Hawk Wild (Lost Boys MC Book 2)

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  “Yup.” I’m hoping it’s not my boss wanting me to switch sites. This job is centrally located and I can get anywhere I want in fifteen minutes.

  Unless I’m motivated to get there faster.

  “Well hello there, Hawk.”

  My whole body catches fire in an instant. I know that fucking voice.

  And I know there’s only one reason he’d be sounding so happy to talk to me.

  “How’s your day going?”

  I can hear the smile in King’s words and if I could reach through this phone and rip out his throat I would. I stay silent, not trusting myself to say anything right now. Nothing good is going to come out of my mouth and I don’t want to make this worse.

  Whatever it is.

  I pull my cell out of my pocket and send a text to Shelly, praying I’m wrong. That King is just fucking with me.

  Then I text Tracker.

  “Not feeling chatty this afternoon?” King chuckles. “That’s funny, ‘cause I heard your girl is all sorts of talkative. Had to gag her.”

  I grind my teeth together, forcing my mouth to stay shut as he keeps going.

  “I want to trade. Your girl for mine.”

  “You don’t have a girl.”

  “I’ve got two son, and I think I’m being pretty fair only asking for one of them. I’ll even let you pick which one you bring me.” He pauses. “This time.”

  I thought I knew how fucked-up King was. Thought I knew what the son of a bitch was capable of.

  I didn’t.

  “You’ve got an hour. Heard your girl has a pretty mouth. Won’t be able to keep the boys off her long once she gets here.”

  “Where’s here?” I’m not bringing him what he wants, but I’ll sure as hell bring him something.

  King laughs into the phone. A high-pitched sort of sound that’s nothing like I remember. “I knew you were my best shot what with that ruthless old man of yours. Knew the apple couldn’t fall far from the tree.”

  It takes everything I have not to correct him. Tell King I’m nothing like my father.

  Shelly showed me that.

  And now I have to do what my father would never have done for my mother. What King would never do for Jill or Kerri.

  I have to protect her.

  Them.

  And to do that I can’t react. Can’t do what every part of me is screaming I should.

  I have to keep my mouth shut and play his game.

  “Where is here?” I repeat the question. I need to get off this goddamned phone and go find the only thing that matters to me.

  “Come on to that club your girl likes so much.” King pauses and when he starts talking again the relaxed tone of before is gone, replaced by a sharpness that makes me sick to my stomach. “Don’t try anything, son. I’d hate to have to kill you.” He laughs again. “I would though.”

  The line disconnects and I slam it down on the base. “I gotta go.”

  I don’t wait for an answer. I like this job but there are dozens more like it.

  Only one Shelly.

  My cell starts to ring as I run to my car. Tracker starts talking in my ear before I can say anything.

  “She’s only been gone a few minutes. Went to get Hank and didn’t come back. I couldn’t have missed it by more than thirty seconds.” I can hear the engine of a large vehicle in the background.

  Along with female voices.

  “Are Kerri and Jill with you?”

  If Evan gets in a spot it might not just be Shelly on the line.

  King might get everything he wants in one fell swoop.

  “Had to be.” Tracker’s voice is cool and calm but I know he’s anything but.

  Kerri sounds about the opposite. She’s making it hard to hear what Tracker’s trying to tell me.

  “I think it’s one of The Horsemen that took her. One of the neighbors heard a shot and looked out their window just as an old Camaro took off down the street.”

  “He’s headed to The Stable.” I peel out of the lot and head for Horsemen territory. “I’ll go.”

  “How do you know he’s headed to The Stable?”

  “Cause King called me.” I squeeze the steering wheel, glaring at every car I fly past. “What color was the Camaro?”

  ”Yellow.”

  “Got it.” The road won’t pass fast enough. I try not to think about the shot the neighbor heard as I shove my phone into the console.

  Had to have been a warning. My girl wouldn’t have gone willingly. She would have fought.

  She’s probably still fighting.

  Giving hell to whoever drew the short straw and was tasked with grabbing her.

  Taking what belongs to me.

  My phone starts to ring. I answer without checking the screen.

  “Got your girl in my sights.” Gypsy sounds just as relaxed as he always does and for once it makes me want to lose my fuckin’ mind.

  “Where?”

  “Headed south on sixty four. Staying pretty far back so he doesn’t see me, but that damn yellow car isn’t hard to miss.”

  The twist in my gut eases a little.

  We will get her. King won’t even lay his eyes on Shelly.

  Or Jill.

  Or Kerri.

  “He wants to trade her for Jill or Kerri.” I couldn’t tell Tracker. Especially not with the girls in the car with him.

  “Fuck.” Gypsy’s chill tone slips for just a second before sliding back into place. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Stay on them. I’m on my way.” I pick up the pace, sliding between cars, earning more than a few honks and middle fingers shoved my way.

  I open it up when I hit the interstate. Shelly would have loved this. Would have loved getting to be the one to drive it.

  And I didn’t let her.

  It’s the last time I’ll hold her back. She can do any crazy thing she wants to do from here on out.

  And I’ll buy the fucking tickets.

  Once I’m ready to let her out of the fucking house again.

  It’s only a few minutes before I see Gypsy’s El Camino and I pace him for a second before zipping around.

  Because I don’t care if the bastard who took her sees me. Prefer he does.

  Sees the hell that’s coming his way.

  Just as I’m closing the gap between me and the neon yellow Camaro, it takes the exit.

  I almost miss it, cutting across three lanes and driving over the shoulder to make it. I have to run the light at the bottom of the ramp to catch up. Luckily I only have to cut off one old woman who lays into me with her head out the window.

  She’s the only one I feel bad about.

  Everyone else can kiss my ass. I don’t care what happens to them.

  All I care about is Shelly.

  Maybe she does make me weak.

  Because if something happens to her it might break me.

  19

  THIS IS BULLSHIT.

  I know where we’re headed and I’ve got a pretty good guess as to why.

  But we’re not going to get there. I don’t care what it takes. I’m not going to let him use me against Shaun.

  And I might not even let him out of this alive. Not after what he did.

  That means I have to do something.

  And I’ve got to do it quick.

  “Looks like your ex-boyfriend is trying to join us.” Tattoo face fumbles around the space between us with one hand while his eyes dart between the windshield and the rear-view mirror. “Gonna have to nip that in the butt.”

  I roll my eyes. Can’t help it. “It’s nip it in the bud.”

  Tattoo face scoffs and turns his attention my way. “That doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.” He snickers. “Nip it in the bud.” His hand grabs onto the gun.

  The one he used to shoot my dog.

  And that’s why I will probably kill him.

  Luckily I was in shock when he dragged me to his car. Made him stupid enough to zip tie my hands in front of me instead of behind my back. />
  And that is how I will get him. That and some good old-fashioned leg work.

  Tattoo face rolls down the window and shoves his hand out as we hit a bump going a little too fast. The car almost goes airborne, taking my butt off the seat for a second.

  It has to have done the same to him. Knocked him a little off balance. I’m going to use it to my advantage.

  I jump across the seat and onto him, looping my tied arms over his head as I jam my foot against the armrest, praying to God I can mash that button. The electric sound is like music to my ears as I push my forearm against his throat as hard as I can.

  He starts trying to scream as the window quits moving, the motor still trying to shove it higher. But it can’t.

  Somebody’s arm’s in the way.

  “You shouldn’t have fucking shot my dog you piece of shit.” I can’t stop screaming at him. I’ve been a model kidnappee the whole ride, waiting for this moment.

  Not anymore. It’s time for him to see the devil my parents thought was in me.

  Today I’m going to prove they were right.

  He’s wiggling around trying to get his arm loose from the window, wheezing out all the nasty words he can manage, letting me know just what he’s going to do to me when I let him go.

  But I’m not letting him go. Not until he pays for what he did.

  “You’re not going to do shit to me.” I push up on my left knee and it wedges between his seat and the console, shoved in deep by my weight as I use it to gain as much leverage as I can. I ignore the pain as I bring my other knee up and into his gut, the force sinking my knee deeper beside the seat. I can’t get much momentum going but it’s enough to make him cough.

  I’m pulling back for another swing when the car suddenly lurches to one side, bouncing hard enough to slam my head against the roof, the recoil shoving my leg down so far it feels like I’m being stabbed from the pressure. A second later I’m on my side, thrown down as the world starts to roll.

  Glass shatters around me as the car continues to roll, slinging my body around the cab with every deafening shift.

  Then everything stops.

  All I can hear is my heart pounding. I can’t move. Can’t breathe.

  My leg hurts so much I can’t stand it. The pain radiates everywhere. My knee. My hip. It’s fucking excruciating.

  But pain means I’m alive.

  Not for long if I can’t get away before tattoo face makes good on all his promises.

  And then goes to find Shaun.

  The thought is enough to focus the adrenaline racing through my veins.

  Your ex-boyfriend is trying to join us.

  I have to get free and save him. Stop him from meeting the same fate as Hank.

  Hank.

  The pain in my heart instantly overpowers the pain in my leg. My sweet boy. All he was trying to do was protect me.

  And that piece of shit shot him.

  I wipe at the tears clouding my vision as I fight to sit up. I’m going to get out of here and kill that motherfucker even if I have to do it one-legged.

  He’s going to die.

  Sitting up is literally sitting up. The car rests on the passenger’s side and I’m hanging across the seats, knee still wedged against the console. I grab at the headrest of the driver’s seat and pull up, screaming at the knife of pain the move brings. I push through. I’m not a quitter and I’m not a pussy.

  I’m a badass.

  And I’m going to prove it.

  I get my good leg braced against the passenger door and manage to crouch in the sideways car. The windows are all cracked and busted out from the wreck but I can’t get near any of them because of my leg. The fucker is holding me hostage.

  But it’s all that’s holding my hostage. I’m alone in what’s left of the car. Tattoo face is gone. I blink the last of my tears free and look around the crunched-in interior.

  How the fuck did he get out?

  “Shelly!”

  Oh God. It’s Shaun. The tears start again and the lunch Jill made me threatens to come up.

  “Don’t come here. He’s going to shoot you.” I scream it at the top of my lungs. I can’t lose both the men I love in one day.

  Both because they were trying to protect me.

  “Run. Please run.” I reach for the door handle, trying to pull myself up. I need to stop him. Keep him away.

  “Shelly!” He’s so close. Too close.

  Shaun’s going to get hurt because of me. Maybe I am what my parents said I was.

  A curse.

  And I put it on Shaun.

  “Stop moving, Sweetheart.” Someone grabs my shoulder, squeezing tight. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” The hand squeezes hard enough to drag my attention from the door I’m desperately trying to get out of.

  I turn to look between the seats to the partially missing back window. Shaun is right against it, one arm shoved through to me. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

  I shake my head. What the fuck part of run doesn’t he understand? “He’s going to try to shoot you.” I’m still screaming but I can barely hear myself. “Get out of here.”

  “He lost his gun when you shut his arm in the window, Sweetheart.” Shaun’s tone is soft and quiet. “And I can promise you he’s not going to shoot anyone.”

  My face feels like it caves in on itself. “He shot Hank.”

  Shaun’s hand on my shoulder tightens almost enough to hurt but only for a second before it relaxes. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” His hand moves up to my face, pushing the clumps of glass-littered strands away from my eyes as the sound of sirens registers.

  “I shouldn’t have gone outside.” I’m full on bawling now. I want out of this fucking car so he can hold me. “It’s my fault.”

  Shaun shakes his head at me. “None of this is your fault.” His jaw twitches. “It’s King’s fault.”

  “Shelly!”

  Shaun turns away from me, but his hand stays right against my skin. “She’s okay.”

  Liar. I’m not okay.

  Might not be for a while.

  Kerri’s face shoves in beside Shaun’s body. “Thank God.” She reaches in, bumping against Shaun until he gives her enough space that her hand can clasp mine. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  I squeeze her hand. This is what King’s done. Made us all feel responsible for his actions. For his fucked-up need to have power over other people.

  It’s his evil that hovers over us. Not mine.

  And it’s his evil that we will have to fight against so it doesn’t steal the happiness Kerri and I never saw coming.

  “Not your fault.” I take a deep breath, trying to feel the truth of what I tell her. “It’s King’s fault.”

  Kerri nods, sniffing. “Love you.”

  “Love you.” Kerri is more than my best friend. She’s the woman who showed me it’s okay to be the way I am.

  The way we are.

  A little crazy sometimes.

  Occasionally prone to outbursts.

  But we’re also loyal as hell.

  And bad fucking asses.

  20

  “YOU LIKE IT?”

  Tracker, Gypsy, and Butch peer up at the dilapidated building.

  Butch is the first one to speak. “Needs some work.”

  “I know, but it’s cheap.” My garage isn’t going to cut it anymore. We need a place for The Horsemen and their suspected new leader to target that’s far from where my girl is recuperating.

  “Only cheap to buy. Not as cheap to fix up.” Butch points to the door leading inside the two-story standing on a street in the historic part of town. “Can we go in?”

  I pull out the key and shove it in the lock, pushing the door open wide for them to go inside first. I’ve already seen the place.

  Right after I bought it at a tax auction.

  “Was this a firehouse?” Tracker spins in place at the center of the large gathering room just inside the door.

  The pole is about the o
nly identifiable part of the place. Over the years someone boarded over the garage doors and chopped the large building into three different apartments. Two upstairs and one down.

  But they didn’t do it well. Mostly just nailing up plywood and covering doorways.

  “Where does that staircase go?” Butch points to the open case running up the side of the front room. The top is boarded up in a half-assed attempt to separate the two floors.

  “Once we pull all that shit down it should go to the old living quarters. It’s apartments now but I think we could work it around to suit our needs. Maybe make a few rooms for the guys who still don’t have a place.”

  Gypsy has been silently walking through the bottom floor. He comes back to where the rest of us stand. “I like it. You got my vote.”

  Butch shrugs. “I’m game if you all are. We need a place.”

  Staying together was never a specific intent. The four of us just wanted to help the rest of the guys get on their feet. Figure out how to navigate the real world.

  But King’s actions have glued us together in a way I’m not upset about. These men were the first real family I remember having. They’re my brothers.

  And we all have something in common no one else in the world could ever understand.

  King.

  We’re the lost boys he pulled into his fucked-up world on the promise of a dream we didn’t think could ever belong to us.

  And we were right. As long as we were part of King’s world it wouldn’t.

  But we got out. Stepped into a whole new way of life where anything is possible.

  Only King wants to take it away. Steal the dream he sold us but never intended to provide.

  And we’re not giving it up.

  Tracker leans against the wall separating the front room from the bays built to home fire engines almost a century ago. “When’d you buy it?”

  “Last week.”

  He takes a long breath. “Guess we’re doing this then.” He shoves off the wall. “You want to call a meeting and tell the rest of the guys tonight?”

  I follow Tracker, Butch, and Gypsy to the door. “Tomorrow. Got plans tonight.”