HAWK: The Caged Kings MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  Almost instantly she’s struck by the smell of pot and it catches her off guard. Melissa had only smoked a couple of tokes in college but the smell was pretty difficult to forget. She blinks as her eyes become accustomed to the low-level lighting in the bar and sweeps the room quickly, taking in as many details as she can, memorizing them to write about later. Aside from the pot, it looks like your regular run-of-the-mill hangout, the only difference being that the clientele of this place definitely wears a whole lot more leather than she’s used to seeing.

  Melissa strides confidently towards the bar and hops up on a stool, trying to ignore the fact that the place has definitely gone quiet as she’s walked in. A cursory throwaway glance tells her that a good number of the men gathered around the tables are staring at her and not all of them in a friendly way. She takes in a group of guys shooting pool and can’t help but stare at one in particular as he lines up his shot. With his snug t-shirt and perfectly fitting jeans, it’s hard not to look at him. But he’s taking no notice of her.

  She leans forward a little over the bar, trying to get the attention of the grizzled bartender who’s doing his best to ignore her. He finishes up his conversation with one of the bikers at the end of the bar and they surreptitiously exchange something between them. It happens so fast Melissa almost wonders if she’s imagining it. But the cagey look that the biker gives her when he realizes she’s watching them is enough to tell her that she wasn’t making it up.

  The bartender, however, seems completely unworried and unhurried. He makes his way over towards her in his own sweet time, looking at her with a completely unimpressed expression plastered across his face.

  Melissa swallows the sudden nervousness she feels under his glare. “Can I get a beer please?”

  The bartender huffs out a sigh as if to say that she’s wasting his time and Melissa sits up a little straighter wondering if she’s somehow managed to blow her own cover. She’s aware that she probably sticks out like a sore thumb in this place, but she’d figured that she wouldn’t get made quite so quickly. She’s only said one sentence!

  “I haven’t seen you around here before.” The bartender crosses his hands over his chest, looking her over. “You with the Kings?”

  Melissa sweeps an auburn strand of hair out of her face, stalling for time. “I’m not with anyone.” She throws him a sly smile and hopes that she looks sassier than she’s feeling. The bartender keeps looking at her, nonplussed and she feels herself getting frustrated. “So can I get a beer?” She locks eyes with him, wondering why he’s making it so difficult to order a damn drink.

  She’d been trying to keep a low profile and this protracted conversation with the bartender wasn’t helping her any. Then it occurs to her – she looks young, even DeVry had said so. She was used to being ID’d in bars. Hell, she is only twenty-two. She’d let herself get carried away, wondering why the bartender was giving her a hard time when the answer couldn’t have been more obvious. “Look, I can show you my license if you need to check I’m over twenty-one.” She reaches for her bag but the bartender waves her away.

  “That’s all right, doll. This isn’t that kind of place.” He shoots her a sly grin and grabs her beer, flicking the cap off with practiced ease.

  Melissa decides against asking exactly what kind of place ‘Durangos’ is, instead opting to take a swig of her beer for some Dutch courage. Between the dealing of whatever that was that she’d witnessed and the bar’s lax over 21s policy, it wasn’t hard to see why it was a popular hangout for the Kings. Anywhere willing to look the other way to the club’s illegal dealings would inevitably do good business with the bikers.

  The bartender is still assessing her when she puts her bottle back down. Bartenders and priests, they know where all the bodies are buried. It was something one of her journalism professors had said and it came back to her now. They see everything. People confide in them, drunk or sober. She figures it might be time to test that theory.

  “You mentioned the Kings.” Melissa watches as his eyebrows rise, but he keeps looking at her with that amused expression like he knows something that she doesn’t. “So are there any of them around tonight?” She asks the question lazily, as if it’s just idle chit-chat.

  But the bartender doesn’t seem to be fooled. He smiles at her knowingly, but there’s a little concern in his eyes. “Aren’t you a little young for this?”

  Melissa prickles at his words, wondering if he would ask the same question of a guy. “Young for what? Having a beer on a Friday night?”

  The bartender shrugs as if to say that’s not what he meant, but he doesn’t expand, brushing over whatever his point had been. “There are a few Kings here tonight. Anyone in particular you’re looking for, doll?” He leans back, crossing his arms again, looking like he has all the time in the world, but Melissa sees the way his eyes flick around the bar like he’s keeping an eye out for what’s going on, any possible trouble. There’s no way this guy is just an employee. The way he’s monitoring all the goings on and his proprietorial air tells her that he’s the owner.

  “Matt, when you’re done yacking, can you get me four beers and two Jacks, straight up for the boys?” A petite woman with a bad blonde dye job appears at Melissa’s corner, making her jump as she throws a tray down in front of the bartender.

  “Now, Felicia, is that any way to talk to your boss?” He jokes with her good-naturedly and just chuckles as she scowls at him.

  Once she’s satisfied that Matt is fulfilling her demands, she turns her attention to Melissa, looking her over and clearly not liking what she sees. Melissa returns her stare, refusing to be cowed by this diminutive fake blonde. She’s a few years older than Melissa with a killer body that her tight jeans and cut off top highlight. She’s pretty, but there’s something in her eyes that makes her look sad, like she’s seen too much of the world and none of it good.

  “You done staring?” Felicia gives her a no-nonsense look and Melissa realizes that this tough girl act must work on most people, but she’s not fooled.

  Melissa just shrugs. “That depends, are you?”

  Felicia’s mouth quirks up, like she’s fighting a smile at Melissa’s feistiness. She takes a look over Melissa’s shoulder and seems about to say something, give her some kind of a warning, but Matt interrupts her.

  “Drinks are up.” He slams them down heavily on the tray and Melissa is amazed to see that he hasn’t spilled even a drop.

  Felicia spares a look at Melissa and the words come out of her mouth forced, as if she’s doing a good turn even though she doesn’t want to. “You want to watch yourself with some of these guys.” She speaks quietly, telling Melissa a secret.

  Melissa stifles her instinct to smile gratefully at the blonde, reminding herself that she’s here to play a role, not to be herself. She needs to come across as confident in these kinds of surroundings, like she’s used to hanging out in biker bars. So she laughs off Felicia’s advice. “You’re sweet, but I can take care of myself.” She takes another swig of beer as she wonders how many times she’s had to say that phrase today.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The openness that had been in Felicia’s face just a moment before disappears and the shutters come down on her eyes. “Fair warning.” She huffs the words out, throwing them down more like a challenge than a caution. She grabs the tray, sauntering over towards the men playing pool and Melissa watches her go, wondering what the hell that was all about.

  Melissa observes as Felicia hands out the drinks to the men around the pool table, paying particular attention to the supremely cute guy Melissa had seen when she walked in. They’re engaged in conversation and it gives Melissa the chance to get a good look at him. He leans lazily on his pool cue and he really seems to know how to work the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing.

  They’re familiar with each other, standing close and looking intimate. He reaches out and takes hold of her chin, looking straight into her eyes as he says something and she nods tiredly a
s if he’s telling her something that she already knows. Melissa feels a pang of jealousy as she watches them and it catches her completely off-guard, making her wonder where it’s come from. Sure, he’s cute but she hasn’t even spoken to him. She doesn’t have any grounds to be jealous of whatever his relationship is with Felicia.

  All of a sudden, as if the couple has sensed Melissa staring, they both look up at her, in unison and Melissa holds her breath as her eyes lock with his. Even from this distance she can see his eyes are so dark they’re almost black and the thought that she could fall into eyes like that skitters across her mind before she pulls herself together and forces herself to break the stare. She can feel her heartbeat speed up and it’s so loud in her own ears she can’t believe no one else can hear it.

  Matt is giving her a look, as if he has just watched the scene play out and he knows exactly what’s going on in her mind. The thought of that makes her blush.

  “I’ll take another one, thanks.” She raises her empty beer bottle towards him, wondering how she’d drunk it so quickly without even realizing. Matt nods and shrugs at her as if to say ‘whatever.’

  “This one’s on me.” The voice comes from behind Melissa, a middle-aged guy in a crumpled suit who looks like he’s hiding from his wife. After the encounter with her boss today, it was easy to recognize the type.

  “That’s all right. I’m good.” Melissa holds up her hand in thanks to the man, not wanting to offend him but also not wanting to give him the wrong idea by accepting a drink. He clearly wasn’t part of the Caged Kings. Lord only knows how he’d found his way into Durangos.

  But he doesn’t seem to be willing to take no for an answer. He slips off of his stool and sidles over to her. He’s not tall, but she’s forced to look up at him from her seated position. He leans close enough for her to smell the booze on his breath. But it’s not only coming from his breath, it oozes off of his skin, like he’s just topping up whatever he’s been consuming for the past few days.

  “Come on, beautiful. Let me buy you a drink.” He leers at her, looking at her long legs that the hot pants do nothing to hide.

  Anxious not to cause a scene, Melissa decides that sometimes the path of least resistance is the best bet. “Thanks, that’s nice of you.” She smiles at him winningly and leans back, away from him a little, hoping the hint is enough for him to give her some space. But, if anything, he gets even closer to her.

  Matt deposits the bottle in front of her and looks like he wants to say something, but he’s called over to the far end of the bar by another punter.

  “So, what’s your name, beautiful?” Drunk Suit Guy leans towards her as she tries to maneuver herself farther away from him.

  “Melissa.” She blurts out her real name before she can think of a fake one and curses herself for not having decided on one before she’d come to the bar.

  “Melissa, that’s a beautiful name.” He leers at her and Melissa tries to shuffle backwards on her stool. “How much?”

  For a second, Melissa wonders if she’s misheard him. “How much for what?” She looks at him completely confused and watches as frustration flickers across his face.

  “Well, what do you do?” He smiles greedily at her again and alarm bells start ringing in her head.

  “Sorry, but I think you’re a little drunk. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, looking in the opposite direction and hoping that he’ll just take the hint and leave her alone.

  He grabs her hand and her head snaps back towards his. “What’s the matter? My money isn’t good enough for you? I didn’t think girls like you were that picky.”

  Melissa looks at his hand clutching her wrist and it suddenly dawns on her what this is all about. He thinks she’s a hooker. She fits the pieces together – the bartender asking if she was a little young for this, Felicia’s warning about the men in the bar – it all makes sense now. She looks down at herself in her leather get-up and realizes that a hooker is probably exactly what she looks like.

  “Let go of my hand.” Her voice is low but strong despite the nerves in her stomach. “I’m not whatever it is that you think I am. I’m just having a nice quiet drink. So why don’t you let go of me and go back to your seat? You don’t want to do something you’ll just have to lie to your wife about.” She looks pointedly at his gold wedding band.

  Melissa watches as his expression changes from irritation to pure anger. The alcohol in his system has kicked in and it’s heightening all his emotions. Melissa has seen more than one bar fight break out amongst inebriated frat boys at college to know the score.

  “Don’t you dare talk about my wife!” His hand tightens its grip on her wrist and she winces involuntarily. “What’s the matter? You think you’re too good for me? My money’s as green as the next guy’s, honey. So cut the crap and let’s get out of here.” He jerks her arm, pulling her off her stool and the alarm bells in her head get even louder. He’s a big guy but soft from too many years on the road eating junk food and drinking himself into an early grave.

  She thinks about not drawing attention to herself, her intention had been to go under the radar. She thinks about what Clay has always told her in his class – not to react, not to think that she’s invincible, that the best defense was to run in the other direction. Clay almost never advocated violence, but he admitted that there were some exceptions, especially for a woman. She figures that this is one of those times. Decision made, her brain kicks into autopilot and she plants her feet solidly, silently cursing her too-big boots.

  Drunk Suit Guy gives her arm another yank, trying to pull her towards the exit and she explodes into action. Her left leg kicks out, landing on the side of his knee, making it buckle and pushing him off balance. At the same time, she delivers a knife hand strike to the side of his neck, enough to stun him but not enough to cause any permanent damage. He lands on his ass with a thud, looking up at Melissa as if she’d tricked him.

  He goes to stand and Melissa doesn’t even have time to plan her next move when she’s aware of a steadying hand on her shoulder. She turns her head and sees the hot guy from the pool table next to her, looking down at Drunk Suit Guy on the floor and shaking his head.

  “Stay down.” His voice is a growl and it does strange things to her stomach.

  Drunk Suit Guy seems to take him at his word, freezing mid-crouch.

  He turns his attention to Melissa, giving her an appraising look with eyes that are even darker than she had thought. “You all right?”

  Melissa nods slowly, not trusting her voice not to come out as a squeak. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she’d never seen a good-looking guy before and they’d never reduced her to a mute.

  “That was a pretty impressive move.” He looks at her admiringly and Melissa feels her heart flutter in her chest.

  But before she can answer, she catches movement in the corner of her eye as Drunk Suit Guy straightens up, probably figuring that now was the best time to make his move with them both distracted. Melissa tenses, but not quickly enough. He reaches out to grab her again, the anger in his eyes plain for anyone to see and she takes a step back just as Hot Pool-playing Guy inserts himself between the two of them. He lets a lightning punch fly, hitting the suit right in the nose.

  Melissa watches with a small amount of satisfaction as blood starts spurting from his nose. “You broke my nose, you fuck!” He clutches at his nose, looking at them both, outraged as if they were the ones that had started the fight.

  “I’ll break more than that if you don’t get out of here right now.” The deep voice from the specimen in front of her gives Melissa a little thrill and she watches as his broad shoulders stiffen, his hands clenching, ready for action.

  “Who are you? Her pimp?” Suit Guy spits the words out and Melissa feels herself blush at the outright accusation.

  “Who am I? I’m the guy who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t get out of here.” He doesn’t even give Suit G
uy a chance to respond before he grabs him by the lapels of his sad suit and half hustles, half drags him towards the exit, virtually throwing him out of the doors.

  Melissa looks around and the other men in the bar barely even seem to have registered what has just gone down. They must be pretty accustomed to seeing fights, she reasons to herself. The doors swing open again and Hot Guy walks through, looking grim and holding a wallet.

  “How much he owe you, Matt?” He starts pulling out bills before the bartender answers.

  “Twenty even, Hawk.” Matt doesn’t even miss a beat, taking the money and pocketing it before the other man disappears out of the door again, returning a few seconds later without the wallet.

  He walks right up to Melissa and motions towards her beer that must have been knocked over at some point in the struggle. “Can I get you another?” Melissa still hasn’t quite recovered the power of speech and he seems to take her silence as assent, motioning towards Matt for two more beers.