3. Hawk
3
HAWK
F uck. My shoulders and chest are sore, I roll them back, quickly stepping off my bike. Rock and roll blasts through the club house. The evening air is heavy with the sweat scent of burning weed. I thought a quick early night ride might help soothe my thoughts, but I was wrong, and now, I’m late to whatever the hell Vance and Tank got planned.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. I’ve got a damn headache coming on and I’m not in the mood, but Vance said I should come out tonight. He was adamant I wouldn't want to miss this. There’s a long stretch of bikes parked out on front.
So here I am.
Can’t let the guys think I’ve left them. A cool breeze rushes through the thick tall trees that surrounded the well-loved bar. I like to think of this place as my own wolf den hidden in the dark, heavy woods. It’s nothing pretty but it’s the place my brothers to let loose and catch a breather every now and then.
I push through the swinging doors, round the corner. The place if full tonight, each one of my men wearing their Hellfire patches proudly. Hanging out near the pool tables are Mace and Gunner, along with Vance. It’s dimly lit in here with the familiar blanket of smoke covering the air. Vance must be in charge of the music because Red Hot Chili Peppers is blasting through the scratched speakers. I run a hand through my sweat covered hair, groaning as I take a seat at the bar.
“The hell’s everyone all amped about?” I ask.
Jacks, our resident bartender, slides a whiskey my way. “You’re late, Hawk.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter before tossing back the entire drink.
Fuck me. I needed that. “So, what’s going on?”
He eyes me for a long while, silent gray eyes studying me. I stare him down. I’m not in the mood to be picked apart. Though, I’ve hardly been in the mood for anything, except getting shit down around here, which no one seems interested in.
They don’t understand, and I can’t expect them too either.
I’m the one responsible for all this, for the whole gang. I grasp the glass tightly in my fist, waiting as Jacks takes the cue to fill it back up. If I’d been better, more on my game then I wouldn’t have lost one of the guys.
“You honestly don’t know?” Jack’s ask.
“Fuck no. All I know is that Vance told me there was a party going on tonight at the clubhouse.”
Jack throws his head back with a wicked smile that turns into uproarious laughter. His golden tooth gleams in the dim light. I fail to see what’s so funny right now.
“God damn, Hawk.” He shakes his head laughing to himself still. I drum my fingers on the bar, waiting for the punchline to hit me.
“What the hell?” I press.
“Hey, we were just about to bet on whether you’d show up.” Vance boasts, rubbing the back of his neck where his tribal tattoo stretches from his ear to the back of his head.
“I told you I’d come out.”
“I thought for sure Tank was going to have to pry you out of your shop.”
I don’t argue with Vance on that. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, it’d be working on my art. I glance down at the silver ring on my finger. I carved matching ones for my two top guys, my left and right hand, Tank and Vance.
“Well, I’m here,” I growl. My already thin patience is about to break.
“Yeah, but are you really here, Hawk?” Vance asks. “You've been off your A-game lately.”
“My A-game is none of your fucking business.”
“When it starts messing with the chapter then yeah. It is my business.”
“Hey! I didn’t come here tonight for a god damn lecture, Vance,” I say dryly. He sighs, leaning his elbow against the bar. He sticks a thin toothpick between his teeth and begins to absentmindedly pick.
“What the hell’s going on?” I ask again in a way that tells him I won’t ask it again.
“Jesus, it’s your damn birthday, Hawk.”
Two heavy hands slam down onto my shoulders, giving me a rough shake.
“We’re throwing you a party, asshole,” Tank bellows. He’s already drunk. There’s a hazy cloud in his brown eyes.
“A party?” I repeatedly stare at the two of them.
“Hell yeah,” Vance laughs. “You think we wouldn’t celebrate our president?”
“Plus, it’s a reason to drink,” Tank adds on, walking behind the bar and grabbing a fifth of bourbon.
“You’ve never needed a reason,” I mutter under my breath.
“See?” Vance says. “There it is. The Hawk I know and love.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I mumble.
“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow!” Tank sings his heart out over the speaks, catching the attention of everyone. The men waste no time, laughing and raising their beers toward the ceiling. They sing together in unison then cheer loudly. I raise my drink in response to them. I smile then. Damn, do I love these men.
I lean back in the stool, looking over the crowd that continues to grow in size as it grows later in the night.
After an hour, I decide to head back to my metal working shop. It’s quiet there. There I can think, plan our next moves. We’ve got the feds breathing down our necks and the Dead Demons encroaching on our turf.
I want nothing more than to end them.
By then Tank and Vance will be too drunk to even notice I’ve left. Vance wraps an arm around my shoulder then.
“Does my guy have a girl for the night?” he asks.
“No thanks,” I grunt.
“Come on,” Vance prods. He takes a hearty swig from his beer,
“I said no thanks.” He sideeyes me for a moment, patting my leather vest.
“Are you good?”
“Fine,” I lied.
“Bullshit. You look more like death than usual, man.”
He’s right. I haven’t slept in days. My eyes feel like lead, sunken in my head. Guilt eats at me like a fucking parasite. They know this though, and that’s why they’ve decided to throw a party.
Tank elbows me hard in the chest.
“What about her?”
Who?
I follow his line of sight to the far end of the bar, where a woman in a tight red dress sits alone. High slit, low V-neck, long legs crossed over one another. A smile on her face that screams fuck me.
Our eyes meet briefly for a moment.
Something’s off about her, like she doesn’t belong here. A sheep who’s wandered into the wolf’s den, except this one’s trying to wear a wolf’s fur. My eyes narrow for a moment.
“Who’s she with?” I ask.
“Does it matter?” Tank prods. “No one’s gonna stop you.”
No one ever does. They know better.
I shake my head and down the remaining whiskey. It’s not typical for a single woman to find her way in here. If she was from this part of town, then she’d know a hell of a lot better than to step foot into our clubhouse without a clear invitation.
Or maybe I’m just being paranoid.
For now, it’s not my problem.
“I'm going out for a smoke,” I grunt, pushing off my stool. I need to clear my goddamn head.
“Are you going to talk to her?” Vance asks, eyebrows shooting up in amusement.
“If he doesn’t you should,” Tank says, nodding his head.
I push past them and make my way through the kitchen, out the back door. Out here, the air smells clean and fresh. A cool night breeze settles through the leaves.
Pulling a smoke from the pack in my jacket, I light it up. I take a drag, exhaling. I should be happy, drunk as a skunk wasting my night being a complete jackass, but I can’t relax like that anymore. I knew being President wasn’t going to be easy, but I hadn’t expected to lose a guy so quickly. I’m the reason a bullet ended up in his back.
“Mind if I join you?”
I don’t look at her. Of course, she’d find her way out here. “Suit yourself, darlin’,” I say through a puff of smoke.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
She’s way too polite for a girl who’d be hanging around here.
She shuffles through a purse slung over her shoulder. I study her out of the side of my eye. She’s a pretty little thing. She pauses for a moment, and I half expected her to pull out a gun and tell me she’s with the police, but she doesn’t.
Not yet anyway.
She finds a pack of Marlboros and sticks it between her lips, waiting for me to light it for her.
I offer her my lighter and she leans in close to catch the flame on her cigarette, our bodies brushing. Our eyes meet, her hazel ones locking with mine. I can see the mischief dancing in them, daring me to make a move.
I don’t bite.
“Thanks,” she purrs.
“What are you really here for?” I ask, not even trying to hide the suspicion lacing my voice.
“I wanted a smoke,” she shrugs, blowing a gray ring out of her mouth. I notice she doesn’t inhale, just lets the dark smoke rest between her red painted lips.
“Really?” I probe, not buying it for a second.
“Fine.” She sighs, taking another drag. “I wanted to see the man everyone’s been talking about for myself. You’ve got everyone in the city interested.”
“You’re talking about me?”
She gives me a big, white toothed grin, resting her hands on her hips.
“Of course. I heard it’s your birthday.”
“Vance and Tank like to talk,” I mutter under my breath.
“They’re good friends.”
I nod thoughtlessly. This conversation’s forced and pointless, but I will linger out of curiosity.
“Your type would die for one another.” She speaks slowly and articulates as if to make a point. She does, but I can’t tell if she knows it yet or not.
“That’s what happens when you ride together, it’s no longer one man, it's about the family,” I say for some generic response. There’s far more to the commitment we share with one another. We’re all we have out here in our territory. We have to protect one another. I doubt it’s what she wants to hear, but she’s not getting anything out of me.
Sorry, sweetheart.
She nods slowly, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. I stub out my smoke on the ground, crushing the half finished cigarette into the dirt. I’ve had enough with this conversation.
“The three of you probably do everything together, huh?” She asks.
“You could say that.”
“Interesting…” she muses, flicking the butt of her own cigarette into the back parking lot.
We study one another, and behind her eyes I see a million questions dancing there, and she hasn’t even begun to ask any of them.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re actually doing here now that you’ve had your smoke?” I ask.
“Why does it matter?” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking away from me.
“Because I know you didn’t come here just to see me.”
“Is it a problem that I’m here?”
“Oh yeah. Either you have no idea where the fuck you are or you’re sniffing where you shouldn’t be. I don’t know which one is worse for you.”
She stands her ground, resting a hand on her hip.
“I know exactly where I am.”
“Then you know, you’re a dead woman.” I take a step closer, towering over her. She’s short, rather petite and tilts her head back just to meet my eyes.
“I can take care of myself.”
My eyes run up and down her body taking in her blatant lack of weapons or any means to protect herself other than the sass.
“Darlin’, I appreciate you being brave, but that just means you don’t see a bad situation when it’s staring you right in the face.” I chuckle. Is she with the police? She doesn’t seem like the type, but this woman’s up to something. Either way, she’s not going to talk to me just because I'm asking her.
“Listen,” I speak slowly. “It’s my birthday, which means I’m in a rather good mood tonight and don’t want to cause a scene; so, listen to me, and I’ll talk slowly to make sure there’s no confusion.”
She rolls her eyes, and I’m partly amused and partly irradiated because she really has no idea the trouble she might end up in once the guys get rowdy.
“I’m going to give you three minutes to turn around and go straight back to wherever the hell home is for you, alright?”
Her lips press tightly together. At least she’s smart enough to understand a threat when it’s given.
“Three minutes?” She repeats.
“Time has already started.” I glance down at my watch, then turn back to her, giving her the courtesy to get the hell out of here, and if she waits a second longer, I might start getting pissed off. “Tick. Tock,” I mutter under my breath. “Time’s running out.”