Chapter 29 – Hunter “Hawk” Sinclair
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hunter “Hawk” Sinclair
I t took a while for us to talk Deacon Hollingsworth off the fucking ledge. Rage. He cooled off over the years, but this unbridled fury erupts once in a while and now, he’s decided to butt heads with Wyatt, who has been handling his gambling sobriety by being the world’s biggest dickhead. I pull Juliette away from the twins and our older daughter to come to our meeting out at The Fire Spot.
She insists that we take the bike, which I pretend to hate. I fucking love that she’s in love with my hobby. It’s something special we can share together, a life we can share with our kids — without some of the extremes. I feel even more protective of my family these days. There’s nothing wrong with being country, or a little rough around the edges, but I want them to grow up safer than I did.
Dad might have called me soft but… I don’t care. I would do anything to keep this family safe and together. Anything. Juliette holds my hand as we walk into The Fire Spot. The bar looks just like it did when I first met Juliette. There are still bullet holes in the giant pillar down the middle of the building. I squeeze her palm lovingly at the memory of those first days together. Before Santa Fe and the babies. I knew she was mine the second I saw her.
Wyatt sits there staring at his phone with dice rolling across the tops of his fingers. It’s hard not to assume he’s still gambling when he does shit like that. But he sets his phone down and it’s just one of those photo slideshows.
Owen bought his nephew his first cut — and it looks stinking cute.
I try to take his attention away from the photo of his child for a hot second so we can get this business with Deacon over. “So? Deacon. You still don’t trust him?”
“He has to come clean about whatever he’s hiding but… I have no reason not to trust him. He agreed to come here, right?”
"My only job here is to make sure you don't rip each other's throats out."
"I'm fine," Wyatt snarls. "He's the one lying, sneaking around, and now demanding my permission and resources to kill someone. It's fucking crazy."
Ducati engines make a distinct purring sound. The noise slowly approaches the Fire Spot. Wyatt's left foot taps anxiously keeping roughly the same pace of the dice rolling across his fingers.
"Relax," I grunt. "I'll be the mediator."
"What am I supposed to do? Stand around looking cute?" Juliette snaps.
"Yes. As quietly as possible."
She rolls her eyes, but Wyatt's terrifying glare convinces her to stay silent -- at least temporarily. Deacon storms into the bar visibly pissed off. Red all over. Hair a goddamn mess. Cigarette in his mouth. He blows a gigantic plume of smoke inside.
"Ruger's five minutes behind me. Fucking snitch. "
I jump in before Wyatt can escalate the situation.
"Hey, calm down, man. We want to help."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes. And to be frank, we both know that you have some weird undercover shit going on."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Secret dealings," Wyatt says in a calm voice with threatening undertones. Juliette draws her body closer to mine, already wisely choosing to stay out of this conversation.
"Where the fuck did you hear that? All my business dealings are above board. I pay my club dues, report everything to the club. I help people."
Ruger's bike skids to a stop in the parking lot. He's screaming into his cell phone, only hanging up when he's halfway inside our spot.
"Nobody shot yet. Good."
Deacon glares at him. "Yet."
"Hey," I intervene. "Nobody needs to get shot. Period. We didn't want to make any accusations without any evidence but... there came to be some suspicious circumstances which led Wyatt to believe you were hiding something from the club."
"Accusations? From who?" Deacon looks angry enough to swing an axe at someone's head. Ruger pats him on the back in an effort to calm him down. I have never in my life seen fatherhood so thoroughly change someone the way Ruger's baby changed him...
"It doesn't matter," Wyatt says, his tone softening. "If there is some secret, I need to know it. Tell the truth and I'll send everyone we have to get your girl back. "
"She's not my girl," Deacon says. "She's my old lady. And she's pregnant."
Juliette gasps. "You're not gay!?"
Deacon glares at her. "Hawk..." he warns.
I give Juliette a gentle pinch on her arm, hoping that serves as sufficient warning for her crazy ass to tread carefully.
"Pregnant?" Wyatt asks. "How far along?"
"Twenty-six weeks. The longer she's out there..."
"Your secret, Rage."
"My secret is that I paid Oske to find women for me. In the past. Before her. I made the mistake of thinking I was entitled to a private life in this goddamn club."
"Hookers?!" Juliette squawks, unable to hide her enthusiasm for getting to witness these revelations first hand. Deacon is far too concerned with his own humiliation to concern himself with Juliette's reactions anymore.
"That's it?" Wyatt asks.
"Yes."
"Fuck," Wyatt growls. "Fuck. We need to find Oske."
"Why?" Deacon asks. "I haven’t been able to get a hold of her. I don’t think she would run off with Keyshawn. Oske cares about her paycheck. ”
"Keyshawn?!" Juliette squeaks. "You got a black woman preg--"
I cup my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. She glares at me and starts licking my palm until I drop my hand away and wipe it off on her. I've told her not to do that about seventeen times in the past.
"Oske acts first and thinks later," Wyatt says. "This could be some kind of miscommunication."
"Oske didn't kidnap Keyshawn. Trust me, I've had to throw that woman over my shoulder and it's not easy. She's too small."
"If she had help, we have an even bigger problem on our hands," Wyatt says. "Fuck. Let's get the bikes."
"Can I drive, baby?" Juliette asks.
I cup her ass before leaning over and growling in her ear, "No fucking way. Now stop causing a scene before I take you home and get you pregnant too."
"I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Sinclair."
"Hm. We may have to change that," I whisper, kissing her on her neck and walking outside with my old lady, wondering how the hell she still finds herself at the center of trouble, even now...