Maybe that will help ease me back onto the group’s good side.
I might drug men who are being a pain in the ass, but I’m also really good at figuring out why people do the shit they do.
Mostly because it took me years to figure out my own reasons for being what I was.
Am.
“Are you and Hawk coming to the cookout this Saturday?” Kerri’s voice is more relaxed than before.
There’s literally nothing having your hair brushed can’t fix. At least for a little while.
“Is your mom still having it?”
“Yup. She’s refusing to let her boys miss out because of-” Kerri lifts her hands into air-quotes, “that jackass.”
Go Jill.
Maybe she’s stronger than I realize. I hope so.
Cause this could get real ugly.
****
“THANK YOU FOR coming back to get me.” I settle into the seat beside Cook.
“Hawk doesn’t want you alone.”
So he’s not doing it for me. He’s doing it for Hawk. That’s fine. Maybe he’ll start to like me for Hawk too. I’m about to ask if he got the whole delivery thing worked out while I was at Kerri’s when Cook starts talking again.
“Has Hawk told you anything about how he came into The Knights?”
I’m a little surprised at the turn the conversation is taking. “Um. No.”
Cook blows out a breath. “His dad went to prison.”
The information isn’t extremely surprising, given what I know about King and his recruitment methods. He liked to prey on vulnerable kids. Boys who had no one who cared about them and needed a place to go.
Lost boys the world forgot about.
But...
“What about his mom?”
Cook presses his lips together. I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me any of this.
So why is he?
“She’s dead.”
Two words that bury an ache in between my ribs in an instant.
“His dad killed her.”
He turns to me just as we park in front of my house. “And the man he caught her cheating on him with.”
Don’t tease me with other men.
Hawk’s words come flying back at me full force. All I can do is stare out the front window. I have so many questions but I’m not sure I have the right to ask any of them.
But there is one.
“Why are you telling me this?”
None of these guys like me, let alone trust me enough to share Hawk’s deepest darkest secret.
Wait.
No one in the club has ever been nasty to me. Not one mean word has ever passed their lips in my presence.
No words really pass their lips in my presence.
They don’t talk to me. Avoid me at all costs.
Cook barely glances my way then shifts in his seat, putting more distance between us.
For Hawk. Just not in the way I thought.
The truck engine shuts off and I climb out, trying to work through what Cook just told me.
And all it actually means.
First of all it means I’m not as good at reading people as I thought.
I shove my keys in the door. Then I remember Cook is still here. I turn to where he should be in the driveway. “Thank—”
He’s right behind me. I crowd a little closer to the door, suddenly looking at my continuous attempts to get the guys to talk to me in a completely different way.
Like Hawk might see it.
“I just need to check and make sure the house is empty.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I step back and let Cook go in, waiting beside the door under my carport. There’s no sign of Preacher anywhere, meaning my house was unattended for a while.
Hank peeks his head out the door, shoving his nose into my palm. “Hey, handsome.” I know no one’s in there. No way would Hank be this chill if there was, but Cook can still check if it makes him feel better.
I squint down at Hank.
Why didn’t he try to eat Cook?
Cook passes through the kitchen on his way to the front of the house. Hank ignores him.
“Maybe you’re not as good of a guard dog as I thought.”
“Nah. He’s killer.” Cook skirts Hank’s big body, patting his back as he passes through the doorway Hank’s taking up. “Hawk had us make nice with him last night after you went to bed.” Cook crouches down and Hank all but knocks him over, coming in for more attention.
“That was a good idea.” I go in while Hank is assaulting Cook with is version of doggy affection.
Cook finally manages to get back on his feet, using the back of his hand to wipe at the line of slobber on his cheek. He stands there for a minute.
He has something else he wants to tell me. I wait, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. At this point I need all the information I can get.
Because nothing is what I thought it was.
“Hawk’s out of his element. Don’t give him too much shit about it.”
Biker speak for ‘be gentle with the giant man who threatened to dismember someone yesterday’.
I nod. “Thank you for taking me to see Kerri.” I point back to my fridge. “You want anything to drink?”
Cook holds his hands up and takes a step back. “Nah. I’m actually going to be heading out as soon as Preacher gets back.” He stops backpedaling and gives me a small smile. “Thanks though.” Then he turns and heads to his truck.
I shut the door and lock the deadbolt then go in to flop onto the couch, face down.
This is insanity.
Not the Horsemen-King thing. Outside of worrying for my friend and her mother I can’t find the head-space for it to occupy.
Because it’s all currently taken up by what Cook just told me.
Shaun’s dad killed his mom.
And her lover.
How does something like that affect a kid?
And the man he grows into?
I can imagine a little boy, devastated by the loss of his mother, shoved into the kind of life King used as a shopping center for new members to his fucked-up club.
I sit up on the couch, the ache in my heart for Shaun replaced in an instant by the burn I know all too well.
It’s what my parents called the devil in me.
They literally believed Satan resided in me. Spent hours of my life being prayed over in church because of something I did to prove it to them. Some knee-jerk reaction I had that could only be caused by the devil.
Or just a kid who was pissed and didn’t have a filter or self-control.
But I don’t fear the burn anymore. There’s no one to judge me for being a little too reactive.
And I can’t help but be reactive.
King has fucked with too many people that I care about.
And that might include Shaun.
Because the more I think about it, the more everything is starting to make sense.
12
“KITTEN?” I SET my bag down on the counter.
The house is silent. I know she’s here. Preacher said Cook brought her home from Kerri’s and she hasn’t set foot outside since.
But it still bothers me.
Makes me worry.
No one could have gotten in here. I know that for a fact. Between Preacher and Hank I know my girl is safe.
But where the fuck is she?
I move down the hall. As I walk there’s a steady thumping coming from one of the rooms. Like a song with only the bass on.
Or someone fucking a headboard against a wall.
My heart starts to pound and the blood in my veins turns to fire, making it almost impossible not to bust through the door and start swinging.
I take a deep breath and fight the urge. Shelly isn’t like the mom I can’t really remember anymore.
And I’m not like my old man.
I won’t be.
I twist the knob and the thumping gets louder.
Now I can hear there’s more than thumping coming from this room.
>
Shelly is singing along with whatever song is blasting through the headphones she’s wearing, swinging her arms—
Nope. I think she’s dancing.
While she’s running on a treadmill.
I lean against the door frame and watch her run, completely oblivious her concert has an audience. Her singing is off key and her dancing isn’t much better.
But it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
A completely unguarded moment and now it belongs to me.
Her song must be winding down because the singing stops. Shelly’s head turns my way and her eyes widen.
She loses her footing, catching the sole of one shoe on the side rail. A second later she’s going down, belt still running on the machine. I lunge into the room and manage to snag her around the waist as the belt flings her flailing body toward the wall. I’m off balance, and the combination of shit happening sends us to the ground. I pull her close, making sure all the impact of the fall is on me.
The floor is harder than it looks, and my shoulder bangs against something solid as I hit.
But Shelly is fine. Laughing actually.
She yanks off her headphones. “That’s what you get for spying on me.” She leans in and presses a sweaty kiss to my lips. “How was your day?”
Her question plants a warmth in my chest I’ve never felt before. Something comfortable and easy.
It’s the normal sort of question a woman asks when a man gets home. Or vice versa.
But I’ve never had normal.
Never seen it in real life either.
“Good until a second ago.” I push up, rolling my aching shoulder as I sit on the black mat-covered floor. “What in the hell did I—” I turn to look at what banged the hell out of my shoulder.
“Is that a stripper pole?”
My blood heats again, instantly thinking of my girl teasing other men for money.
For any reason really.
It’s a reaction I’ve always had. The whole reason I’ve shied away from anything more serious than a simple fuck.
Because I knew it could make me dangerous.
Like my old man.
And I wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Not with everything else in my life the way it was.
But now I have to be.
Shelly sits back on her heels, giving me a little space. “I’ve never worked as a stripper.” She shrugs. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I have a lot of strippers in my classes. It’s a good way to get through school.” She stands and holds out her hand like she can help my big ass up off the floor. “I took some classes for fun.”
I take her hand and let her think she’s helping me as I work into an upright position. “Stripper classes?”
She gives me a smile. “Pole dancing. It’s a good work-out.”
I study her for a minute. She’s not being snarky.
At all.
Not giving me shit for questioning how she lives her life. “Show me some moves.”
Shelly shifts from foot to foot chewing her lip. Finally her shoulders shove back and she marches to the pole. In an easy and practiced move she grabs it to one side of her body and leans back, sending her legs up and over her head until she’s upside down, legs spread and out, toes pointed.
She tips back upright and plants her feet on the ground before spinning to face me, brows up. “Happy?”
“Nope.” I move in a little closer. Maybe the domestic bliss I’ve always imagined but never let myself want isn’t exactly the right sort of domestic bliss for me.
I’m not looking for a woman to be in the kitchen making dinner when I walk in.
I would be happy with a woman working the pole though.
“Show me some more.” It’s a fantasy custom made for me. A sexy woman working a pole like she owns it for my eyes only.
But Shelly’s not playing. She lifts a brow. “Dances are twenty big guy.” She shoves at my chest and walks out into the hall, only making it a few steps before stopping. Her nose twitches. “Did you bring dinner again?”
“Course.” I move in behind her, wrapping one hand around each hip as I suck on her neck. It’s salty and damp from her work-out. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my girl?”
It comes out all on its own. I shouldn’t have let myself think it. Made it too easy to say.
Mostly accidentally.
“Your girl?” It’s quiet when she says it. Makes it hard to tell how Shelly feels about being mine.
Not sure I want to know just yet. So far being my girl hasn’t really been great for her.
I walked out the first time we got close and ignored her for a week.
Then she ends up confined to her house with round the clock babysitting.
Probably not most women’s idea of the perfect relationship.
Best thing I’ve done is get her off. At least I’m real good at that.
Speaking of.
I slide one hand down her belly to the waistband of her work-out pants. She doesn’t try to stop me when I push under the clingy fabric. I hold her tight against me with one arm while my fingers find their way lower.
“Spread your legs, Kitten. Wide. I want room to work.”
Shelly’s head falls back to my shoulder when I find her clit.
But her feet don’t move.
“Come on, Kitten. The faster you get those feet apart the faster you get to come on my fingers.” I give her clit a little pinch the way I know she likes. A reminder of how good what I do to her feels.
Finally her feet shift on the floor, giving me enough room to get my palm between her thighs.
It’s not enough though. I want more. I use one foot to scoot hers farther apart.
“I can’t stand like this.” Her voice is a whimper as I slide one finger in her cunt.
“Fair enough.” I lift her off the ground with the arm around her chest and the hand tucked against her hot pussy. A few seconds later I fall back to the couch, bringing Shelly down onto my lap, using my knees to force her legs as wide as I can make them.
She’s hot and wet as I start to work her up. I’ve been thinking about this all damn day. Waiting for the minute I’d get to be here again, hearing the whisper of my name on her lips.
Shaun.
I can’t get enough of the way she says it.
Like I promised, I make her come quick and easy. No teasing right now. Just giving her what she needs to encourage her not to be too pissed about the current situation.
Same reason I brought dinner again.
Shelly’s putting up with a lot because of me.
And I’m not sure there won’t be more before it’s all said and done.
Her body is heavy and relaxed on mine. I wrap both arms around her and hold her close. “You hungry?”
I can feel her stomach rumble under my arms.
“Alright, Kitten.” I shift to one side, scooting her onto the couch so I can get up. I grab the take-out bag from the counter and pull out the foam containers. The food is still surprisingly hot so I grab what we need and carry it out to the coffee table. Shelly is still sitting on the couch looking a little glazed.
“You okay?”
“Hmmm?” She wiggles up to a sitting position.
“You look a little out of it.” I smile. I like knowing I’m the reason she’s having a hard time right now.
She takes the container I hold out. “I just think I’ve had more orgasms in the past week than I did all of last year.”
I keep breathing. What Shelly did before I came along doesn’t matter. I can’t be jealous of that.
Just like she can’t be jealous of the women who came before her. Shouldn’t be either.
They didn’t matter.
Maybe that’s what I’m upset about. Maybe that’s what bothers me.
That she might have had someone who mattered to her.
And I’m not sure I do just yet.
She suddenly sits up straight. “Not that they were f
rom anyone but me.”
I didn’t hear that right. I’m sure of it.
But she keeps going.
“I haven’t been with anyone in a while.”
It’s June.
She said last year.
That means she hasn’t been fucked in a year and a half?
Hadn’t.
“I can see you doing the math in your head.” Shelly chuckles a little as she opens the lid on her dinner. “Oh. Spaghetti.”
But I’m not done with this conversation yet. “You hadn’t had sex in a year and a half?”
Shelly shoves a big bite of pasta in her mouth and shrugs. “Didn’t know anyone I wanted to fuck.”
A year and a half. That’s a long fucking time.
I shouldn’t be happy about it.
But I am. Like knowing she’d rather go without than be with someone she didn’t really want to fuck.
Means she really wanted to fuck me.
“Can I ask you something?”
My fork stops mid-air.
No good conversation starts with that question. Not ever.
But what the fuck am I going to say? No?
“Sure.” I shove the forkful of spaghetti into my mouth and start chewing even though I don’t really want to.
Shelly sets her container on the table and turns on the couch. “Why don’t any of the guys talk to me?”
“Cook wouldn’t talk to you?”
Good.
“He did a little, but didn’t really seem too excited about it.” She tips her head to one side the way a woman who already knows the answer to her question does. “Why would he not want to talk to me?”
Do I fess up? Tell her the truth?
That I couldn’t trust myself to see one of them near her, but was too big of a pussy to go near her myself?
I know what’s in my blood. The fucked-up shit that passed from my father’s brain to take up space in mine.
The jealousy.
The rage.
Didn’t want to put that on her.
Still don’t.
“I thought you were all upset about that thing with the Sparkle.” Her eyes barely narrow, taking in every move I make.
“You mean when you tried to drug me?” Maybe I can shift the direction of this conversation and save my demons for her to meet another night.
One in the very distant future.
“I don’t remember there being any try to it.” Her lips curl into a smile. “I succeeded.”
Hawk Wild (Lost Boys MC Book 2) Page 11