9. Hawk
Hawk
My woman’s fingers tighten around mine as we step through the clubhouse doorway.
Orange and black streamers hang from the ceiling along with the other Halloween decorations—fake cobwebs stretching across corners, and life-sized plastic skeletons seated at tables and leaning against walls.
Music thumps through speakers as brothers mill around, preparing for our annual charity run.
I give Aria’s hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the nervous tension radiating from her body.
"Everyone's going to love you," I murmur close to her ear. "Just be yourself."
Her dark eyes find mine, vulnerable yet trusting. She nods, taking a deep breath.
Sure enough, we don't make it three steps before the welcoming committee descends. Angel reaches us first, her petite frame practically vibrating with excitement as she throws her arms around Aria.
"You came!" Angel pulls back, beaming.
Sophie drapes her arm over Aria’s shoulders. "We’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
Luna takes Aria’s arm. "Come meet Rose. She's been dying to see who finally snagged Hawk."
I roll my eyes, but can't fight the grin spreading across my face. Seeing Aria being welcomed into my world like she belongs here settles something in me. Calms the turbulent restlessness inside.
The women drag her to a corner where Rose sits cradling her little one in her arms. Rose smiles up at Aria with genuine warmth in her eyes. I can’t hear what she says, but she adjusts the blanket around the tiny face peeking out.
I’m about to head over, but Ghost's hand lands heavily on my shoulder. "Let the women do their thing," my president says, steering me to the bar where the officers are gathered. “Trust me, Cipher's got eyes on them. And probably three or four cameras pointed their way.”
He's right. Cipher, the club's intelligence officer, monitors everything and misses nothing.
Blade passes me a beer. "So," he says with a smirk, "took you all of what, thirty seconds after you laid eyes on that girl to claim her as yours?"
"Fuck off," I mutter, taking a long pull from the bottle.
Saint laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "Brother, we've all been there. One look at my Luna and I was ready to kill any man who breathed in her direction."
“Ditto with Sophie,” Blade agrees.
The familiar banter washes over me, but my attention keeps drifting back to Aria.
Rose has handed her the baby, and the way her face softens as she gazes down at little Lucas, gently rocking him, has me suddenly going all caveman.
I’ve never before considered having kids of my own.
I always regarded babies as loud and smelly with sewage coming out of every orifice—miniature puking, pooping, pissing machines.
But right now, the sight of my woman with an infant in her arms makes me want to put a baby in her in the worst way.
"When you giving her your cut?" Ghost asks, following my line of sight.
I tear my eyes away from Aria. "Soon, prez. Soon as it can be made.”
Ghost flashes a knowing grin. "I'll get right on it.”
I don’t need to explain to any of them the protective rage that's been building inside me since finding her battered and bruised. They've all been there—finding women who needed saving and claiming them without hesitation. It's like it’s in our DNA as Shadow Reapers or something.
"When you know, you know,” Cipher comments, his eyes still tracking his woman and child.
I grin like a fucking sappy-assed fool when little Lucas wraps his tiny hand around my woman’s finger, and she smiles down at him like he's just performed a miracle.
Yeah, I need to get her belly round with my child.
"You thinking what I think you're thinking?" Ghost asks, nudging my ribs.
"Maybe," I admit, surprising myself.
"Shit," Blade laughs.
"Not right away," I growl, though the image refuses to leave my mind. "But yeah, eventually."
Saint raises his beer. "To continuing the Reaper legacy."
We clink bottles as Abuela, Luna's grandmother, approaches the women. The elderly woman takes the baby from Aria with practiced ease, saying something that makes all the women laugh. Abuela will babysit Lucas while we're on the run.
Angel claps her hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Masks time,” she announces, dragging out a large plastic tub. "Everyone has to wear one for the run.”
The women gather around the container, pulling out an assortment of Halloween masks. I make my way back to Aria's side, slipping an arm around her waist.
"Having fun?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"They're all so nice. I've never had friends before." Her eyes shine up at me, glazed with a sheen of tears.
The simple admission makes my chest ache. "Get used to it," I tell her. "The Shadow Reapers are a family."
Sophie thrusts masks at us—a grotesque demon face for me and a sparkly princess mask for Aria. "Disney princesses for the women, monsters for the men," Sophie explains with a grin.
Aria examines her mask with delight. "I love Jasmine! She was always my favorite."
I slip the demon mask over my head. "Ready to ride, princess?"
Her cheeks flush with excitement. "Ready."
The parking lot fills with the thunderous roar of Harleys firing to life. Forty bikes line up in formation—members and prospects alike, all with grotesque masks, a few have their women seated behind them wearing princess masks.
Ghost leads our procession with Angel behind him, followed by the other officers and their women. As road captain, I take my position on the right flank, feeling Aria's arms tighten around my waist as we pull out onto the main road.
Her thighs bracket mine, her chest is flush against my back, and her breath is warm against my neck. I've ridden this charity run every year since prospecting with the club, but this year is different. This year, I’ve got my whole world behind me.
Our first scheduled stop is at a local tavern—one of the sponsors of our run. The place is packed with patrons and other riders who've come to support the cause. I keep Aria close, my arm around her shoulders as we make our way to the bar. She doesn’t remove her mask.
"What can I get you folks?" the bartender asks.
“Water,” Aria says when I glance down at her.
"Beer for me, water for my ol’ lady," I say, feeling Aria's surprise.
She tilts her head questioningly, but rather than explain, I simply drop a kiss on the top of her head.
We stand in a corner with Ghost, Angel, Saint, and Luna. The conversation flows easily, with the women drawing Aria out of her shell, making her laugh.
I notice the glances Aria attracts from men around the bar—appreciative looks that linger too long on her curves, and a possessive growl builds in my chest.
One particularly bold asshole keeps staring at her ass, even after catching my warning glare. When he raises his glass in Aria's direction with a wink, my patience snaps.
I’m about to teach the dickhead some fucking manners when Ghost's hand on my arm stops me.
"Not worth it, brother," he murmurs.
Aria looks between us, oblivious to the stares. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine," I say through gritted teeth, angling my body to block the fuckhead’s view of her.
Saint catches my eye, understanding passing between us. He nods toward the door. "Time to head out anyway."
I need to get my property patch on my woman asap. Every man in town needs to know who she belongs to—and that anyone who fucks with her will answer to me.