Hawke (19 page)

Hawke would come back. I was sure of it.

Hawke

He ran.

There was no sugar coating it.

Yeah, he fucking ran.

For reasons that didn’t concern Tyler, by the way. Just…he ran because he had obligations. He needed to go back to the city. Back to Borden. Staying at the clubhouse blurred the lines.

Not with
Tyler
.

With the
club
.

Yeah, that was it. Hector felt threatened whenever he was around, and he wasn’t wrong to feel that way. The guys really looked up to Hawke. They longed for his leadership and it made the tension he already had with his brother ten times worse.

So that’s why he ran.

Yep.

Plus… there was
kind of
an issue with the whole touching Tyler’s pussy thing. Not massive, or anything, just enough to give Hawke instant blue balls and a headache and…constant visions of her on the end of his dick.

Fuck.

Yeah, okay, so it had a
little
more to do with Tyler and how fucking sexy she was naked, and how needy she was the other night when she placed his hand between her legs and silently begged him to fuck her.

And there was last night.

Feeling her tits.

Sucking on her tongue as she moaned.

The walls of her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came hard around them. Fuck, she’d been wet because of him.
Him!
He felt like a fucking god.

And then there was this morning.

That was unexpected. He’d been prepared to leave, not stare at her like a fucking creep for a long period of time. He just…couldn’t seem to get his legs moving, and when she opened her eyes and looked at him? No way could he go. He was a goner. He
had
to touch her a little bit at the
least
. The last thing he expected was her to suck on his fucking thumb, for fuck sake. Even more than that, he hadn’t anticipated the blood to rush to his cock that fast.

He had felt…primitive.

Possessive.

Absolutely fucking animalistic.

She was so goddamn carnal.

Couldn’t forget the walls of her pussy gripping him so tight, he almost blew inside her straight away.

Couldn’t forget her heavy breaths, and her pleas as he moved in and out of her.

“Fuck me, Hawke,” she panted, gripping him tight as she writhed beneath him. “Please, like that. More, Hawke, please. Please.”

She was so wet for him.
Him!

He couldn’t fathom it. He hadn’t been looked at in that way for years. Not with his fucking beard and constant habit of staying in the shadows. And yet Tyler had seen straight through that, unconcerned in the slightest his hand was fucking mangled and disgusting to look at, or that all he needed to look like a homeless dude was a fucking trench coat and a can to shake for coin.

She looked at him the way Emma looked at Borden: lustful, wanting,
needing
.

The only thing he wished he’d done was savor her more. He never got to taste her pussy, never got to slam her from behind or stick his dick inside her mouth – and fuck, imagine the sight of that, her little lips wrapped around him, swallowing his load.

She had practically given herself to him on a silver fucking platter. She wanted him and any sane man would have taken that offer – because what kind of fucking idiot would say no to Tyler with those bouncy tits and that pleading mouth asking for more?

Hawke.

Hawke was the fucking idiot.

Because he couldn’t have her, and he didn’t know why he gave in like that.

Well he did actually.

He’d felt so pent up as she’d sat before him, staring at him with those deep brown eyes while she’d rubbed his fucking butchered hand. Even just the memory caused his hand to tingle.

He’d tried to remember this was the angelic daughter of Dennis. The one that rode her annoying pink fucking tricycle around the clubhouse, and he wouldn’t admit it – not to her or to anyone ever – but he had instructed Kirk to get rid of that stupid fucking tricycle because it was annoying and didn’t belong among bags of guns and bottles of alcohol and needy naked bitches. Mostly, though, it had squeaked like a rusty hinge and drove everyone up the fucking wall.

And then there was that thing with her stare.

Fuck, she stared at him in such a way. It was borderline creepy. He almost wanted to just put a bag over her head so he wouldn’t see it so much.

It was constant –
that stare
– of want and need, a dangerous combination that fucked with his head. She needed to stop with that stare of fucking doom because it kept chipping away at the ice block in his chest. He was a hardened criminal; a murderer; a fugitive. What the hell was he feeling all gooey like a chick over a fucking
stare?

So, yeah, in a nutshell, that was why he was leaving.

Because of the stare.

And other things.

Hawke

“Let me get this brilliant story straight, shall we? You killed my cousin, a man I had come to trust over ten years of loyal servitude, because he… wanted to
fuck
a girl?”

Abram looked at Hawke from across his gargantuan dining table currently covered in food. There was some soulless looking girl – soulless because there was absolutely no life in her eyes – sitting beside him, staring down at an empty plate.

One of Abram’s many slaves.

He had too many of them lurking around his mansion. All dressed in colorful gowns. All unimaginably beautiful.

All dead in the eyes too.

Hawke didn’t know how Abram found these women, or how he got away with having them. Frankly, he wasn’t that curious to ask.

Gus fidgeted by his side, looking at Hawke and Abram, not knowing what to do. Abram had silenced him upon arriving, said he wanted to talk to Hawke and not Gus or Jesse (who was currently staring at the soulless girl with a confused expression on his face).

Hawke had spent the early morning (before creepily staring at Tyler) sitting on the armchair with that horrible dog growling at him for no apparent reason other than breathing too close. It wasn’t six in the morning when Abram called Hawke and ordered to see him right away.

They’d had to sneak out of the clubhouse thereafter, which wasn’t hard because Hector was plastered in bed with some fucking no-name generic bird he’d taken to his room last night.

And now the three of them were in Abram’s space, completely unarmed. Hawke didn’t want to start trouble, so he knew they had to be vulnerable to appease Abram. He needed to give the bastard the feeling he was in charge, and Hawke wasn’t going to lie, he felt powerless at the moment.

“Yuri was in withdrawal,” Hawke explained to him calmly. “He was very aggressive in his demands, and I tried to be cordial.”

“Cordial? You fucking
KILLED
him!” Abram roared, pounding his fist on the table. The soulless girl next to him barely blinked.

“He was acting like a lunatic,” Hawke retorted.

“For a girl? You know how fucking insane that is? He can have any fuckin’ girl he wants under my roof, and they’re better than your clubhouse rats. Why the fuck would he go through all that effort for one of yours, Hawke?”

Hawke studied the Russian for a moment. The man was deceptively good looking; he was the kind of guy who didn’t need to demonstrate his power to lure beautiful girls in.

He was also impossible to read.

Even his anger was a charade that he used to throw people off.

Hawke kept his face neutral, looking almost bored as he explained, “Like I just said, he was in withdrawal and aggressive. He would have fought me over any girl. It just so happened the girl he wanted was already spoken for last night by another member.”

“His actions were very excessive.”

“It didn’t help he said you gave him the okay.”

“I said to enjoy himself. I never mentioned a particular girl, much less kidnap one.”

“He seemed pretty goddamn keen.”

Abram leaned back in his chair, his anger lines fading. “This doesn’t make any sense. The girl he wanted, what’s her name?”

Hawke felt Gus and Jesse’s stare boring into him, and despite their barely concealed concern, Hawke didn’t pause in his lie as he answered, “Shay.”

“Beautiful?” Abram proceeded to ask.

“That’s relative.”

“Well, she’d have to be fucking beautiful, wouldn’t she, Hawke?”

“Suppose so.”

Abram shook his head, scoffing. “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do about this? You think you can just kill family and I would let it go? I look weak if I sit back and let your club get away with this.”

“This wasn’t the club, it was me. I take full responsibility.”

“And see, that’s why you’re still leader material. Unlike your unfortunate brother who has more of a reputation inside the bedroom than out. You really do need to take back that cut. I’d be a lot more cordial to those animals if I knew you were in charge.”

“I’m a fugitive.”

“I can make that disappear.”

Hawke’s face hardened. “Nobody can make that disappear.”

Abram smiled. “Money can make
anything
disappear, Hawke. Your good friend Borden would agree.”

Hawke didn’t reply. That wasn’t a topic he wanted to invite into this shit-storm. He’d already made peace with his current reality, no point looking back.

“What would you have me do to settle this?” Hawke asked.

“Eye for an eye,” Abram answered.

“And that means what?”

“I want someone in your filthy tribe to bite the fucking dust.”

Jesse growled and Gus went still, cursing. “What the fuck?”

Abram pointed at him. “You shut the fuck up, old man.”

Hawke raised his hand to Gus and Jesse, silently telling them to calm down before he turned to Abram. “That ain’t happenin’.”

“Then we’ll burn your clubhouse to the ground with everybody in it.”

Was this dick serious? Or just talking shit?

Hawke chuckled sardonically and narrowed his eyes at Abram. “You really wanna make more enemies? Especially with one that has connections to Marcus Borden, a man who owns an entire city and its thugs under him? You want to sabotage sales from your business by cutting off supply now in search for another one? And what happens if that other one is shit and your buyers fuck off, or worse, die from whatever shit is found in it too late? Then think of what dead bodies will bring to you: a whole shit load of cockroaches sniffin’ up your alleyway lookin’ for someone to blame.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s fucking right, and I’ve been around the block one too many times to tell you with fucking certainty how right that is. So don’t play games with me, Abram. Just be straight and own up to the fact you had a man with a drug addiction that was also a poor excuse for a human being.”

Abram went quiet for a few moments, contemplating. Hawke took the opportunity to look at the two meat heads standing between them and their way out. If things went to shit, they might have to take them on, but if they were armed…well, it’d get ugly.

He really didn’t want it to come to that, but Abram was too unpredictable and he’d killed for less.

“I’m not afraid of war,” Abram started, thoughtfully. “My demand for a bigger supply isn’t crucial. I do it to build a network, like you and Borden. Your threat is hollow to me, Hawke, because I wouldn’t lose anything vital for business if your club turned its back on me, but…I’m not a believer of making enemies. Like you, I’m not impulsive.”

Was this dick ever going to get to the point?

“Yuri’s loyalty was never questioned,” he continued. “But” – he sighed irritably – “he was a liability too with his drug addiction. And my men did back up your story about his aggression, so…maybe this was necessary.”

Shit-storm averted.

“But that doesn’t change how I deal with the club. I want the deals to be made with you.”

“Abram, you gotta handle it with Hector.”

“Hector is fucking clueless, Hawke! Your boys here know it too judging by the look on their faces. You would be insulting me right now to think I would want to even look at that man. He is disorganized and answers problems with unnecessary violence or nothing at all. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has a network of people in his pocket, and that would have taken you and your old man years to build, and he doesn’t know how to use them.”

Hawke glared at him gravely. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Occasionally people whisper in my ear. And what I’ve gathered is pretty black and white. Nobody respects Hector. They respect
you
.”

Fucking hell. “You’re putting me in a situation that forces me back to the club frequently.”

Abram shrugged. “And you plucked the eyeballs out of my cousin’s face before you cut his throat clean. I’d say my fucking conditions are pretty pleasant compared to what they could have been.”

Well, shit, when he said it like that…

Hawke reluctantly nodded. “Good point.”

“But there’s still this problem about the girl.”

“There is no problem about any girl. Yuri was high, drunk and horny.
That
was the problem.”

Abram didn’t respond for several moments. He cut his eyes to Gus and Jesse, studying them intently. “So there’s nothing else you need to tell me, Hawke?”

“Like what?”

Abram shrugged again, looking over Hawke meticulously. “Just…
anything
.”

The fucker was on to him. Hawke could sense it. “Just that I’m glad we have an
honest
relationship,” he replied carefully.

“Yeah.” Abram smirked. “Honesty is relative too, isn’t it, Hawke? I’ll see you at the next drop. In the meantime, pay my respects to Borden.”

Borden wouldn’t give a fuck.

With that, Abram nodded at his meatheads and they cleared the way.

Without another word, Hawke, Gus and Jesse turned around and walked out. It took them five minutes just to get from one side of the mansion to the other. Cameras and men and soulless girls crossed their path the whole way.

“Fucking rich people,” Jesse uttered under his breath.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Gus hissed just as they exited the mansion. “I don’t understand him.”

Hawke understood him.

Men like Abram thought they could buy their loyalty without having to work for it, and then wondered why they couldn’t buy bikers so easily. When you were a community – a family, more like – loyalty was earned, not bought. Abram was fascinated by that, which was why he didn’t end up putting bullets through their heads.

Gus slowed down just as they reached their bikes sitting outside the black iron gates. “You sure you don’t want to come back with us?” he asked Hawke.

Hawke shook his head. “Nah, I gotta go back.”

“Abram was right, though, about Hector.”

Even Jesse stiffened a nod, reluctantly agreeing to that. He still hadn’t looked Hawke in the eye once since the morning. Hawke knew it had something to do with Tyler, what with him trying to mark his territory over her last night and failing miserably. Hawke hadn’t felt threatened once, though. A Navarro got what he wanted. And if he wanted Tyler, he’d have her.

“You boys need to go back,” he told them. “I’m not going to have this talk about throwing Hector under the bus. The cut is his.”

Gus shrugged. “Whatever you say, Hawke, but I know this isn’t the last of Abram. He
will
retaliate.”

It wasn’t in Abram’s nature to go back on his word, but Hawke had been wrong about many things in the past.

“Keep security high,” he told them solemnly. “No mistakes this time, Gus.”

Gus assured him there would be no more mistakes. Hawke watched them jump on their bikes, nodding their heads at him one last time before they took off down the long rounded driveway. When the dust settled and the sound of engines were replaced with utter silence, Hawke found himself standing by his bike, staring emptily at the sky, wondering what his next move was.

Back to the grind, motherfucker.

Already he felt the weariness in his chest. Dread was heavy, like a cinderblock stuffed inside his ribcage. He rubbed at his beard and pulled at it. Fuck it itched something awful. He should just shave it off already and stop hiding behind it like a pussy. But it was a kind of armor for him. A symbolic way to separate him from his old self because, let’s be real here, the old Hawke was dead.

And that was the problem: he suddenly wanted to revive him and go back to…her.

Now
he was officially pussy-whipped.

He jumped on his bike and let the engine roar to life. Then he went for a very long ride, and for a while he pretended it was like before: riding with his brothers, following his lead.

The heavy wind against his face.

Empty road ahead.

The smell of leather in his nose.

He felt alive when he rode.

He felt
whole
.

Better than that, he felt at peace.

It was only when he stopped and life came rushing in that he remembered where he was and he…
hated
it.

The loneliness within him was like slow decay, and with time it would rot its way into his soul.