Chapter 12
Katarina
Well that was great. I was tired, my back hurt, my ass hurt, and I was in a strange place with strange people. I should have known my reflexes would kick in faster given my nervous system was on overdrive.
After a sleepless night, I’d quietly slinked out of bed and managed to collect my things to head back to my own room.
It was too early to get ready for the day, but too late to try to sleep.
Instead, I’d enjoyed one last workout in my training room before showering and packing up my weekender bag.
I also managed a very short call to Klara and disappointed her terribly when she learned nothing happened.
Between blowing off steam, very little sleep, and a very long ride with a bunch of women I barely knew, it would seem the haze had been lifted. I was fully aware of my new reality, especially after pulling into the compound.
It wasn’t as large as Papa’s home, but it was a large building, very plain with a few doors and windows.
But there were motorcycles everywhere. The grounds were not lush and manicured.
There were fire pits, barrels, grills, and tiki torches all over.
Picnic tables scattered the courtyard, along with a few chairs here and there.
Further down, near the treeline, there were houses.
Small and quaint. The yard behind the clubhouse seemed to stretch a good way, and everything was encased by tall trees.
There was a huge building where we all parked that seemed to be their garage.
The whole place was very private, much like home.
Except there was no gate, and I was fairly certain nobody would be coming to open the door or collect our bags.
The women were amazing, but when Shiv let me go to show me the way and I couldn’t see Hawk, all of my instincts went to full alert. So when a hand randomly grabbed my ass, I didn’t think, I just reacted.
After the night before, I knew it wasn’t Hawk.
Of course it wasn’t because he barely touched me aside from grabbing my arm to walk me around so he surely wouldn’t be getting a handful when I didn’t expect it.
Plus, he clearly wasn’t interested in touching me.
But he was my husband. If I knew it was him, nothing would have happened.
As it were, I was sure it wasn’t and just because I was in a place full of outlaws didn’t mean I was going to take anyone’s shit.
I just wished I didn’t give myself away.
Rooster opened a door down the hall and tipped his head. Walking inside, my eyes immediately went to the large tapestry on the back wall. It had their logo with a list of names beneath it. Walking closer, I skimmed the names as if I’d recognize any.
Except at the end, one was familiar: Raven Jones.
“Was this… was this Hawk’s father?” I asked, turning around. But he was gone. “Okay, then.”
Strolling around the room, I looked at the pictures.
All of the men gathered in their leather vests, some standing with each other with arms crossed, looking awfully gruff.
Some of them stood next to their bikes. A few of the pics were taken from behind as they rode in groups.
They seemed to range over a span of years based on the graininess of some of the pics and the styles of motorcycles, as well as the places in the background.
The walls were like a photo album of the club through the years.
No women in any of the photos, though, but outside plenty of women were around. Plenty.
I was still gazing at the photos when the door flew open so I twisted around just in time to see Rooster had been standing outside as Hawk stomped toward me, caging me against the wall. A picture fell after my head bumped it and Rooster closed the door discreetly.
“What the hell?” I asked, flattening myself against the wall.
Hawk’s lids were mere slits, making his light eyes eerie as they stared down at me. “You tell me, Katarina. What the fuck was that? Huh?” This was the most emotion I’d seen from him. Even when he cut his own hand open, he didn’t flinch.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He banged the wall next to my head, my eyes steady on his. “Bullshit. I’ve been around women my whole life and not once have I seen someone your size lay out one of these guys.”
Stretching my neck, trying to get more on his level, I snipped at him, “I hope you don’t expect me to let just any man here put his hands on me.”
He leaned closer, and I swore he inhaled my scent before he said, “Nobody here lays a finger on you but me.”
“Except your friend, Rooster, of course,” I replied.
His jaw ticked. “You know what I mean. Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not playing anything. I do not play, husband. While gentle, he did in fact, have his fingers, and his hands on me,” I taunted, standing on my toes now. I still was much shorter, but he was bent down to tower over me. I would match it as best as possible.
His jaw worked side to side.
“Does that bother you?” I asked with a faux pout. “That a man had his hands on me? Hmm?”
A low rumble rose from his throat. He started to bend down further, his warm scent mixed with gasoline, or maybe oil, and the faint smell of leather hit me in the face. The mix of smells and his large, intense presence did things to me I wasn’t happy about.
It took every ounce of will I had to not strip down right there and let him take me on the weathered table.
The look in his eyes had me wondering if he was thinking the same thing.
They didn’t look down, but the way they scanned my face, along with his deep breathing sent heat pooling low in my belly.
Still, I kept my chin jutted out, ready for anything, good or bad.
“You want to hit me?” he asked.
Scowling, I asked, “What the fuck are you going on about?”
“Your tiny, little fists are balled.”
How did he see that? “I’ll do what I must.”
“You didn’t flinch when I pulled a knife out last night?”
“I am not afraid of you.” That declaration was true. At least last night. He wouldn’t harm me in my father’s home.
“Then why are you ready to throw hands?”
Stretching as far as I could, I gritted through my teeth, “Why do you have me pinned to the wall?”
He smirked, then pushed off the wall, putting space between us. “Please,” he said as he pulled a chair out, “take a seat.”
Sighing heavily, I sat and relaxed my fists. He stood, so I folded my hands in my lap and asked, “Does it make you feel like a big man to scare women?”
“Are you just a woman?” he asked, crossing his arms.
My brows shot up. “I can assure you, I’m all woman. Which you would know if you’d done your husbandly duties.” Desperate much? At least it came out snarky. But fuck, why was this so hot?
He chuckled, uncrossed his arms, then leaned down, his hands on the wooden arms of the chair. Once again, he was inches from my face. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad about last night?”
“Mad?” I scoffed. “Hardly. Just an observation.”
“Who are you, wife?”
I crossed my arms. “I tire of your riddles. What are you asking me?”
“Are you a spy?”
Coughing didn’t work to stifle the laughter. In fact, it made it worse. My arms uncrossed and I hugged my waist as the laughter got louder and harder.
“Why are you laughing?” he demanded as he slammed his hands to the arms of the chair.
“Hawk, that’s quite a leap,” I said between breaths. “I didn’t even want to be here.” That was blunt.
“Well, you are.”
“Yes, Captain Obvious. We both are. Man and wife.”
He stood briefly, then he pulled the chair from the head of the table out and finally sat down. He brushed his hand over his hair then blew out a heavy breath. “How did you do that back there?” His voice was less aggressive and shaky now.
“I’ve trained in several forms of martial arts since I was a child.”
“Why? Shouldn’t you have been doing ballet or something?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the table.
“Why?” I sneered. “Because I’m Russian? Because I’m a woman? Or do you think I’m a little girl?”
“Goddamn,” he mumbled, looking at the ceiling. “You always this combative?”
“Are you always this accusatory? You question my motives when I have none, then insult my abilities.”
“We have enemies from all sides. Some we’ve yet to identify. So yes, I’m suspicious. Of everyone.”
“Wow,” I huffed. “Being married is more than I could ever dream.” Gripping the arms of the chair, it was my turn to look at the ceiling. I fought to keep tears from blinking out of the corners of my eyes. Not sad tears, angry and frustrated ones.
He said, “I agree.”
Standing and pushing the chair back, I exploded, my accent slipping out.
“How dare you? I am so far from home!” I started ticking off on my fingers as I continued, “Far from my only friend, far from my training room, far from my mother’s restaurant, and don’t even have all my things.
” I threw my arms up. “I haven’t seen my new home, and I’ve barely seen the clubhouse that is apparently so important to you, after being felt up by some stranger.
This is all yours!” I shouted, my arms slapping down on my sides.
“And now so am I, but instead of getting to go relax after being in a fucking car for twelve hours with a bunch of women I just met, my new husband is chastising me for defending myself. So Goddamn you, Hawk,” I told him. “ I agree,” I mocked with air quotes.
I’d just shouted at my husband. And cursed at him. And mocked him. Shit. It wasn’t like me to keep having outbursts like slamming a glass to the ground or screaming at men in power. I’d had a rough few days, though.
He stood slowly and my adrenaline rushed through me as my heart raced. But I stood unmoving. I wasn’t lying when I said I was not afraid.
He came closer and reached out. I was determined to not flinch. But he didn’t grab me. He gently took my hand. The soft warmth sent a jolt of electricity up my arm.
Still holding my hand with one, he covered it with the other.
“You’ve had a long day. You need food, and rest. I’m sorry I insulted you.
I’m not sorry I questioned the motives of your father, but didn’t mean to imply I was questioning yours.
And nobody here will touch you again. You have my word.
If they do, they’ll cease to exist. And while I certainly didn’t plan to be married, you’re right.
This is my club and my home. But it’s your home now, too.
I hope you can start to feel that way soon.
We both have to make the best of this, right? ”
“Right. Thank you.”
He said lots of kind things, and he apologized.
But Goddamn if he didn’t say nobody here would touch me.
He probably already had his favorite women.
After the heated discussion and his clear concern about me being here, I decided now wasn’t the time to broach the subject.
But if he wasn’t going to touch me, and he had other women, surely there would be an agreement of some kind for me, right?
Except as dumb and antiquated as it was, I didn’t want anyone but my husband to touch me. And the idea of any other women touching him made my blood boil.