Hawke Read online

  “It helped writing them,” she whispered back.

  His eyes closed and his body slowly gave out. His grip around Tyler slackened. He felt her body shuffle, felt her face move higher. Her cool hands touched his face, her fingers traced down his forehead, along the curve of his nose and over the bump of his lips.

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered, “about everything.”

  She whispered something else to him, but he was too out of it to know what. Then he felt something… soft brush his mouth, and he knew – he knew before he faded into blackness – that she had kissed him.

  *

  His dreams were unsettling, as always.

  And the same.

  They were always the fucking same.

  He was back there, in solitary again, sitting under a fluorescent light, staring at ancient pictures previous prisoners had drawn on the walls with their blood. He could hear the howls and painful cries from the others surrounding the tiny box he had grown stagnant in.

  They were caged, just like him.

  They were monsters, just like him.

  Starved, abandoned, watching their sanity bleed dry as the hours blurred and time no longer existed.

  He felt tightening in his chest, and he struggled breathing. It was maddening. Like being buried alive, but worse because it went on and on and…on.

  He’d kill himself easily just to escape, and he wanted to. Dear god, he wanted to because what was the fucking point?

  In his dreams, he dug his nails into his throat and tore his lungs out and died in a pool of his own blood. But in real life he had just stared at the drawings and punched his head to feel pain.

  Because pain…pain was better than this pit of nothingness.

  five

  Hawke

  Hawke woke up hours later to Tyler curled to his side, sleeping peacefully. He looked at her for a very long time, stunned by the softness of her body. He hadn’t seen softness like this in what felt like an eternity. He also hadn’t felt warmth in that period of time, either.

  Tyler was soft.

  She was painfully beautiful.

  She was warm.

  Or maybe isolation had made the world and her more brilliant to look at.

  He slid out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and went to the bathroom to shower the filth off him. Even that required strenuous effort. The entire place, shitty as it was, was paradise compared to where he had come from. The hot water was bliss, and he had to shut his eyes to savor the heat flowing through him.

  After he finished, he proceeded to stare at himself in the mirror, studying his reflection while he rubbed at his bare cheeks. He needed to disguise himself, grow a beard maybe. He had a very distinguishable face; the cheekbones and sculpted jaw of a fucking model. He would be seen and recognized immediately if he wasn’t careful.

  He exhaled and dropped his head. He was still weak everywhere, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. It was the soft body sleeping in that bed feet from him that was fucking with his head and the words she’d said last night.

  Love is home, and I feel it most when you’re with me.

  He opened the bathroom door and looked at her, feeling regret he had marked her for himself when he spoke to Hector last night. He had just ruined any chance of her being with another member in the club.

  Part of you likes that. Look how stunning she is two years later. Imagine another three?

  He frowned at himself for that train of thought, but he didn’t take the words back like he might have long ago. He was needy. Really fucking needy and vulnerable at the moment. Truth was prison was a nasty place that forced one to think of their own desperation. And he’d been desperate and… lonely. So fucking lonely. The kind of lonely that made a man like him ache for something real.

  Those letters were real.

  Tyler struck a chord in him. He didn’t expect it, but she had. She would consume him, he knew it. She was the kind of innocent that was still rough around the edges. The kind that was worth waiting for.

  But then he felt the throb in his hand and realized he couldn’t have anything real anytime soon. Maybe never.

  He sighed and threw his dirty sweatpants back on. Then he stepped out of the motel room and into the morning sun. Just the sight of it gave him pause. He looked up at the sky, taking in deep breaths.

  Freedom.

  So why didn’t he feel free?

  He tore his gaze away and moved to the door next to him. He opened it without knocking, not surprised that it was unlocked. He found Hector in bed wrapped around the arms of a naked girl. Another girl was up and in the middle of sliding her jeans on. She didn’t look bothered at the sight of him. Her eyes were still unfocused, and he figured it had something to do with the countless empty bottles of alcohol strewn on the floor.

  The nameless girl smiled at him from behind her black locks. Hawke skimmed her over fleetingly, at her large breasts and wide hips decorated in flower tattoos. A solid ten out of ten. He should have felt that familiar adrenaline shoot through him. This was a naked girl. He hadn’t seen one in the flesh for far too long. This was every prisoner’s fantasy come to life.

  But he didn’t feel his cock stir in the slightest. It was bizarre and unexpected how dead he was. The girl’s movements slowed and she turned to him face on, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He recognized this behavior. She was used to bikers. Used to being told what to do. And that was surprisingly a turn off.

  Hawke looked away and shut the door. He was about to return to his room when the sound of a motorcycle caught his attention. He watched a black Harley turning into the parking lot of the motel, and he immediately recognized who it was.

  Gus.

  Vice President of the Warlords since Hawke was a kid, and a father figure to him since his old man bit the dust.

  Again, he should have felt something, but he didn’t. The wall he had built in prison would take a long time to crumble.

  Gus tore his helmet off and came bounding his way, a look of relief and excitement on his face. “I can’t fuckin’ believe that psychotic man pulled it off!” he hollered. They hugged it out for a few seconds and then Gus took Hawke’s face into his hands and gave his cheek a light slap before dropping them. “Look at you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Like a fucking ghost come to life or somethin’. Didn’t Gecko give you anything? You look like you’re on your death bed.”

  “I’ll be fine, old man,” Hawke replied.

  “Fine would be seeing you come back, not seeing you run away.”

  Hawke sighed. “He had no choice, apparently.”

  Gus nodded solemnly. “You know the amount of dough that was sittin’ on your precious head the entire time you were there? You could have made someone rich.”

  “It was a fight every day.”

  Gus looked over Hawke’s bare chest, at the new scars Hawke had earned during his imprisonment. “I’m sure it was. Let’s never see you go back. I got enough money to float you a long time, got a black spot on this motel so you won’t find any cockroaches coming around. You can stay here and take time out to heal before you decide where you wanna go –”

  “I want to leave as soon as possible,” Hawke interrupted firmly.

  Gus looked at him peculiarly. “Why?”

  “The longer I’m here, the staler I’ll become.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  Gus watched him for several moments, trying to figure out the blank look on Hawke’s face. Then he asked, “Where’s your brother?”

  Hawke gestured to the room next to his. “He’ll be out for a couple more hours, I’m sure.”

  “He’s still asleep?”

  “He had a rowdy night, our boy,” Hawke explained bitterly. “Decided to fuck a few girls, but he offered me one, so I guess he was thinkin’ of me too while I was bleeding, huh?”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Right on cue, the door open
ed, and the nameless girl stepped out. She stumbled past them, looking at Hawke again with another smile.

  “What the fuck you lookin’ at?” Gus roared at her, his face reddening immediately. “Look away if you know what’s best for you!”

  The girl’s smile disappeared and she did just that.

  “Gonna have to take care of that one,” Gus told Hawke after she had stumbled her way out of the parking lot. “Can’t afford anyone sayin’ they spotted you anywhere.”

  “Don’t worry about her. The girl’s still so drunk, she won’t remember what I’ll look like,” Hawke replied.

  “What the fuck was Hector thinking?”

  “When does Hector ever think?”

  Gus cursed under his breath. “He spent most of the time you were in prison fucking women and drinking himself to sleep. Nothing will change after you leave. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Hawke didn’t respond. This wasn’t something he had control over anymore. He had to think of himself now and figuring out his next step.

  “He never dug deep enough to find out who sold us out with that video, by the way,” Gus added, darkly. “The boys talked about it and it got us wondering…” His words trailed off, but Hawke didn’t need more to understand where he was going with this.

  “We may have our differences, but my brother would never sell me out,” Hawke told him, feeling certain.

  “Not even to take over?”

  “No.”

  The thought had entered Hawke’s mind over the months, but quickly disappeared when he remembered the rare moments of loyalty they’d shared together. Hector would never have sold his brother out because he never cared to be president.

  Gus didn’t look convinced, but he stiffened a nod anyway. “If you want to leave as soon as possible, Hawke, you can take my bike.”

  “I’ll need your shirt too. Can’t be riding with the club’s emblem on my back.”

  Gus agreed, though his eyes dimmed. He wasn’t happy about this. It was too soon, and Hawke needed more rest.

  “Take whatever you need,” Gus told him, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll go grab us some breakfast, huh?”

  He left and Hawke returned to his room. This time Tyler was awake and sitting up, staring at him with a fallen face as he came through the door. He stopped and looked back at her, raising his brow questioningly.

  “You’re leaving,” she whispered, tipping her head to the window. “I heard everything.”

  “Always hearing things,” Hawke replied lightly. “Always eavesdropping.”

  She didn’t smile. “Please stay.”

  He exhaled slowly and collapsed back on the bed, dropping his head down. His blinks were still slow. He was shattered. “I can’t,” he told her. “I can’t have everyone risk their neck to keep me hidden. The sooner I’m gone, the better.”

  A flash of anger showed in her eyes, and she petulantly kicked the covers off and crossed her arms, staring back out the window. “Dad said you’d always be there for me,” she quietly remarked.

  “I don’t think your father knew I’d be busted out of prison.”

  “Can’t you buy the cockroaches off?”

  “With what money? Hector drained the club’s pockets just to order my escape.”

  Tyler frowned, blinking sudden tears. “This is so unfair. I get you for one minute and you’re gone again. All I got now is Hector and Jesse –”

  “Who the fuck is Jesse?”

  “He’s a prospect, about to turn member.”

  Hawke’s eyes dimmed. “Been spending a lot of time with him?”

  She nodded absently. “He likes to work with cars too. He’s got this garage in his father’s name they just passed to him. He said he’d make that an asset for the club, which is why his prospecting’s been cut short.”

  “Is he someone the club can trust?”

  “Yeah, he’s done his fair bit. Helped burn down the Lone Horseman’s new shop.”

  Hawke tensed, working his jaw before he asked, “Another MC moving into Norwich, Ty?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Not after that, but…they’re small time anyway. No big threat. Jonny’s been on top of it, riding out all the time nowadays and making sure nobody will do business with them.”

  Hawke relaxed.

  He fucking hated how invested he was in this club, but already he was thinking of ways he could burn this new MC to the ground. Because that was what you had to do with a threat: you had to cut its head off the second it opened its mouth.

  Hector won’t do that. He’s too soft.

  “I’ll be around,” Hawke then promised, looking at her gravely. “To help Hector out, I’ll be around every now and again when the heat cools.”

  Tyler just nodded, looking at him so fiercely, like she was committing his face to memory.

  It made the void inside him ache. He wanted to make more promises he didn’t know he could keep so she could feel better, but he didn’t.

  Ty was old enough not to fall for them anyway.

  When Gus returned, Hawke didn’t have it in him to eat. He just looked at the old man standing by the door, breakfast in hand, and Gus knew – knew with just one look – that he wasn’t preparing to stay, not for another minute. Tyler saw it too, and tears fell from her eyes.

  Hawke would leave Tyler like that, broken hearted and empty, unable to look away from him as he stepped out the door, dressed and ready for the open road. He’d grab the money Gus left him and jump on his bike and eventually unite with the man that broke him out. He’d work for him and disguise himself from the world, learning to exist instead of live, until everyone forgot all about the man that escaped prison.

  Yeah, that’s what he would do.

  Only…life had a thing for throwing curveballs because…

  None of it ended up working out that way.

  six

  Tyler

  Five years later

  “Fuck, you are a hot little minx, Tyler,” Hector said from behind me.

  His hand touched at my exposed back and he pushed me down slowly. I closed my eyes and breathed as the tattoo gun came alive and its needle pierced into the flesh of my back. I bit my lip and concentrated on the music blasting through the tattoo parlor, but the pain was almost too much. I squirmed and clenched my teeth. It was like a fiery scratch being dragged across my skin.

  Ouch!

  “You feelin’ okay, hot stuff?” Hector asked me, noticing my discomfort.

  “No,” I whimpered, tensing. “I feel like shit.”

  “Suck it up, princess.”

  I raised my hand and shakily flipped him off. I heard his faint laughter as he continued to lay havoc to my skin.

  “I know why they call you the butcher now!” I hollered.

  “Welcome to the butcher shop!” he hooted.

  Fuck, he was rough. I’d heard the horror stories back in the day of people who were in the tattooed hands of Hector Navarro. But he was the best in town, and though he’d stopped working at Warlord Ink since he assumed the role of president of the Warlords MC, he still did favors from time to time. When he found out what I wanted on my skin, he was more than willing to do me this favor. This was my fourth and final session, thank fuck, and I was eager to see the result and get the hell out.

  I kept my eyes glued shut. The only sound in the empty parlor was that of the gun and the loud music blaring from the stereo. Every so often, he’d pause what he was doing and give me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It didn’t do shit to calm me down.

  At some point, I pulled out my phone and tried to distract myself by scrolling through my current messages.

  Mother: I met a man, and I’m pretty certain he’s the one.

  I rolled my eyes. Sure he is, Mother.

  One message in and that was too much text reading for the day.

  I put the phone back down and counted my breaths.

  When Hector finally finished, I wanted to cry with relief. He turned the music off and left m
e on the chair while he grabbed a few things in the backroom. He returned moments later and rubbed some kind of ointment on my back. His movements were gentle, nothing at all like his every day nature. “I’ll keep treating your skin for you,” he told me softly. “Come for me in the morning.”

  “That’s what she said,” I muttered, unable to resist.

  He grabbed my ponytail and gave it a sharp tug. “Don’t be a smartass. You gotta take care of your tats. It’s serious.”

  I handed him my phone. “Yeah, yeah, now take a picture for me. I wanna see the hell I went through without craning my head in front of a mirror.”

  “Believe me, it looks sexy as fuck on you. You’ll be impressed.”

  He took a picture and handed me back the phone. I stared at the picture of my back, at the tattoo all filled out, every detail added in from the last couple hours. My skin was red and sensitive, and I knew it would take a while to heal, but Hector was right: I loved it.

  I looked over my shoulder and smiled brightly as he began to apply my bandage. “Thanks,” I told him sincerely. “It looks great. Better than I could have imagined.”

  His lips quirked up, happy at my compliment. For a second I’d wished nothing had changed. That he still worked here where he was happiest and didn’t have to worry about the obligations he absolutely sucked at (ex: the club). He nodded once and started cleaning up the station. “No problem. Now, while it’s healing, I will advise you be topless for as long as humanly possible. This baby needs to breathe.”

  I burst out laughing and stood up, hiding my breasts with my arm as I grabbed my shirt and bra off a nearby chair. “So you want me to walk around the clubhouse with my boobs hanging out?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.

  “Why not?” he replied with a wink. “Your tits are nice.”

  “You haven’t seen my tits!”

  “I’ve seen you in tight tops, Ty. I know they’re probably a fucking glorious sight. Put your arm down and let me see.”