Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
JOHNNY “HAWK” MANN
The girl who sent me all those letters, and the woman standing beside me are not the same. For starters, the girl who wrote the letters didn’t have fucking claws. She was nice, sweet even, and she smiled frequently. At least that’s what I told myself when I laid my head down at night. I can’t tell you how many times I drifted off to sleep imagining her smile, but it was often. And when I finally met her in person, it didn’t disappoint.
That fucking smile brightened up the world.
I’d give my left nut to catch a glimpse of it now.
I know that’s highly unlikely though. Who the fuck smiles while picking out their brother’s casket?
“How about this one?” Leftie’s sister, Mable, asks as she runs her hand over a mahogany casket that has gold accents. It’s one of the nicer ones with a hefty price tag attached to it. Andrew would fucking hate it. The guy was as no frills as one could be. Hell, if he was here, he’d probably tell us to put him in a pine box and call it a day.
I glance at Jo, watching as she chews on her lower lip.
She does that a lot.
Girl fucking drew blood when we stopped off at the police station to pick up Andrew’s military I.D. They still didn’t release Andrew’s apartment, and there was no way I was letting Jo inside there without cleaning it first. Since I didn’t know when that would be, and she was in such a rush to make funeral arrangements, I asked Detective Reynolds if he could grab the documents we needed from his apartment.
“I don’t know what to choose,” she says to no one in particular. “Andrew and I never really talked about death. I have no idea what his final wishes were.”
She glances over at me, releasing her lip. A conflicted expression flits across her pretty face. Until now she’s barely acknowledged my presence, making it abundantly clear that she disapproves of me tagging along. For whatever reason, the girl is hellbent on doing this shit on her own. All she sees me as is a fucking dog sitter.
Holding her gaze, I shove my hands into my pockets. I can make it easy for her and offer my opinion, but I’m feeling extra dickish at the moment.
“Well?” she probes.
“Well, what?”
She sighs and turns to Mable. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”
“Certainly. I’ll step outside. Just holler if you need me.”
When she’s out of the room, Jo spins back to me. “Why come if you’re just going to stand there all quiet? I mean you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful.”
See what I mean about those claws? She’s a vicious little thing. A man could have himself a good time breaking down those walls she’s built around herself.
I slick my tongue over my teeth.
“I didn’t know I was allowed to speak.”
She narrows her eyes and glares at me. Love the smile on her, but this is kind of hot too.
“I told you I didn’t need your help, and that offended you.”
“I’m not offended.”
She scoffs. “You’re brooding.”
“What do you want me to do? We’re in a funeral home. Should I start cracking jokes? I hear this place is pretty popular, that everyone’s dying to get in here.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“Yeah, that one’s overplayed. Give me a minute, I’ll think of another one.”
She swats at my chest, and hisses. “Stop it.”
I sigh. “Fine. You want my input?”
“Not really, but I’m willing to overlook that if Andrew might have discussed his wishes with you. This feels like a big decision. It’s the final thing I’ll ever do for my brother, and…” Her voice trails, and she tears hers gaze away from me. Once she’s composed herself enough to speak without her voice cracking, she continues, “…I just want to get it right. I… failed him in life, but I want to make it right in death.” She peers at me from the corner of the eye. “That sounds selfish, doesn’t it?”
I tried not to read too much into the fact that she seemed clueless when I shared that Andrew’s nightmares had returned. He was good at hiding his pain, and he was the type that would shield that dark shit from his sister. But she didn’t know about Chestnut, and now she’s talking about failing him. Something is amiss.
Instead of calling her out on it, I shake my head.
“Sounds like a sister trying to do the right thing to me.”
She stares at me for a beat, those brown eyes filling with tears.
So many fucking tears.
She won’t let them fall, though. I’m learning that ain’t Jo’s style.
“We didn’t really speak much toward the end. I knew he was different, that he was having a hard time adjusting to civilian life. But I foolishly thought that was the norm. I figured he’d just snap out of it one day. Even when things continued to get worse and worse.” She shakes her head and sighs. “Anyway, I’m sorry if I’m acting like a bitch. I…have a hard time with accepting help from others.”
“Really?” I quirk an eyebrow. “I couldn’t tell.”
She cracks the tiniest of smiles, but as quick as it appears, it’s gone. Still, I take it as a win. The girl is gonna make me work for every smile she gives me, and I’m alright with that. Getting something for nothing isn’t as gratifying as knowing you did what needed to be done to earn it.
“Andrew and I didn’t talk about what we’d want if we died, but I don’t think he would’ve gone for the mahogany one. He wasn’t a flashy guy.”
She shakes her head. “No, he wasn’t.”
I tear my gaze away from her and glance at our options. The silver one catches my eye, and I walk over to it, expecting it. It’s simple. Sleek.
I tap my knuckles against the side.
Sturdy.
Not a piece of shit, but not the top of the line either.
“If he were here, he’d tell you it doesn’t matter what box you pick. All he’d ask is that you bury him upside down so the world can kiss his ass.”
A laugh sounds from behind me, and I turn so quickly, I nearly knock over the fucking casket.
Steadying it with one hand, I stare back at Jo, watching as she covers her mouth with her hand. It’s a piss poor attempt to hide the laughter that continues to bubble free, and before I know it, I’m giving into the grin that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
Her smile lights up the world, but the sound of her laugh isn’t anything to sneeze about. A man can get used to that sound. Make it his life’s work to hear it fill his ears over and over.
She slowly drops her hand, still trying to compose herself.
“I should’ve started cracking jokes the second you woke up.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s only funny because it’s true. I can totally picture Andrew saying that.” Her eyes flit to the gasket I’m still holding. “You think he’d like that one?”
I follow her line of sight, giving the casket one final look.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then we should get Mable and tell her we’ve decided which one we’re going with.”
“Yeah. You might want to do that though. If I let go of this thing it’s gonna fall, and I don’t know if they have a ‘you break it, you buy it policy.’ And unless we’re donating one, we don’t need two of these things.”
Another soft giggle sounds from her mouth, and I wink at her.
Fucking winning.
Picking out the casket was probably the easiest of the arrangements. We were at the funeral home for hours. Every time we thought we were finished, there was another decision to make.
There were the prayer cards.
Andrew didn’t pray. He threw it up to God and let the pieces land where they may. We took a similar approach and flipped a coin.
Then the songs for the service.
A Brantley Gilbert tune wasn’t an option, so we left that one up to Mable. We’ll be surprised when the church choir starts singing.
And flowers, can’t forget the flowers.
Andrew wasn’t a fan, but since Jo opted to have a closed casket, she ordered a spray for the top of it. Red roses with a ribbon that read beloved brother.
We picked a grave site, and decided he would have a traditional military funeral, complete with the playing of the Taps and a presentation of the American flag.
The only thing we couldn’t finalize was a date, but everything is done. Once we get clearance, all we have to do is call Mable. She’ll have the undertaker pick up Andrew’s body, and depending what time of day that happens, his funeral can be as early as the next day.
“You missed the ramp for the highway,” Jo says.
“I’m aware.”
“Okay, but you need to get on the highway to make it to my salon.”
“Aware of that too, darlin’.”
“Johnny.”
“Jo.” I peer at her from the corner of my eye. “We just spent three hours in a funeral home. I understand you run on fumes, but the rest of us folk, need to eat something every once in a while.”
I turn her car into the parking lot of Sally’s and spy two familiar Harley’s that belong to Ink and Capone, which reminds me I still need to arrange to pick up my bike from Andrew’s apartment. Just another thing to add to the never-ending list.
Once I find a spot, I exit the car, and move to help Jo out of the passenger seat, but of course she robs me of the opportunity. It doesn’t surprise me. She can’t accept help from anyone, she certainly isn’t going to be keen on having a man open a door for her. That doesn’t stop me from getting the door to the restaurant though, and I swear she mumbles a curse as she enters before me.
Such a prickly ball of sunshine.
At this time of day there is no hostess, so I lead her toward the bar where Capone and Ink are seated.
Now, seeing Ink at the bar— that surprises me. He’s been avoiding this place since the shooting that took our resident bartender, Emmy’s, life. He won’t admit it, but she was more than just another fuck to him, and being here, not seeing her behind that bar, definitely has to be fucking with him.
I pull out a stool for Jo and park my ass in the one next to it, sandwiching myself between her and Capone. He lifts his head, barely acknowledging me as he reaches for his beer. With everything going on, I never got the full story about what happened between him and Tara, and I’m not sure now is the time to bring it up.
My gaze darts over his head and l lock eyes with Ink.
“What are you two doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the poker run?”
“What’s it look like we’re doing?” He retorts. “Maverick canceled the run after you left for the funeral home. With everything up in the air, we’ll just reschedule. New York is still on their way, though. Apparently, we’re gearing up to broker a new business deal with them.”
I raise an eyebrow, but don’t say anything. Having been on the road for Booker & Mann, then getting the call about Andrew right after I returned, there are probably a lot of things I’m unaware of. A deal with New York is just one of them.
Ink juts his thumb at Capone.
“Mav cut him off of at the clubhouse. So now he’s here, drowning his sorrows in whatever is on tap, and I’m the man elected to babysit his ass.”
If I know Maverick, he probably did that on purpose. He’s a master of killing two birds with one stone. The man saw an opportunity to get Ink back into Sally’s and he took it.
Jo clears her throat, forcing my attention back to her.
Raising one perfectly arched eyebrow, she says, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Well, Ink you know.” She nods. “And this here, is Capone. You gotta excuse him, he’s suffering from a broken heart.”
“Fuck off, Hawk,” Capone sneers. “You jack off in a cup so the girl you’re in love with can have a shot at having kids after she’s done battling cancer, then have her break up with you because she thinks it isn’t fair to hold you down while she completes college.” He turns his head and his brown eyes stare daggers at me. “She thinks I’m out fucking around while she’s away. I don’t know if that’s some Maverick and Holly shit she’s reliving, or if that douchebag of an ex-boyfriend of hers really did a number on her. Maybe it’s our age difference. She keeps bring that up too, which is wild since it didn’t seem to fucking bother her before. Whatever it is, I didn’t see it coming. I’m not just suffering from a broken fucking heart, I’m fucking gutted. Girl completely fileted me.” His gaze cuts to Jo. “But, hey, it’s nice to meet you. Whoever you are.”
Jo elbows me in the gut, and I growl. I thought we called a truce while I was flipping over caskets and cracking jokes in the funeral home.
“What the hell was that for?”
“That was for being an insensitive prick,” she hisses, leaning over my body to offer Capone her hand.
“I’m Jo, and I’d love to buy you a shot. We can be miserable together.”
Capone narrows his eyes, his gaze flitting from Jo’s extended hand to me, then back to her.
“You lost your girlfriend, and I just picked out a casket for my brother. We can throw ourselves a pity party.”
Capone’s eyebrows hit his hairline, but shocked as he is by her bluntness, he slowly slides his hand into hers.
“Sorry about your brother.”
“Me too,” she says, giving his hand a firm shake before dropping it and turning her attention back to me. “Switch seats with me.”
We swap seats and she orders a beer for herself and two shots of Hennessey. The duo down the shots with ease, and it isn’t long before they are trading sob stories and ordering another round of shots.
I’m normally one that lives by the if you can’t beat them join them motto, but I let her have her fun…if you can even call it that.
When the bartender brings their second round of shots, I order us some food. I don’t know what Jo likes, so I go a little overboard, ordering everything from the brisket to a house salad. With my order placed, I place the menu back in the holder. Ink stands and turns to me.
“I need a break from this place. Keep an eye on him while I go smoke.”
I look at Capone, who is describing in great detail how embryos are stored to Jo, then my gaze swings back to Ink.
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
He doesn’t bother with a reply, he just takes off toward the back of the restaurant. The food comes a short while later, and I fix a plate for the two lushes. Capone declines his, and Jo barely acknowledges hers. Apparently, Ink isn’t the only one on babysitting duty.
Pushing the plate in front of her, I lean over Jo’s shoulder and find her ear.
“Eat.”
Her shoulders straighten just like they did this morning and her back arches in an attempt to slither away from me. Since we’ve already established that I’m feeling extra prickish, I don’t let her get away that easy. I slide my arm around her waist, pressing my palm flat against her stomach, holding her still while I inch even closer.
“You gotta eat, Jo. Leftie ate most of your breakfast this morning and while I’m sure you’d argue just for the sake of arguing, Tic Tacs are not part of the seven food groups. You like meat?”
She turns her head slightly, eyeing the plate I placed in front of her.
“Depends on the meat.”
“Well, the meat here is top notch.”
Her eyes find mine, and she pulls her lip between her teeth. I already offered up my left nut, but I’d give the right one too if it meant I was privy to the thoughts inside her head. Peeling my hand away from her stomach, I drag it up to her mouth and pinch her lip, pulling it free from her teeth.
“Stop doing that. You need something to bite, I’ll give you something to bite.”
“Yeah, like what?”
Fuck. I was not prepared for her voice to sound all raspy like that. It’s sexy as fuck and the sound shoots straight to my cock. You know a man has truly reached an all-time low and needs to get laid when he’s trying to get a woman to eat before she falls on her face, and all he can think about is her choking on his fucking meat.
Keeping my eyes pinned to hers, I pluck a piece of brisket from one of the baskets and bring it to her lips, challenging her.
“Go ahead. Bite it.”
Her tongue sneaks out and wets her lips, then she rolls her eyes and opens her mouth, taking the most unladylike bite I’ve ever seen a woman take. For fuck’s sake she bites my fingers.
I snatch my hand away, inspecting the teeth marks that decorate my skin.
“Jesus, Jo. You nearly took my fucking fingers off.”
“It would’ve served you right for uttering such corny lines.” She chews the brisket. Her eyes roll again, this time a little more dramatically as she moans loudly. “Oh, Johnny, your meat is so good. Give me more.”
Fucking claws I tell you.
And sharp fucking teeth.