43. Hawke
Hawke
“ S hut the fuck up about Pretty Woman , or I’ll shoot you myself,” Eli growls, irritated, as we park outside a bar on the outskirts of Boston.
Outside, two men are standing near the entrance, and a long row of motorcycles lines the curb.
I almost drool at the sight of them. Dutton is the only one who has a bike himself.
I was strictly warned off owning one because, well, as my mother says, I’m reckless.
So when she found out I’d bought one when I was twenty, she set it on fire.
I didn’t bother buying another one because nothing stays secret from her.
The two men size us up as we stride toward them. Ford pockets the keys, and I’m so up Eli’s ass that if anything were to happen, I can push him out of the way.
“Boys,” Eli says, and I can tell the way he’s addressed them has already pissed them off.
Under normal circumstances, it would make me very excited and have me grabbing for my gloves that are half hanging out of my back pocket.
But we don’t want to go to war with Waylon Striker’s motorcycle gang. “We’re here to see Waylon.”
“Pretty boys from New York finally make an appearance, eh?” one of them says.
“Thank you for noticing our good looks,” I can’t help but reply, and their attention snaps to me.
“Oh fuck off, Clint. Let them in,” a woman with long brunette hair says as she appears from around the side of the bar. She has the same brown eyes as Waylon and is almost as intimidating as the club president.
“I’m Hayley, Waylon’s sister.” She introduces herself to Eli, holding out her hand. He takes it.
I vaguely remember Dutton mentioning that Waylon had two sisters. And apparently, Hayley is as crazy as her brother and rules with a fair but iron fist. The youngest sister, Lola, however, is known to be more eccentric in her methods.
Hayley adjusts her leather jacket, pushing back her hair as she looks me up and down with a smirk.
Eli glances at me with a strict don’t-you-fucking-go-there expression.
Which he’s done in the past, but I’m a kept man now.
I’m not even tempted in the slightest when I have the most beautiful woman waiting for me at home.
She leads us inside. My understanding is that this is one of many bars the Boston Delinquents own, but Waylon’s most likely brought us to this one—basically in the middle of nowhere—just in case this meeting goes bad.
Especially considering he has quite a delicious round-up of rough-looking men and women in here.
Two men are playing pool toward the back of the room, one breaking the balls as we walk in. Women stand from their men’s laps, and some of them even go into another room.
But the person who grabs our attention is the man himself, sitting at a table on his own like a king overseeing his empire.
Waylon is young for being the club president, and from what I’ve heard, he’s had to make examples of some men who weren’t happy about following him after he killed their previous leader.
I don’t give a shit; it’s above my pay grade.
If the jackass weren’t in leathers and wearing a stern expression, he’d probably break many women’s hearts. Fuck, he probably does that anyway.
“That’s it?” a woman asks from across the bar. We all turn in her direction. She has light brown eyes and pink hair rolled into two buns on top of her head. “You three think you can take all of us on?”
“No one is taking anyone on, Lola,” Hayley says as she moves to stand by Waylon’s side.
“Excuse my sister,” Waylon says, glaring at Lola. “She doesn’t seem to understand that this meeting is under friendly circumstances. Right, boys?”
I look around the room at the men who show the guns at their waists and the chains dangling from their hands. Ford is doing the same, quickly measuring how many we’d have to take out. Eli looks at none of these things; he’s probably already figured out his next three moves. He’s here for answers.
“Good to see you’re doing well,” Eli says, and he and Waylon both smile like the devils they are. My blood hums with anticipation.
“We’ve recently had an influx of date rape drugs and the like in our area. It’s not something we tend to circulate ourselves, let alone allow someone else to do so, specifically not under my management.”
Waylon’s eyebrows knit together. “We have a good working relationship, but if the issue isn’t on my turf, I have no interest in dragging my boys into something that doesn’t concern them.”
Eli nods as if agreeing. He’d say the same thing if the situation were reversed.
If anything, Waylon sounds slightly more diplomatic.
“There was a murder in Springfield committed by one of the supplier’s men.
The murderer is only a pawn, but as we… dealt with him, it was your name he spoke as the supplier,” Eli says.
The tension in the room shifts.
“You believe him?” Striker asks, his gaze turning deadly.
His men straighten up, the closest one playing pool walking over with a cue stick, proud of the knife in his other hand.
I try to push away the excitable chills running along my skin, reminding myself I’m not here to kill anyone today. These are our friends.
“If I did, do you think I would have so politely knocked on your door instead of busting it down?”
Striker smirks. “It’s what I like about you, Eli. You get straight to the point. But I have no need to drag my men into it. Sure, let’s say, theoretically, the distributor is in Springfield, but I won’t act until it’s on my turf. No offense, but this has nothing to do with our current business.”
“What if I asked for a favor?” I speak up, and Eli frowns.
Ford warily watches me. I don’t often speak over Eli, but I have no intention of going around in circles here when I know that on the other side of this could be a direct answer or name.
I need to bring down the assholes who put everything into place to drug Ivy that night.
They’re nothing but vermin that need to be exterminated.
I’m not above begging or pleading when it comes to protecting my woman.
Striker’s eyebrow raises as he looks between me and Eli.
“A word, Hawke,” Eli says, calling Ford and me both out for a moment.
“Want to tell me why you’re throwing out favors for information now?” Eli asks, not at all impressed.
I swallow hard as Eli and my brother stare at me. And then I look at my feet, trying to figure out what to do. Lying always feels icky for me. But when it’s Ivy’s secret, it’s different. I can’t stand to know that those fuckers might get away with this again and again.
“It’s personal,” I finally say.
“Be more specific,” Eli growls, and I’m torn between giving my boss the answer he needs to hear and not betraying Ivy’s trust.
“Ivy was drugged and targeted by Jared,” Ford blurts. I whip my head in his direction, but he just looks straight ahead, not meeting my gaze. I want to throttle him for telling her secret, but I realize he’s protecting me from breaking my word to Ivy. Billie most likely told him.
“He did what?” Eli barks, his silvery gaze snapping at me. “Why didn’t you tell me this? She’s one of our own.”
“Not everyone wants their wounds on display,” Ford says on my behalf. I want to punch him as much as I want to hug him. Eli looks at him then and seems to understand.
“Had I known about this earlier, it might’ve changed things.” Eli sighs. “Jewel likes Ivy.”
“Everyone likes Ivy,” I say, pointing out the obvious and realizing I have to come back to the point. “Just please let me talk to Striker.”
“I don’t like you making deals with other devils,” Eli carefully says, glancing back at the bar. “But if you think it’s the most effective way to get answers, I’ll give you five minutes. We don’t mention this again.”
“Agreed,” Ford says, and a wave of relief passes through me, knowing they mean to bury this information with them. I look at my brother with a silent nod of appreciation. Ford has always saved me from saying the wrong thing. This time, he saved me from holding my tongue.
When I walk back into the bar, Striker is waiting.
He lights a cigarette and tells his men to stand down.
His youngest sister watches me curiously.
Perhaps a few months back, I would’ve made it my goal to fuck her before I leave, but I find myself at the mercy of someone I consider a colleague.
And I’ll continue throwing myself on my knees for my woman.
If I can burn down the nest of fuckers who did this to her, I will.
“We’re not asking for your help. You don’t have to bring your men into the situation; we can handle it ourselves.
I’m just asking for a name if you have it.
For whatever reason, that pinprick asshole knew yours.
Which means that his higher-ups are also aware of you.
I just need a name. A starting point. Please. ”
“Begging doesn’t suit you, Hawke,” Waylon says.
“Anything suits me if it protects the people I love,” I reply quickly.
His fingers hover in front of his lips, the cigarette pinched between them. “This is personal for you?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” He considers me as his sister leans over and whispers something into his ear. He nods but says nothing. She looks over to the youngest sister, whose arms are crossed over her chest, and she stares from the corner like she’s in detention or something.
“Give me access to your tracker to help me with something, and I’ll see what I can find out,” he states.
“Will Walker won’t do me any favors.”
“Then it looks like you’re shit out of luck,” Waylon says with a fake smile.
“You give me a name, and we’ll take them out before they become a problem for you, and I’ll give you access to a better tracker.
” I don’t like the idea of bringing my girl into the deal without her permission, but I’m happy to pay whatever price she charges.
Hell, I’ll even buy her a new apartment or wardrobe as a reward on top of her price.
Waylon laughs. “You realize you’ve just downgraded your offer.”
“Not at all. I’m showing you how quickly I need that name, and I don’t want to banter much longer, knowing those assholes are out there. I’ll give you my left fucking testicle as well. Whatever I need to finalize this shit so I can go back to my woman at a reasonable time tonight.”
Hayley chuckles, and Waylon turns to her as if receiving a silent instruction. I wonder if the two work closely together. Maybe she’s the same to Waylon that Ford and I are to Eli. It’s hard to tell.
Waylon is smirking when he meets my gaze again. “It just so happens I have a left testicle myself and have no need for yours.”
“Scared yours will feel inadequate?”
Waylon’s smile grows wider. “How’s the Viagra treating your left nut?”
My smile drops. “How the fuck did that shit get here?”
Waylon laughs as he stands and holds out his hand to me. I shake it as he says, “I might have a source, but let me verify that information and name before I give it to you. I’ll be in touch. Being monogamous looks good on you.”
“You should try it sometime,” I say with a grin.
“You guys might be suckers, but that is not for me.” I shake my head as I walk back through the doors, knowing I once thought the same thing. But when it happens—when she happens—there’s not a thing in the world that will stop it.
But I’m sure he’ll learn that in his own way.
“She’s a very lucky lady,” the youngest sister purrs from her corner as I walk out. “Let me know if it doesn’t work out.” She winks.
“You’ll be waiting a long time, sweetheart. She’s literally the best,” I reply as I take my leave.