Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JOHNNY “HAWK” MANN
The sound of Chestnut barking forces my eyes open, and I groan. When a man who hasn’t slept through the night in years gets his first uninterrupted night of sleep, it fucks with him. Nothing registers at first, not even his surroundings.
But the dog doesn’t seem to give a fuck, and neither does the person banging on my fucking door.
“Come on, Hawk, everyone is already in the chapel,” Ink bellows.
I’m never late for church, but something doesn’t feel right. I press the heels of hands to my eyes and force myself into sitting position. That’s when I get hit with a waft of vanilla and citrus.
Jo.
I drop my hands from my face and turn my head, expecting to find her fast asleep on the other side of my bed. But she’s not there.
And I’m instantly flooded with memories of last night. I’ve fucked a lot in my life, had my good share of women too, but I never experienced anything like that before. Just thinking about it makes my dick twitch. The way her greedy little body took everything I gave and begged for more. Sex with Jo was unmatched, and a man could easily become addicted to her.
“That’s it,” Ink growls. “I’m coming in.”
Shaking the thoughts of me and Jo aside, figuring she’s probably in the bathroom, I toss the comforter off my body. My bare ass stalks angrily toward the door, and I pull it open.
“What the fuck, man?” I sneer. “Church isn’t supposed to be for hours. I cleared this shit with Maverick. He’s knows I got shit to do this morning.”
Ink stares at me, a bemused expression clouting his face.
“It’s noon.” He pauses and narrows his eyes. “You take something last night? That sleeping shit the doctor prescribed?”
A couple of months ago, the doctor prescribed me sleeping pills, but they didn’t do shit. I flushed those fuckers down the toilet. Ink knows this, though, so I’m not really sure why the fuck he’s asking. And what the fuck is this shit about it being noon—that can’t be. I set my alarm.
“Your girl left hours ago. Torque saw her leave.”
My eyes widen at that, and my spine straightens. I quickly turn around, my gaze darting all around the room, searching for any trace of Jo.
The Mary Poppins bag is gone.
Her shoes are too.
Still not willing to accept that Ink is right, I charge for the bathroom. The towels from our shower are still on the floor, but all those fancy bottles of moisturizer she had lined on my counter are missing.
Anger surges through my veins and I swipe a hand roughly over my face.
“I’m guessing you didn’t ask her to leave,” Ink says from behind me.
I peel my hand away from my face and turn to glare at him, but a pair of shorts smacks me in the face. “Bro, put some fucking clothes on. Your junk don’t need to be out while you lose your shit.”
“Fuck you, Ink,” I growl as I pull on the shorts, the waistband slapping against my abs once I got them on. “And no, I didn’t ask her to fucking leave.”
“A first for you.”
I ignore that comment and step around him, making my way to the other side of the room. I grab my jeans off the floor and feel into my pockets for the keys to her car, but sure as fuck, they’re not there. Seems like I’ve been fucking had.
“As entertaining as this is, I should probably remind you that the New York guys are here, and we look like a bunch of clowns keeping them waiting,” Ink says.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him the New York guys can fuck right off, but I refrain. Instead, I try to make sense of why Jo would run. Yeah, she was skittish. The girl gave me hell all day, but she initiated everything that happened last night. She guided my hands under her shirt and fucking begged for my cock.
I wanted her more than anything, don’t get me wrong, but I had zero intentions of making my move last night. Wasn’t even sure I’d make one period. But a man can only take so much.
Spotting my phone on the nightstand, I reach for it. The girl thought of everything. Even had the sense to shut my phone so the fucking alarm wouldn’t go off.
“Hawk,” Ink calls.
I power on the phone and turn to him. “I need a minute. Just tell Maverick that.”
Arms crossed against his chest, he clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Fine,” he bites out. Then he saunters out the door and I pull up Jo’s number. To my surprise she answers the call on the third ring. Normally the sound of her voice would get my blood pumping, but all it does is fuel the anger burning inside of me.
“What the fuck, Jo?” I bark, grabbing my clothes from the floor.
“Johnny—”
“Don’t fucking Johnny me,” I growl as I wrestle with my jeans, pulling them up my legs. “I’m not into games. You went through an awful lot of trouble to sneak out on me this morning and I want to know why.”
“I didn’t sneak—"
“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” I snap. “We had a plan.”
“Yeah, well, sex wasn’t part of the plan,” she sasses.
Her words are as effective as a punch to the gut, and I don’t like it. I’m not the guy who does morning after routine. I’ll fuck you, and I’ll fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked, but I won’t make you breakfast.
However, Jo wasn’t just a willing body to me.
I put that girl on a pedestal.
Told myself I didn’t deserve her.
That I’d never measure up.
But if I ever got her, I was gonna do right by her.
She’d be the girl that got best of me.
“So, that’s it? Got a couple of good orgasms and you got spooked. I didn’t take you for the fuck and run type. If that’s your style, I’m down with it. Makes things a lot easier for me. I’m a fucking pro at fucking and leaving, baby. I can teach you all the tricks.”
“I’m working. I can’t do this right now. I’ll call you later.”
“The fuck you will,” I sneer before disconnecting the call.
There’s nothing she can say that I’m gonna wanna hear, and I’m late for church. I grab my kutte from the chair and shrug it on, then my gaze lands on Chestnut, and I bite out a curse.
“Bet she didn’t think to feed you before she left,” I mutter. “Come, boy. Let’s get you something to eat and some water.”
“I’m to keep y’all waiting,” I say, taking my seat at the table. My gaze flits to Maverick, and I give him a curt nod. “Won’t happen again.”
He seems to assess me for a moment, then tears his eyes away from me, and glances at the president of the New York charter.
“We’re good to start.” He lifts the gavel and slams it against the table. “Church is in session.”
The two leaders don’t waste any time with small talk, jumping right into the reason for New York’s visit south.
“I’m gonna preface this by saying this has nothing to do with the current partnerships our two charters hold. We’re not here to discuss the Sinaloa cartel, or the gun contracts. We’re here to propose a new venture that we believe will not only help keep our finances on the up and up, but also clean up the image that’s been staining our patch since that shit went down with King and Valeria,” Wolf says. “And with any luck, it will keep the pigs at bay too.” His eyes dart to Maverick. “I don’t know what goes on down south, but up north the police are more interested in nailing us to the cross than they are murders and rapists.”
“We’ve had our share of heat,” Maverick supplies. “Especially since the shooting at Sally’s.” He taps his knuckles against the table and leans back in his chair. “We’re open to hear what you have to say.”
“Then, I’ll turn it over to Bishop,” Wolf says.
My problems with Jo take a backseat, and I narrow my eyes curiously at the guy who has been making frequent trips here.
“As you all know, I’ve got a teenage son. What you don’t know about Connor is that when he was just a little kid, I lost custody of him. It’s not something I’m proud of, and I still wrestle with those demons every day. My son wasn’t put into the arms of his mother and protected like he should’ve been. He was sent to live with her brother, who abused the fuck out of him, and when I got wind of it, I did everything in my power to get him back, but I got sent behind bars instead, and my son continued to suffer at the hands of a monster.”
The man doesn’t have to elaborate. I think we can all connect the dots, and I suspect that’s exactly the reason why the room goes so silent. Every man with a reaper on his back is silently concocting a plan of vengeance. Half of us don’t know the kid, but that don’t matter. Children are innocent beings. They don’t ask to be put on this earth. They get a couple of carefree years to kick it in the dirt and live free. They’re not supposed to live in fear.
My fists clench on top of the table as Bishop continues.
“While I was away, I linked up with Blackie, and that’s how I found the club. They didn’t know me from Adam. Never met my son. But they heard my story, and they connected with a local organization in Staten Island, another biker club whose mission was to protect children from any and all abuse. They stood with my boy when I couldn’t, and they got him to safety.” He pauses, emotion clogging his throat, making it hard for him to press on. “I will be forever indebted to them, and my brothers too.” He lifts his head, and his eyes find Blackie’s from across the table. “I owe them my life.” Another beat passes, and he drags in a ragged breath, cutting his gaze back to Maverick. “Since then, we’ve been working closely with this other club. Their mission is solid, and the work they do…” His words trail and he shakes his head. “It’s God’s work, man. From kids like my boy, to babies suffering from cancer—they go to war for them. For their families too. You see people like you and me, doing selfless shit like that, and you can’t ignore the desire to join them. Most of us sitting at this table have already punched our ticket to Hell, but that don’t mean we can’t do a little good before we get there.”
Riggs clears his throat and removes his sunglasses. “As you guys know, we operate out of a bar I purchased years ago.”
“Big Nose Kates,” Ghost supplies with a nod. “Great wings, man.”
Wolf scoffs. “Our penne and vodka is nothing to sneeze about either. But that’s neither here nor there.”
One thing about these guys—they take their food very seriously. It doesn’t matter that we’re in the middle of a fucking serious discussion. The first time we visited their clubhouse they drew guns on us and asked us where the pignoli cookies were. We couldn’t even pronounce the word.
“Right, so when we’re not frying wings, and boiling macaroni, we host a fundraiser for this organization,” Riggs says, veering the conversation back on track. “We call it A Night With The Knights.”
“Sounds like a male revue,” Shady chimes in.
“Yeah, well, Bishop, here, has been known to take his shirt off and gyrate on top of the bar from time to time,” Blackie reveals.
That makes me raise an eyebrow, but Bishop just shrugs.
“It’s for the kids,” he argues.
“So what are you asking us to partake?”
“Well, we are getting older,” Wolf volleys. “But, no…it’s bigger than that. The organization is growing, and another charter is set to open here in North Carolina in a few months, and we’d like to help them get off the ground. Stage a fundraiser here in your backyard. A Night With The Knights has picked up a lot of traction over the years, and we think that doing it in another state would be beneficial.”
“People aren’t traveling to New York so much anymore,” Riggs says.
“Can you blame them?” Ghost quips. “Ya’ll got good food, but who wants to pay twenty dollars for a pound of cookies.”
“Fuck the cookies,” Bas mumbles. “You should see my insurance bill. Bundle and save my ass.”
“Ok, so, you want to host this fundraiser here. You got a venue?” Maverick questions.
“No,” Parrish grunts. “They got a fucking dream and nothing else.” He leans forward, rolling a toothpick between his lips. “Was hoping you’d open your barbecue joint to us.”
Maverick seems to mull that over for a minute, then sighs. “I would. No questions asked. But I don’t think anyone is going to be lining up to visit a joint that’s been all over the news because of the shooting. We just reopened, and business is bad. I can’t pay people to eat there.”
“And our brisket is great,” Leftie adds. “Best in the state.”
“You still moving guns in the carcasses of cows?” Parrish asks.
“Pigs too,” I deadpan. “We don’t discriminate.”
“So we need a venue,” Ghost says. “What about an Elk’s club? Something like that work for you?”
“Well, that’s why we brought our women. With your permission, I’d like to have them sit at the table,” Wolf requests. “They’ve been doing a lot of research and something like what we’re planning isn’t as easy as one might think. Lots of red tape to cut through.”
Maverick nods, and Blackie stands, making his way to the door. A minute later, Holly leads the women into the chapel. Me and a few others quickly jump out of our seats, offering them up to the ladies. Every one of them is well seasoned in the way things work around here, and they get down to business, explaining their vision for what they have dubbed “The First Rollout”.
“So let me get this straight, you don’t just want to rent out any old venue—you want to recreate what you got going on in New York out here in a barn?”
“That’s right,” Charlotte says. “Within reason, of course. We want to bring the Big Nose Kate’s feel to North Carolina. Give it a southern flare. Hence the barn.”
“We’d cater the food from Sally’s, and hopefully that will help draw more business in for you guys,” Bishop says.
“So you want me to find you a barn?” Maverick questions.
“That would be helpful, yes,” Riggs’ wife, Lauren, says. “A pretty one.”
“A pretty barn,” Ghost repeats. “Darlin’, with all due respect, what the fuck is a pretty barn?”
“Well, we don’t want horses and hay…it doesn’t have to be a working barn. If you find a vacant one, we can restore it.”
“Oh, I love a DIY project,” Charlotte preens.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. These guys got their hands full with their women.
“Y’all gonna restore a barn in North Carolina while living in New York?” Leftie questions, his bushy gray eyebrows arch so high, they’d hit his hairline if he still had one.
“Well, with Connor attending camp down here, I plan on visiting a lot. I can do it,” Charlotte says.
“How about we just find you a fancy barn already done up?” Ink suggests. “Less work for you.”
“That works too. Doesn’t it, babe?” Bishop questions, draping his arm around her shoulders. Charlotte doesn’t look all that enthused.
“I suppose.”
“Alright, when do you want to do this?” Maverick asks.
“We usually do it in New York around October,” Wolf says. “But we’re open to anything.”
The two clubs continue to go back and forth, tossing out dates and decide on the second weekend in March. It’s further out than they originally wanted, but that gives everyone time to do their part, including finding a pretty barn to host this shindig. When church is finally adjourned, everyone clears out of the chapel, and I head straight out of the clubhouse, making a beeline to my bike.
While the reprieve was nice, I got shit to do.
A woman to track down and shake some sense into.