Hawke Page 5

  “That’s not gonna happen.”

  “Since when have you cared about your modesty? You’re living with us, and chicks walk around in their birthday suits all the fuckin’ time.”

  “Maybe it’s good to have a bit of mystery to my body,” I replied cheekily.

  He paused from his movements and glimpsed me up and down. “That’s true. I think you’re the only girl I’ve been around for so long and haven’t seen naked.”

  “And that’s the way it’s stayin’,” I whispered to myself.

  Hector probably fucked more women than Genghis Khan ever did in his reign. I wasn’t interested in being another notch on his bed post, although I couldn’t lie that it never crossed my mind once or twice in my lifetime. I was only a girl and loneliness was a bitch. Plus, Hector was gorgeous. Had that dark hair, tatted tanned skin and deep brown eyes a gal could easily lose herself in. He would be perfect if he spoke less and kept his dick in his pants, but neither of those two things were going to happen any time soon.

  Plus, he wasn’t Hawke.

  And Hawke? He was better, in every way.

  I turned my back to him and started to put my hand through the strap of my bra. I heard him curse under his breath before he yanked the bra from out of my hand.

  “The bra strap is going to press against your tattoo, Ty,” he told me. “Throw on your shirt. That’s all you need right now. Seriously, you have to take it easy.”

  “Alright, don’t bite my head off, I just forgot.” I grabbed my white loose off-shoulder top and threw it on. My breasts were on the small side, so not wearing a bra wasn’t all that noticeable. I doubted it mattered anyway. Like Hector said, the bar would be sprawling with loose women wearing much less than I was.

  “We got company at the place tonight,” Hector told me.

  “Who?”

  “Yuri and his crew. They’ll be dropping in some cash and stayin’ over to party for the night.”

  I cringed. “God, Hector, Yuri’s really touchy and demanding.”

  “So are the guys.”

  “But they keep their hands off me. Yuri is intense.”

  Hector shrugged. “What am I supposed to do about it? He’s Abram’s cousin. I can’t necessarily tell him to fuck off. Abram’s fond of the little shit.”

  “I’d have to keep an eye out then.”

  “So you gonna stay back for drinks?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Depends how obnoxious everyone is.”

  “They’ll be obnoxious.”

  “Including you?”

  He chuckled and grabbed his bike key. “Especially me. I got a date with Jack Daniels and a hot bit of ass.”

  What was new?

  I shrugged again. “Well, we’ll see how that ass-hat acts. You have no idea the grief he gave me last time.”

  Yuri and his crew were part of the Russian counterpart the club did deals with on the side. They weren’t regular buyers of the club’s product, but whenever they did buy, it was apparently a lot. Enough to keep them over to bleed the bar dry. And Yuri was a dipshit. A real nasty guy with a bad temper and demanding hands. The last few times he had been around he’d tried touching me like I was some club slut ready to put out for him. I had done my best to be patient. Had excused myself every time he got near, but then he grabbed me by the ass the very last time and I had had enough. The drunk dick earned himself a knee to the balls, and he was too drunk to remember.

  I pulled a wad of cash out of my wallet and turned to Hector. “By the way, this is for the last two sessions.”

  He glowered at the bills. “Put the money away, Tyler. You’re not making shit at the garage.”

  I shook my head. “I’m doing really good, actually, and I saved for this so you need to take it. I’m not one of your sluts you get to shower with gifts and send on their merry way. I would have paid for this with anyone else, and this is the last half you quoted me.”

  He scratched at his scruffy jaw and stared at the money for a few moments. Then he sighed and snatched it out of my hands. Walking past the reception desk, he threw the money there and unlocked the entrance door.

  “Come on,” he told me, motioning me out the door.

  Feeling good, I smiled at him as I stepped out into the warm stuffy air. It had just started drizzling and my hair would undoubtedly pay the price in under five minutes. Hector stood under the awning and had a quick cigarette while I looked up at the stars.

  Nights like these reminded me of Hawke, of our time together that night as he drank himself away while he stared at the sky like he’d taken it for granted his whole life.

  When Hector finished, we walked to his Harley and I climbed on behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. In direct view of his patched vest, I momentarily ran my finger over the insignia on the back: of two battle axes crossing, a sword running down the middle and a fiery skull dead center. On top of that was the word PRESIDENT in white bold letters. This was the very same vest Hawke used to wear. My smile wavered just a little, and a feeling of melancholy washed over me.

  I missed him.

  Hector started the engine, distracting me from my thoughts of his older brother, and we took off into the quiet streets, back to the clubhouse.

  Back to home.

  seven

  Tyler

  From the front, the non-descript clubhouse was a plain red-bricked building with the Warlord banner on the front. It had been renovated over a decade ago when the club bought the entire building. It was originally a bar and a couple apartments on top, and the actual bar had changed very little; the other two floors had their walls between apartments knocked out of them and rooms were placed to accommodate every member of the club. It wasn’t anything fancy. There were no ten foot walls bordering the place like people often imagined when they thought of a motorcycle gang’s stronghold. There were no illegal activities done here either, nor were there weapons of mass destruction like many townsfolk gossiped about. No, all that was done way out of town in a warehouse somewhere secluded. I only knew about it because Hector secretly told me everything.

  Instead, our clubhouse was reserved specifically for day to day life. It was where I grew up and ran amuck, and nobody could do a single thing about it. My dad used to be the Vice President of Warlords, and that earned me a first class ticket in their circle. I was everyone’s little princess. The guys adored me, even when I was annoying the shit out of them.

  My childhood was great and filled with wonderful memories, and then… I thought of the day Dad died; the victim of a random attack by some coward without a face. That cockroach of a cop had been right about it being brutal because I’d heard the club talking about it amongst themselves one time. They said he bled out slowly. As he lay dying with Hawke by his side, he’d made him promise to look after his family.

  He left behind Mom and me, and at the time, Mom was a stay at home wife and I was only twelve years old and Hawke was in charge. He’d been president almost four years and was the youngest leader the club had ever seen, but he excelled unlike any other. He promised us the club would look after us no matter what, and that he would personally see to it I would never go without.

  But that also came with certain conditions. He wanted me to distance myself from the club and live a normal life. Even today, almost nine years after my father’s death, he was still stressing the same damn thing.

  I defied him, of course. I was a club brat, after all. You can’t just introduce a girl to this lifestyle and march her out the door when she’s been living and breathing black leather and bikes all her life. That was just insensitive. The Warlords were my family and this clubhouse was my home, and no former President biker with a beard to his chest was going to tell me otherwise.

  The bar was roaring with activity. Deafening laughter and screams could be heard just outside the black entrance door. Upon entering, I had a quick glance around. It had turned into a rowdy bar where laughter and music was all you heard. The pool table was crowded
for once, but not from playing the game, but from the guys licking alcohol off the belly button of a giggling topless girl lying on her back. Other topless girls roamed from member to member, and drinks were passed around.

  It was chaos, but hell, this club only functioned on chaos.

  Hector was already scoping out the selection of females. He settled on Holly, our newest waitress they’d hired last month. She was currently bending over a table and passing a beer over to one of the guys. Just as Hector stepped in her direction, I grabbed his arm tightly.

  “Don’t screw the staff, Hector,” I sharply told him.

  He smirked at me. “What if I fire her and hire her back tomorrow?”

  I scowled at him. “I’m being serious. Every time you do this, Gus gets pissed and has to hire someone else. You don’t seem to realize you’re sending mixed signals when you’re taking a girl to bed and treating her the way you do.”

  Hector wasn’t a selfish lover, or at least that’s what I’d heard. Countless freaking times. I also meant that in the literal sense – I’d heard him with women, way back when I was a kid even, and knew he was some kind of fucking guru in the sack.

  He took his time with a girl, nurtured her, spoke spine-tingling words in her ears, and as a result, the poor woman on the other end felt wanted and cared for. It was fucked up. Hector was fucked up. The man harbored some serious issues, and he didn’t seem to realize that he wouldn’t find answers thrusting into meaningless girls.

  But I wasn’t Dr Phil, so what the hell did I know?

  His smirk intensified. “She won’t regret it.”

  “Holly has a kid,” I retorted. “She is a struggling mother. This was the only job she could find. Do not fuck that up, Hector.”

  That smirk immediately fell and he glanced at Holly curiously before muttering, “Fine. I’ll do her some other time.”

  He led us to the bar where Gus was downing a beer. Gus was the VP. He’d been close to my father, and when he died he sort of assumed that father role in my life along with my father’s role. He barely glanced in our direction when we sidled up next to him. His eyes were glued to the other side of the bar where a group of faces sat. I recognized them after a few moments.

  Yuri’s crew, minus Yuri himself.

  Hector gave Gus a hard slap on the back. “What’s going on, man?”

  “Not sure,” Gus responded, frowning. “The deal never happened. Yuri says he has extra conditions this time around that he wants to pay a little extra for.”

  Hector followed his gaze to the group of four men rowdily fondling a few girls as they stopped by. His eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t get it. This isn’t a fucking candy shop. We have one goddamn product at the moment that’s getting shipped in. What could he possibly want?”

  Gus shook his head. “Don’t be pissed, but after Jesse spoke to him, he said he wanted to talk to the real president of the club.”

  I watched as Hector’s face darkened, and immediately I went on guard. Hector took immediate offence when his leadership skills were called into question.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, his voice turning harsher.

  Gus simply motioned to a nearby table where Jesse sat with Marshall, playing cards. “You should ask him.”

  Hector immediately moved in his direction, and I went to follow when Gus grabbed me suddenly by the arm and shook his white head. “Don’t, Tyler,” he said tiredly. “You should go upstairs to Hawke’s room.”

  “My room,” I corrected for the millionth time, my eyes on Hector. “Hasn’t been Hawke’s since he left, Gus.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s best to keep you out of sight.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to know.”

  But I did need to know. I didn’t like the vibe in the air, like something was wrong. I watched Hector grab a chair and sit himself down next to Jesse. Jesse, as usual, was in a black suit. He was an oddity, this man. The only member in the club who didn’t wear his vest and chose Armani instead. Which was a freaking contradiction to him, given his white crisp sleeves were rolled up and his arms were covered in tattoos, or that his blond hair almost reached his shoulders and was messy as hell, or that he had piercings in his ear and lip. You wouldn’t normally put a man like that in a suit, but I’ll admit he pulled it off impeccably. Plus, I had nothing bad to say about the guy. He was my closest friend in the club aside from Gus and Hector.

  Marshall quickly excused himself when he got a call, slinking past the girls undetected. He did stop to ruffle my hair though as he passed and I smacked it away. He was in his mid-thirties and he was the only guy here that escaped the women instead of embracing them. Ever since he had his kid Colin two years ago with his off-and-on again girlfriend Brenda, he wasn’t interested in fucking girls. I really liked that about him. It was refreshing to see a faithful dude in a culture that didn’t really advocate that one-woman philosophy.

  I sat down on the stool, my body turned in their direction. “Yuri wants to talk to Hawke, doesn’t he?” I asked quietly, ignoring the way my chest tightened. Hawke. Hawke. Hawke. I loved whispering that name in my head.

  Gus let out a long sigh. “I don’t know more than you do right now, Ty.”

  I glanced at him and my eyes roamed his crinkled face. “Is he coming?”

  I’d seen Hawke from time to time, and they were very short visits and spent behind closed doors talking business with the club members. He always made the time to speak to me directly, but everything about him was different. He was more serious and quiet. He observed more than he spoke, and it used to make me feel like a bullseye when his eyes settled on me. I never knew what ran through his mind when he stared at me, scrutinized me head to toe, and then never said a word about what he saw after he’d taken me in. Those gazes troubled me.

  And then the interrogation would follow. The same question fired first.

  “Whose bed are you in?” he’d demand.

  “No one’s,” I’d answer.

  “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then whose bed are you in?”

  “Yours.”

  Then silence.

  The man I’d regarded as my best friend was gone and replaced with a hard stone wall that barely showed emotion. Plus, his hair had grown. A lot. The sexy face I used to admire was hiding beneath inches of facial hair. It was a tragedy, and it was also a curse. Because the less I saw of Hawke, the more I craved him.

  Gus ignored my question and responded instead with, “The problem with Hector is he’s too open. He doesn’t know how to put up a front. Doesn’t know how to keep his emotions under check. He’s transparent, and that can be dangerous for the club. Can be dangerous for business.”

  I knew what he was getting at. Hawke was the most indecipherable man I had ever met. He was also scary. Whereas Hector was fluid and predictable with his emotions, and the edge wasn’t as strong in him as it was in his older brother.

  In a nutshell, Hector wasn’t leader material, and everyone knew it. Fortunately, Hector was damn good with business and had a gift with numbers. He’d managed to float the businesses around town impeccably, and on top of that, had the gift of the gab and made a lot of connections on his own (though he wasn’t all that great at keeping them). Plus, he had his ruthless moments. In what way I was never told, but he used his hands well, or so I heard.

  “Would Hawke come if he was asked to?” I asked, unable to resist. I needed to know. God, I was desperate to see him.

  “He was already asked,” Gus answered, frowning.

  My breath thinned. “And?” I pressed, anxiously.

  “He never made it clear if he would. He’s working for Borden, and that comes with a lot of responsibility.”

  Borden. I cringed at the name. Marcus Borden was a very bad man who had the entire city of New Raven under his thumb. He’d risen to notoriety after he’d disappeared and come back years later mys
teriously rich and untouchable. Then he’d taken over the streets, ridding gangs and placing himself at the top of the food chain.

  And Hawke was his second in command; a role I didn’t think he deserved given his life here. But those two men were close, and I didn’t see Hawke pulling back from that job anytime soon.

  Gus tapped the bar twice before he slid off the stool, eyes still on Yuri’s men. “I’m going to have a walk around, honey. If you need anything, just come right to me. Oh, and stay away from the Russians.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t intend on being near them, Gus. That would be an extremely dumb move and a total violation of my nature.”

  He raised his brow, giving me a peculiar look. “I understand.”

  “But you’re saying it like I’d be stupid enough to want to.”

  “I don’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s all in your tone, Gus.”

  “I know, it’s just” – he grimaced – “we don’t need trouble, and I want you safe.”

  “I’m here. I’ll be okay.”

  He nodded once and left. I sat alone for a few minutes, watching Hector and Jesse deep in conversation. Shay, the clubhouse bartender, slid a beer in my direction. I took it and picked at the sticker, opting not to drink when it wasn’t just the club around.

  Plus, I didn’t want to be tipsy if Hawke came around.

  God, I hadn’t felt this perked up in ages.

  “Did you get your tattoo done?” Shay asked, distracting me from thoughts of Hawke.

  I smiled at her. “Yeah, but it hurt like a mofo.”

  “Mofo?”

  “You know, motherfucker.”

  “Yeah I know what mofo stands for, I just haven’t heard someone say it in a while.”

  I swallowed my sigh. “Okay.”

  “Was it nice to have Hector touching you?”

  “He did… a good job.”

  She stared at me for a while, not blinking, barely moving. Then she casually turned away, like she hadn’t just stood there for twenty seconds, staring like a creep.

  “What do you think of Holly?” she then asked, her voice piqued with interest.