

Don’t trust.

Don’t…

There was never a day that had gone by that Hawke never thought of those words.

Tyler had been thrust into his life forcefully and without question, but now he was beginning to realize just how ingrained she was in his world.

Because he didn’t want to see her out of it anytime soon.

Tyler

I woke up in the stillness, feeling like last night was a thousand miles away. I was pretty sure my mind had built a wall, eager and desperate to bury the blood and fear I’d experienced. The last time it’d done this was when my father died, and now I felt like I was putting another event inside that box I never wanted to reopen. Regardless, whatever my brain was doing, it was working, and I didn’t want to leave the quiet peace I was in.

My head was a lot clearer. The adrenaline and tension had washed from my limbs, and I felt malleable and limp. For a while, I floated in semi-consciousness, my face still pressed against Hawke’s jacket.

Hawke.

Hawke rejected you
.

That was the first clear thought that entered my mind when I finally opened my eyes. The second thought was,

God, what was I thinking making him touch me like that?

I was suddenly embarrassed at myself. I didn’t know why I did that, or why the urge to be touched was stronger than ever. I threw the covers over me and groaned into my pillow. How would I face him? That’s not something you could easily brush off.

I lay like that for a while under the covers; it was my version of a black hole I could crawl into. Then I heard the door creak open, and footsteps approached. My eyes immediately shot open, and I tensed, wondering if it was Hawke.

“Sweets, are you up?”

The tension dissipated. It was Jesse.

“Hmm,” I groaned back.

The bed sank and his arm dug beneath the covers, finding my frame. “You alright?” he asked me, running his hand down my bare arm.

“Mhm,” I returned, not in the mood to speak.

“You gonna stay in today?”

“What?”

“It’s back to work for you,” he explained softly. “But you can take the day off. I would understand. I just wanted to know because I’m down there getting ready –”

“I’m coming,” I cut in, my voice stronger.

I felt him pause before he peeled the covers off of me. His blue eyes met mine, and goodness, they were particularly bluer than usual. His hair was a mess, like he’d just gotten out of bed and came stumbling to my room like I was his first priority. He was wearing just his black briefs, his built tattooed chest and pierced nipples in plain view, inches from my face. It was a wanted distraction, but not one that stirred any warm feelings in the pit of me the way Hawke did.

Jesse looked at me closely, studying me with this perplexed look on his face. “You sure?” he asked, biting at the piercing on his bottom lip.

I nodded. “I’ll be down there in thirty.”

He nodded back. “I’ll get ready then and wait for you outside.”

He got up and moved slowly out of the room, tossing back a glance over his shoulders at me. “If you need anything before then, let me know,” he added right before he disappeared.

Typical of Jesse to want to be there for me, and I should have asked him to stay so I could explain the heavy feeling in my chest I was carrying from last night, but I didn’t want to burden him with it. He’d just order me to stay and the clubhouse was the last place I currently wanted to be.

I needed work.

I needed to put my head down and forget.

I was thinking of all that when my phone rang off its tits. I groaned again, grabbing it off the night stand and opened my eyes to read the name on the screen.

Mother.

I frowned and ended the phone call. Five seconds later it erupted again. Christ, she was persistent. I’d been dodging our monthly call for days now, and really, the best thing to do was get it out of the way.

Glaring at the phone, I finally answered it. “Hello?”

“Tyler, this is Mom,” she said, her voice already slurred and it was…what, eight in the morning?

“Yeah, I know that, Mom. I don’t know why you always tell me that.”

“In case you forget my voice.”

“Believe me, nobody forgets your voice.”

She ignored my bitter tone. “You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Well, I just wondered when you could come around and meet Paul.”

“Who?”

“My other half. I met him at the church and he is the one, Tyler.”

“You go to church?”

“They had this free baking event on, and I love that religious bitch’s cupcakes from down the block. It’s great how they let anyone in, isn’t it? I just have to make the sign of the cross and they’re forgiving me and shit.”

“That’s not morally right, you know that?”

“Fuck morals. You know better than anyone else that’s not how we lived.”

“Dad would never have crashed a church and made the sign of the cross to get free baked shit.”

“Honey, Gandhi would have cut a bitch for those cupcakes. On that note, your fuckin’ father really messed up my reputation.”

“You were a stripper when you met him, Mother.”

“And then I moved to High Gate to start over and live an elegant life.”

“On his dime working for the club.”

“Look I’m not complaining. It’s not all bad. When people look the other way, it just makes it easier to steal, am I right?”

She cackled on the other end and I just…didn’t say a word. Like…what could be said?

People harped on and on about a low life father being a sperm donor, but I had yet to hear an equivalent term for the mothers who didn’t give a fuck.

“Womb donor?” I whispered under my breath, wondering if that worked. Or… “Egg donor? Fallopian tube donor?”

“What?” she asked, confused. “Are you drunk?”

“Uh, no, because that would mean I’m an alcoholic if I’m drunk by eight in the morning, wouldn’t it, Mother?” I said pointedly. “I’m just trying to figure out an all-encompassing word to define your parenting. I’m reflecting on your qualities, things like being an absentee mom who only cares about her tequila and calls me up to tout her good news but never asking me what is going on in my life. That sort of thing. Do you have any suggestions, Mother?”

“Fuck you, Tyler Wilson, you’re just like your father.”

I nodded. “Your compliments are so sweet, per usual.”

“That’s not a compliment. He was an unfaithful jackass.”

“You fucked my karate instructor.”

“How the hell do you know about that?”

“Because you forced me to watch fucking Maury of all shows in my karate suit while you took him into the next room!”

“Why are you talking to me like that?” She suddenly played the victim card the second I cornered her about something she couldn’t get out of. “I was a struggling mother. I had no shoulder to lean on! How dare you? Turning into an animal like the rest of those chimps at that club.”

“Great, well, wow, this was a great conversation. I look forward to having it again next month with Christopher being the one instead of Patrick.”

“Paul!” she screamed.

“Have a good day, Mother dearest.”

I hung up and angrily threw the phone back on the night stand. It slid off and landed on the floor. Ugh.

It took everything in me to finally throw the covers off and slide out of bed. I took a quick shower, scrubbing myself everywhere and feeling horrified to find I was still sensitive and throbbing between my legs. I was half-tempted to take care of myself, but just as I brushed my fingers along my clit, pleasure formed along with nausea. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t masturbate when my body still shook from the aftermath. I let out a few tears, trying to shake off that immobilizing fear, and made the water hotter so my muscles didn’t tense so much. When I finished, I dug up my grey work overalls and threw it on. I avoided looking at the pink rag on the counter, opting to stare at myself in the mirror instead. I cringed at my raccoon eyes. Now I not only felt forlorn, I looked every bit of it too.

It was pitiful.

This was all Yuri’s fault. If he hadn’t pulled out that gun, he wouldn’t have died and I wouldn’t be feeling traumatized. Selfish bastard. Something about him niggled at the back of my head, though. His demand to have me just didn’t make sense, and I knew Hawke was aware of it.

Again, the rejection ran through my mind, and I swallowed a groan. Humiliating. So, so humiliating.

Move on, Ty. So what if he rejected you? He’s a fugitive and his beard is ridiculous.

That pep talk worked, and I began to feel a little better.

I tried applying a medium coverage of foundation on my face, but gave up two seconds in. I couldn’t pretend to give a shit what I looked like. So I skipped that step and lazily removed my pink nail polish and trimmed my nails short until there was barely anything left of them.
This was always the sucky part: finishing another theory block in the classroom and then returning to the grime of the auto repair shop. I was always gone just long enough that my hands were back to feeling smooth as silk.

I did my make-up, tied my hair up, and then sat on the toilet seat for a very long time, trying to breathe through the distress that made my heart squeeze and my breaths short and fast.

Yuri’s dead and you’re alive. It happened. It’s over. Move on.

I walked out of the bedroom. The clubhouse was still. This was the only time of day it wasn’t noisy as hell. All the bedroom doors I passed were shut. I stopped at Hector’s room and knocked. When I didn’t get an answer, I opened the door and glimpsed in.

I rolled my eyes at the sight: Hector butt naked on his stomach with Shay’s naked body sprawled over his back, cradling him like he was her lifeline. He must have been desperate for a lay because he knew how clingy she was and he’d claimed on more than one occasion that she did little to push his buttons. Regardless I knew the drill: he’d toss her out the room the second he opened his eyes, but she’d carry on wanting his babies and striking when he was desperate to get his dick wet again.

This place was a broken record sometimes.

“Hector,” I whispered to him, still standing in the doorway.

He didn’t budge. I moved into the room, tiptoeing quietly. I stepped over articles of their clothing they’d aimlessly tossed around them. I tried not to snoop too hard, but really, it was hard when his used condoms were haphazardly strewn in plain sight and I didn’t want to fucking step on one.

I should have worn a hazmat suit for this shit.

“Hector,” I whispered again, shaking him by the shoulder. “You told me to come to you for the ointment.”

I shook him a few more times, but he still didn’t wake up, much less move. Jesus, how much had he had to drink?

On a sigh, I went to his bathroom (it was a goddamn bombsite) and searched his cupboards instead. I found a container of ointment under the sink and I tucked it in my pocket, wondering how I was going to apply it myself. Jesse would have to do it. I hurried out seconds later and strode down the hallway.

Jonny wasn’t in the living room anymore, hallelujah, but I did notice the head of Mercy, a black mutt the club had adopted years ago. He was a vicious motherfucker, and his name had little to do with his personality. When Mercy was around strangers and he felt threatened, the last thing he showed was mercy, but I guess that was the joke. I patted his head once on my way to the kitchen and he lazily wagged his tail in response. Our merciless beast had a soft spot for me, probably because I smuggled him treats more than what was allowed.

“Where you goin’?” a voice sounded.

I jumped and spun around. It took me a moment in the dark to find where Hawke’s voice had come from. He was seated on the couch recliner in the corner, arms crossed. He looked tired as hell, like he too hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“I didn’t see you in here,” I said quietly, my cheeks warming up quickly thinking of last night. “Could have taken the couch.”

He jerked his head in Mercy’s direction. “That dog wanted to tear my face off.”

“He doesn’t know you very well.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a fucking asshole.”

I smiled and it felt genuine. God, just the sight of him made all the fears disappear. “Then he’s doing his job well.”

The corner of Hawke’s mouth quirked up. I stood awkwardly for a few moments, unsure if that was the end of the conversation or if I was meant to end it in a different way. Truth was, I was elated to see him here. Part of me thought I’d step out and find his bike gone along with him.

However, another part of me would have totally been okay if he was gone. I mean, having to face him after I made him touch my vagina last night when I was needy – and I was still currently needy – horrified me.

I wondered if we were thinking the same thing. About last night. About his hand there and me panting like a fucking porn star and telling him I wanted him. But he was acting normal, so…I felt normal…
ish
.

Suddenly remembering the original question he asked me, I pointed to my overalls and said, “Oh, and I’m heading out for work. I’m back at the shop after my block of classes.”

He nodded once. “Right. Have fun at work.”