23. Hawk
23
HAWK
I sit at the head of the table, my gaze drifting over the faces of my brothers.
Fuck. I’m tired and all I want to do is crawl into bed with Izzy, feel her little mouth wrapped around my cock. My mind can’t help but picture her lips moving up and down my length as her hair falls in soft waves around her face, her cheeks flushed with arousal. Her small hands grip tightly, fingers tracing over the veins on my shaft.
“Cannabis farms have been secured.” Tank, ever the optimist, reported. “We’ll oversee them until we figure out what we want to do with Dead Demons.”
“They’ve called for a truce for now,” Jacks says, at the other side of the table.
“A truce?”
He nods. “Some of their guys were working with Reynolds too. They’ve got their own shit storm to deal with. The damn bastard was trying to control the whole industry in the city.”
“Hawk? Earth to Hawk!” Tank nudging my foot under the table.
“Yeah, I’m listening.” I refocus. “We’ll use this time to regroup, clean up the aftermath of this whole shit storm.”
“We need to tighten security,” Vance adds, his expression serious. “We can’t afford any more surprises. Not after everything that’s happened.”
“Agreed.”
“We’ve also got to consider our public image,” one of the newer members says, his voice hesitant but earnest. “Reynolds tried to paint us as the villains. We need to turn that around.”
I crack a smile, leaning forward. “No. I don’t think so. Let’s make sure everyone in California knows not to fuck with us. We are the Hellfire Riders. We don’t go around with our tails between our legs. Understood?”
“Understood, Prez.” The room erupts in a chorus of agreement, fists slamming on the tabletop in solidarity.
The room falls silent, each man considering my words. We’ve been through hell, and it’s time to remind everyone who we are.
Jack clears his throat. “So, we show them strength?”
“Exactly,” I say. “We’re not the villains, but we’re not pushovers either. We need to send a clear message.”
“Understood,” Tank says, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll make sure the message is loud and clear.”
The meeting wraps up, the tension in the room slowly dissipating as the guys file out, each with their own tasks to handle. I follow them out, but my mind is already ahead of me, with Izzy. Just as I reach the door, it swings open, revealing a man in a crisp suit with a polished badge gleaming on his belt. It’s the lead officer, there the day we found Laina and captured Reynolds. Detective Mason.
“Hawk,” he says, his voice carrying the authority of a man used to giving orders. “We need to talk.”
I gesture for him to follow me back into the meeting room.
Tank and Vance linger by the door, their expressions wary.
“What can we do for you, Detective?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. I was getting real sick of these guys.
“We have a proposition for you,” he begins, his tone measured. “We need to contain this situation with Reynolds. The last thing we need is the public finding out that one of our own was the Puppeteer, working with criminals and going on a killing spree. He also had an accomplice at the station, an officer named Logan.”
I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “And what exactly are you proposing?”
Mason takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “You keep your mouths shut about Reynolds and his activities. In return, we leave you and your club alone. No raids, no surveillance, no interference. We’ll chalk this up to a rogue officer acting alone.”
Tank and Vance exchange a glance, but remain silent, waiting for my response.
“So you want us to lie,” I say, my voice flat. “Pretend none of this ever happened.”
Mason’s jaw tightens slightly. “Not exactly. Just... omit certain details. It’s in everyone’s best interest to keep this quiet. The department can’t afford the scandal, and you don’t need the heat.”
I carefully mull over his words, weighing the options in my mind. The stakes are high and the offer is enticing. We've already been through so much and the last thing we need is more trouble from the law.
Mason's expression softens ever so slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Reynolds will be put away for a long time. The charges we have on him will stick. He won't see the light of day again. But it's crucial that we control the narrative, the story we present to the public."
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest as I consider his words. "We'll think about it," I reply.
Impatience flashes across Mason's face, but he quickly regains his composure with a nod. "Fair enough. But don't take too long. The longer this drags out, the harder it becomes to contain."
As he turns to leave, Tank steps forward, his imposing figure looming over Mason. "One more thing, Detective. We have our own ways of dealing with problems. If we find out you're playing us, all bets are off."
Mason's expression falters for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he forces a tight smile and replies, "Understood."
With that, he exits the room with a soft click of the door closing behind him.
“Seems like a fair trade,” Vance says with a sigh, sinking into the chair across from me. “The Dead Demon and the cops off our backs at the same time. It’ll give us air to breathe. Get everything back in order and under control.”
“We’ll play their game for now, but we keep our eyes open. If they try to screw us over, we’ll be ready.”
Neither one of them says anything, and I can see the exhaustion start to take its toll. It’s been a hell of a week, and we’re all running on fumes.
“Let’s call it a night,” I say, pushing myself up from the chair. “We’ve done what we can for now.”
“Wait!” Tank holds up a hand. “Who's going to give our gift to Izzy?”
We all exchange glances in the room.
“We all will,” I say, pushing my chair in. “She’s ours now, and we’re hers, plain and simple.”
“About damn time the four of us agree on something,” Vance says with a smirk.
As I push open my bedroom door, the sight of Izzy lying fast asleep. Her hair cascades around her face, and she looks so serene, so beautiful, that it takes my breath away.
“She’s out like a light,” Tank whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Can’t blame her,” Vance murmurs. “She’s been through a lot.”
She’s here, in my room, our home, in nothing more than one of my shirts, taking my breath away and I can’t believe it’s real.
The mere sight of her, in my shirt and tangled in my sheets, is like a match sparking a wildfire in my chest, igniting every nerve and desire within me. The way her body is exposed beneath the fabric, the curve of her hips and the dip of her collarbone, it drives me wild with desire.
My heart rate increases and my body heats up, all from just looking at her.
I move quietly across the room, not wanting to wake her, but as I approach the bed, her eyes flutter open. She blinks sleepily, her gaze focusing on us.
“Hey,” she says softly, her voice thick with sleep. “You’re back.”
“Hey,” I reply, my own smile matching hers. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” she yawns, stretching like a cat. “I don’t mind. I could get used to this though.”
“What’s that?” Vance asks, joining us at the bedside.
“Waking up to the three of you.”
God, her words are like a caress, and I can feel my resolve crumbling. She’s quickly becoming my weakness, and I don’t even care.
Tank chuckles and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Well, get used to it, sunshine. We aren’t going anywhere.”
“I like the shirt,” I say, tugging at the edge of it. The outline of her nipples underneath causes a surge of heat to rise through me. I’m losing control.
She blushes, and my heart melts. “Thanks,” she mumbles, subconsciously covering her chest. “I uh, didn’t have anything else to sleep in.”
“It suits you,” Vance says, his eyes caressing her body just as mine had.
“I’d prefer you with nothing on,” Tank adds. We share a look, and I can see the same thought in their eyes: we want her. We want her and only us. An awkward moment of silence passes and I realize it’s going to be up to me to start the conversation.
“We have something for you,” I say.
“Oh?” She cocks an eyebrow with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
I take her left hand and slide the ring I had made onto her ring finger. It’s a simple band of gold, adorned with a stunning emerald-cut diamond. The stone catches the light of the bedside lamp, casting a flicker of light over her face.
“What is this?”
“We want you to be our old lady,” Vance says. “All of us.”
“Every damn inch, sunshine,” Tank replies, a possessiveness in his voice that I can relate to.
She looks at each of us, unable to hide her shock or the desire in her eyes. “I...”
“We’ve talked about this,” Tank adds, his hand resting on her shoulder. “You’re a part of us, Izzy. We want to make it official.”
Tears well up in her eyes, but they’re tears of joy. She looks down at the ring, her fingers trembling. “I... I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes,” I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. “Say you’ll be ours, forever.”
She swallows hard, her eyes glistening with tears. “Yes,” she breathes, a smile breaking across her face. “Yes, I’ll be your old lady.”
We all embrace her. I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, unable to get enough of her.
“We’re a family now,” Vance says, his voice thick with emotion. “A real family.”
Izzy nods, her smile radiant. “I love you all so much.”
“We love you too,” I say, my heart full. “And we’ll protect you, always.”
“There’s one more thing, though,” Vance starts, opening the bedroom closet door to procure a wrapped box. “Why don’t you go ahead and open this up.”
I hand the box to Izzy, watching her delicate fingers trace the edges, her nails grazing against the paper. My eyes are glued to her as she carefully pulls back the tissue paper, revealing a bomber jacket with a patch sewn onto the back that reads 'Hellfire Riders.'
Her breath catches in her throat as she lifts the jacket from the box, and I can see the mix of emotions playing across her face.
"This is for me?" she whispers, her voice filled with awe.
I nod, smiling warmly. "It's for you."
"Try it on," Tank says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. Izzy glances at the stunning ring on her finger, then back to the jacket.
“Oh, God. Laina is going to freak out,” when I go visit her tomorrow.
We’re all watching her intently, our focus entirely on her. She’s our desire, our everything. Izzy arches her back and rises off the bed, a fluid motion that captivates us all.
“Where are you going?” Vance asks, his curiosity piqued.
“I want to see what it looks like,” she calls back, walking down the hall.
Moments later, she returns, and my heart stops. I think all of our hearts do.
There’s Izzy, standing in front of us with nothing else on but that damn jacket.
“Well, fuck me,” Vance gasps.
She tilts her head, as her long hair cascades down to the small of her bare back.
“Perfect,” I breathe.
Vance’s hands are white knuckled at his sides, and Tank is speechless, which never happens.