Chapter 3 - Hawk #2
The question catches me off guard. I've been so focused on the tactical side of the situation—securing Olivia, planning my approach to Devin—that I haven't thought about the hours stretching between now and then.
Hours alone in a motel room with the woman I've never been able to forget.
"We could get food," I suggest, grasping for normalcy. "There's that Chinese place you used to like on Main Street. Does it still have the good egg rolls?"
A small smile touches her lips. "Golden Dragon? Yeah, it's still there. Still has the good egg rolls."
"I could pick some up. Bring it back here." I check my watch. "It's almost dinner time anyway."
"That sounds good." Her smile widens slightly, and for a moment I see the Olivia I remember. The one who used to light up rooms just by walking into them. Before Devin dimmed that light.
I find myself smiling back despite everything. "Any requests besides the egg rolls?"
"Kung pao chicken. Extra spicy." She tilts her head. "You remember I like it spicy, right?"
"I remember everything about you, Liv." The words slip out before I can stop them, too honest, too revealing.
Her eyes widen slightly, and a flush rises on her cheeks. "I... um..."
"I'll be back in thirty," I say quickly, grabbing my keys and cut from the chair. "Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but me."
She nods, the moment broken. "Be careful."
The concern in her voice follows me out the door, settling somewhere in my chest like a physical weight. I wait until I hear the deadbolt slide into place before heading to my bike.
The ride to Golden Dragon gives me time to think, to plan.
Tomorrow's confrontation with Devin needs to be handled carefully.
Enough force to make the message clear, not so much that it draws unwanted attention.
I need to make sure he understands that Olivia is off-limits without creating problems that could blow back on the club.
Reaper's words echo in my head. *Club comes first. But family is why we fight.*
Olivia isn't technically family. She doesn't even know how I feel about her.
Never has. But she's the closest thing to family I've had since my mother died when I was sixteen.
The one constant in my mind during the worst days overseas.
The face I saw when IEDs were exploding and bullets were flying and I thought each breath might be my last.
I pull into the Golden Dragon parking lot, killing the engine.
The familiar red and gold sign brings back memories.
Late night study sessions in high school, Olivia insisting Chinese food helped her think better.
Picking up takeout when her dad died, because someone had to make sure she ate.
The easy friendship we had before everything got complicated.
Before I left for the military at eighteen, trying to find purpose.
Before I came back eight years later, broken and bitter.
Before I saw her with Devin and realized I'd waited too long to tell her how I felt.
I order our usual—egg rolls, kung pao chicken (extra spicy), beef with broccoli, white rice, and wait at the counter, scanning the restaurant out of habit. Old couple by the window. Family with three kids in the corner booth. Teenage servers looking bored as they refill water glasses.
Normal. Peaceful. Everything the war wasn't.
Everything the club isn't, with its constant power struggles and tenuous alliances.
My phone buzzes with a text from Knight: *Reaper filled me in. Need eyes on the target?*
Knight is like me. Former military. A man worth trusting.
I text back: *Could use background. Devin Mercer. Owns auto shop on Pine Street. Need to know habits, associates, if he's strapped.*
The response comes quickly: *On it. Will update you later.*
I pay for the food and head back to the motel, the smell of Chinese filling the air around me as I ride. It's nearly dark now, the sun setting behind the mountains that cradle Hope Peak. The same mountains that used to feel like they were closing in on me, trapping me here.
Now they feel protective somehow. A natural barrier between Olivia and the wider world. A world that's harder and crueler than she knows.
I park in front of the room and knock three times, our old signal from when I'd climb through her window in high school when I needed to escape my father's drunken rages.
"It's me, Liv."
The door opens immediately, like she's been waiting right beside it. Maybe she has.
"That smells amazing," she says, stepping back to let me in. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."
I set the food on the small table and shrug off my cut, laying it over the chair again. Olivia busies herself opening containers, the familiar routine somehow making this strange situation feel almost normal.
"Did you get—"
"Extra duck sauce? Yeah." I pull the packets from the bag, along with plastic utensils and napkins.
She smiles, a real smile this time. "You remember."
"Like I said, I remember everything." I keep my tone light, but the weight of the words hangs between us.
The familiar food brings back memories of simpler times. I watch Olivia gradually relax, some of the wariness leaving her posture as she focuses on the meal.
"This was a good idea," she says finally. "I haven't had Golden Dragon in months." A shadow crosses her face. "Devin doesn't like Chinese food."
Of course he doesn't. Probably doesn't like anything that brings her joy.
"His loss," I say simply, passing her another egg roll. "More for us."
She takes it, her fingers brushing mine in the process. The brief contact sends a jolt through me that I try to ignore. Now isn't the time. Maybe it never will be.
"Tell me about your students," I say, deliberately changing the subject to something that might make her happy. "You're teaching third grade now, right?"
Her face lights up immediately. "Yes! How did you know?"
"Small town," I shrug. "News travels."
In truth, I'd asked about her a few times when I called my old neighbor Mrs. Peterson to check on her.
The old woman had been happy to fill me in on Olivia's teaching career, though thankfully she'd been oblivious to the abuse.
If she'd mentioned that, I would have returned to Hope Peak much sooner.
"I love them," Olivia says, her whole demeanor changing as she talks about her class. "They're at such an amazing age. Old enough to be independent but still young enough to be excited about learning. And they say the funniest things."
I listen as she tells stories about her students—the boy who brought his pet lizard to school in his pocket, the girl who corrected the principal's grammar during an assembly, the twins who switch places to try to trick her.
For a little while, Devin doesn't exist. The bruises fade into the background. It's just us, sharing a meal and conversation like we used to.
But reality can only be held at bay for so long. My phone buzzes with a text, and when I check it, Knight's preliminary report on Devin fills the screen. The mood shifts instantly as I read through the information, my expression hardening.
"What is it?" Olivia asks, noticing the change.
I consider lying, protecting her from the details, but she deserves the truth. "My club brother did some digging on Devin."
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth. "And?"
"He's got priors. Two assault charges from before he moved to Hope Peak. Both against ex-girlfriends. Both dropped when the women refused to testify."
Olivia sets her fork down slowly, her appetite clearly gone. "I didn't know that."
"There's more. DUIs. Bar fights. Pattern of escalating violence." I look up from the phone, meeting her eyes. "This isn't his first time, Liv. It's just his pattern."
She swallows hard. "I really know how to pick them, don't I?" The attempt at humor falls flat, her voice cracking on the last word.
"This isn't your fault." I set the phone down, leaning forward. "Men like Devin target kind people. People who see the best in others. People who give second chances."
"People like me." Her eyes fill with tears that she blinks away furiously. "Stupid, naive people who believe every apology."
"Stop." My voice is firm but gentle. "You're not stupid. You're hopeful. You believe in people. That's not a weakness, Olivia."
A tear escapes despite her efforts, sliding down her cheek. "Feels like one right now."
Without thinking, I reach across the table and brush the tear away with my thumb. Her skin is soft beneath my calloused finger, and she freezes at the contact, her eyes widening slightly.
"Trust is only a weakness when it's given to the wrong person," I say softly. "It's a strength with the right ones."
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the years between us seem to disappear. I'm just Tyler and she's just Olivia, two kids who grew up relying on each other before life pulled us in different directions.
She's the first to break the connection, looking down at her half-eaten food. "I should have called you sooner," she says quietly. "I was just... ashamed. I didn't want you to know how bad things had gotten. How stupid I'd been."
"You called when you were ready. That's what matters." I sit back, giving her space. "And I came. That's what matters too."
She nods, wiping away another stray tear. "Thank you. For coming back. For helping me. For not... judging."
"I'd never judge you, Liv. Never."
A small, sad smile touches her lips. "Even though I'm a mess?"
"Especially then." I return her smile with a slight one of my own. "We're all messes in our own ways."
"Even big bad bikers?" she teases, the humor a clear attempt to lighten the moment.
I play along, grateful for the shift. "Especially big bad bikers. You should see these guys try to figure out their taxes."
She laughs, the sound bright and unexpected in the drab motel room. I've missed that laugh. I've missed her.
"So, what now?" she asks after her laughter fades. "Besides your 'talk' with Devin tomorrow."
I consider the question. The immediate danger is Devin, but there are longer-term issues to address. Where Olivia will stay. How to ensure her safety moving forward. What happens when I need to return to the club.
"One step at a time," I say finally. "Let's deal with Devin first. Then we can figure out the rest."
She nods, accepting this. "Will you... will you stay here tonight? In the room, I mean." A blush colors her cheeks. "I don't think I can be alone right now."
"I'm not going anywhere," I assure her. "I'll be right here."
Relief washes over her face. "Thank you."
As we clean up, Olivia yawns, the exhaustion of the day clearly catching up with her again despite her earlier nap.
"You should get some rest," I tell her. "It's been a long day."
She nods, gathering her toiletries from her bag. "I'm going to take a shower first, if that's okay."
"Of course. Take your time."
As she disappears into the bathroom, I check my phone again, reading through the rest of Knight's report on Devin. Each detail confirms what I already suspected. The man is a time bomb, and Olivia is lucky to have gotten away before he did even worse damage.
Tomorrow's confrontation can't come soon enough. The predator in me, the part that emerged in the war and was honed by the club, is eager for the hunt.
Because that's what this is now. A hunt. And Devin Mercer is the prey who doesn't know he's already being stalked.
The water runs in the bathroom as I continue planning. By the time Olivia emerges in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair damp and her face free of makeup, I've mapped out three different approaches for tomorrow's meeting.
I try not to stare as she moves to her bed, but it's hard. Without makeup, the bruise around her eye is more pronounced, a sickly yellow-green that makes my blood boil. But she's still beautiful, still Olivia, even with the evidence of Devin's cruelty on her face.
"Your turn," she says softly, nodding toward the bathroom. "I left you a clean towel."
I gather my things and head to the shower, grateful for a moment alone to clear my head. The hot water helps ease the tension in my shoulders and the constant ache in my bad leg. As I wash away the day's stress, I try to focus on the mission, not the woman in the next room.
The woman I've loved since we were teenagers.
The woman who has no idea how I feel.
The woman who needs a protector right now, not another complication in her life.