Love?
Hawk blinks at my response, pausing respectfully for just a moment before rattling off another set of questions about my family, anyone who lives with me, who might be in danger, who needs to be protected.
“Any pets at home those bastards could use as hostages? Dogs? Cats? Birds?” he’s saying as my head hums, my body buzzes, my heart hops with that feeling that I swear is love even though that’s logically impossible. Or maybe it isn’t. After all, science has stayed far away from even trying to define the word love. They leave that to the artists and poets. Or maybe to the botanists and bikers.
“Birds?!” I say with a giggle. “Do you really think I would keep a bird in a cage as a pet?”
Hawk shrugs, his long, lean face and big nose making him look a bit like a bird of prey, always on the hunt. There’s a hint of mischief in those black eyes though, and I giggle again when I see that even though this is serious as hell, he can’t resist teasing me.
“Nah, I figure you just let them fly around the house pooping everywhere,” he says with a sideways grin. We both laugh, and then Hawk exhales as the gravity of the situation descends on us again. “Listen,” he says softly, touching my hair and then cupping my face in his hands. “You’re always gonna be safe with me, all right? But there’s a lot going on here, a lot of players involved.” He blinks and looks past me, and when he focuses on my face again his expression has changed, hardened, like he really did see that moment of doubt that flashed through me not so long ago. “If you want to walk away from this . . . there’s still time,” he says softly, gritting his teeth like he’s forcing himself to say the words, fighting his own instincts to give me an option that he doesn’t want me to choose, to give me a choice to turn my back on this before it’s too late.
It’s already too late, I think as I feel his seed inside me, feel his warmth envelop me, feel his love surround me. It’s already too late to turn away from this.
But that doesn’t even matter, because I’m not turning away from this.
“I’ve got no one,” I say softly. “There’s no one but me.” I swallow hard as I choke back a flood of emotion, feeling years of loneliness bubble up in the most unexpected way. I’ve never thought of myself as a lonely person, but the desperation with which I’m clinging to Hawk makes me wonder if I know myself at all!
Hawk shakes his head and smiles, and I see those dark eyes light up with something that feels like . . . relief? It’s only then that I realize this hard, dark man was actually scared for a moment, scared that maybe I woulda walked away from this, gone to the police like a sensible, normal human being would do instead of stumbling deeper into chaos and uncertainty.
“You’ve got me,” he says, kissing me on the forehead, sending that warmth through my shaking body, reminding me that my life might be heading for chaos, but perhaps not uncertainty. Because this feels solid. This feels like forever.
And then suddenly I’m scared, and before I know it images of Hawk fighting some battle on the streets flood me with a fear that makes me want to hold on to him and never let go. I imagine myself pregnant with his babies as he gets gunned down by the Vipers, and I wonder if I’m seriously losing my shit, if I’m maybe still in shock, if perhaps—
Suddenly a bloodcurdling noise interrupts my thoughts, and I gasp and look around, thinking, Now what?!
“My phone,” Hawk says, reaching down to his jacket that’s draped on the asphalt. He pulls it out of a side pocket and glances at the screen.
“Um, really?” I say. “That’s your ringtone? What is it? A cat being tortured?”
“I don’t hurt animals. Only humans,” Hawk says with a wink. Then he frowns at the screen. “What the fuck?”
His frown deepens as he answers, and I can see that he’s surprised by whoever’s calling. A weird flash of jealousy whips through me when Hawk abruptly stands, pulls up his pants, and walks away from me, talking low and quick, like he doesn’t want me to hear the conversation. I stare at the rippling muscles on his tattooed back. His broad, V-shaped physique almost makes him look like he’s got wings, like he embodies the spirit of a hawk in some way. I know he told me that he got the nickname because he carries a tomahawk-style hatchet like some maniac. But I can’t help but think there’s something deeper to his name, to all our names, perhaps.
I think back to what Hawk said about Helen of Troy, the woman who was the cause of one of the greatest, bloodiest wars in all of myth. Of course, Helen wasn’t really the cause of the war. That’s like saying it’s a woman’s fault for being raped because she’s too beautiful! Helen of Troy was kidnapped for her beauty, even though some interpretations of the myth portray it as a twisted love story, a tale of star-crossed lovers who decide that they’ll pay any price to be with each other.
I look down at myself, at my naked curves exposed in the sun, my big breasts still sticky with Hawk’s saliva, my belly glistening with the pre-cum from when he dragged his oozing cock all over me like an animal. I can see dark red streaks on my hips and sides from how he dug his fingers into my flesh as he poured his seed into me, claimed me as his, pulled me into this twisted love story.
Hawk is still barking out something into the phone, his face red with what looks like anger mixed with shock. Again I wonder if it’s some biker-chick of his, maybe the mother of a bunch of his kids asking him to pick up some milk on the way home. I almost laugh at the thought, but I feel another set of doubts roll in as I study Hawk’s well-lined face. I know so little about him, I realize. What if he really does have—
But then he’s off the phone, those dark eyes focused on me again. He’s pulling at his beard like he’s worked up, like he’s turned around, like he’s not sure what to think, what to even do perhaps. Like he needs my help.
“That was . . .” he starts to say, glancing at his silent phone like he’s double-checking to make sure he’s not imagining things. “It was . . . Carl. That was fucking Carl!”
I frown up at Hawk, reaching for my clothes and pulling my black top on without bothering to look for my bra. My panties are useless, torn apart by Hawk’s teeth, and I pull my tights on over my naked ass and clamber to my feet.
“He says he stalled the cops and got all three bodies out of there before they got to the scene,” Hawk is saying, rubbing his fingers through his hair as he paces. “The cops decided it was nothing, he said.” He swallows hard and shakes his head. “Says even my bike is where I left it. Not even a fucking parking ticket.”
My frown is so deep I can feel new lines forming on my face. “Why?” I say. “What does he want?”
“Me,” says Hawk, stopping in his tracks and turning to me. “He wants me.”
6
HAWK
“Me,” I say again, blinking away the last bits of shock from hearing Carl’s low, deep voice on the phone. I always knew Carl was a crafty, conniving motherfucker, more than just a street-thug. Cold like a snake, but smart like a goddamn wolf. I underestimated him. He doesn’t want a war with the Hounds. Not yet, at least. Not until he knows he has an advantage that will guarantee he wins the war.
And I’m that fucking advantage.
“He wants me to join the Vipers,” I say in a whisper, grinning and shaking my head at how Carl seized the opportunity to flip this thing on its head, to jam me in a fucking corner, to trap me like an animal. “He says it’s the only way I can pay back the blood-debt for killing one of his crew. The other option is war with the Hounds, and he knows as well as I do that a war will be bloody, no matter who wins. A lot of us will die in the fucking streets if there’s a war. And the twist is that Carl says he can fix it so that if there’s a war, I won’t be able to stand with my brothers. He got rid of the bodies of the drug-dealers he killed. But he’s got the guy I killed on ice. And with his connections, he can make it so I’m right smack in the middle of a murder investigation anytime he wants. If I say no, I gotta disappear while my brothers are dying in the fucking streets because of something I did! Fuck! He’
s got a fucking gun to my head, Helen! What the fuck do I do?”
“Join him,” Helen says, the reply coming so fast I raise my eyebrows. I can see the intelligence blazing behind those brown eyes of hers, and somehow I know that her sharp mind has processed all the options with lighting speed and she’s blurting out the answer. The correct answer, as fucked up as it sounds, as angry as it makes me. “That’ll give us time to figure out what to do next.” She blinks, her eyes darting to the left like she’s thinking. “You said Carl got rid of the guys he killed, right? Which means I’m not in danger any more for being a witness. No bodies, no crime, right?”
I nod slowly, my heart filling with a creeping sense of relief that’s slowly driving away the dread that took root, the sickening feeling of being trapped. She’s so fucking smart, I think as I blink and nod again. And she’s on my side. She’s mine!
I almost break into a smile even though my world just got way more fucked up than I ever imagined. Somehow I know we’re gonna find our way through this together. We’re a team, and she’s got some fuckin’ smarts too. Carl isn’t expecting that. He wants me on his side because I know everything about the Hounds—hideouts, safehouses, weapons stashes, where we keep drugs and money, even where every Hound lives and works. Carl also knows I’m by far the most deadly motherfucker on the streets when it comes down to a life-and-death battle, and he doesn’t want to face me on a battlefield. Yeah, he’d be watching for me to join him and then stab him in the fucking back when he isn’t looking. But he also knows that isn’t my style. It’s against the code. Every man I’ve ever killed has had a chance to fight back, a chance to arm himself and face me like a fucking man. I don’t sneak up on people. I don’t stab them in the back. If I pledge my loyalty, it means I’m giving my word. My word fucking means something. It’s all I got. My word and my honor.
And then I realize that I’m still underestimating Carl by taking his word at face value. No fucking way he expects me to simply betray my crew just to save my own ass from some police investigation that may or may not result in a conviction. No way he could ever trust me even if I agreed to join his crew. No way unless he thought he had some real leverage, a pressure point he could squeeze, a hold on me that runs deep, down to the fucking core of the man I am:
I close my eyes and almost fall to my knees as I think back to that wickedly triumphant smile on Carl’s face when he saw me carry Helen away from the scene in the park. He knows she’s mine, I think as I close my eyes and realize I suddenly have a weakness, a pressure-point that can be squeezed, a vulnerability that I’ve never had before.
“No,” I say in a whisper, gritting my teeth and shaking my head as the twin heads of rage and fear rip through me, making my fucking blood heat up. Now I want to kill Carl. There’s no other way to end this. Carl needs to die, and it’s as fucking simple as that. All this strategizing and conniving is making my fucking head hurt. I stroke my tomahawk and shake my head again. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: You’re going to that place your college has up north. Once I make you safe, I’m gonna head back to the Hounds and work this out. Then I’ll come back for you.”
Helen raises her eyebrows and puts her hands on her hips. “OK. And what are you gonna tell your crew?”
I shrug. “Fucking everything.”
“And then what happens?” she demands.
I think for a moment. “Then we go to war. There’s no other way. I’m not joining the fucking Vipers, Helen! That’s a level of betrayal that gets a hit put out on me by the Hounds. And the Hounds hit hard. We don’t miss.” I shrug again. “Besides, I could never seriously pledge myself to our fucking rivals. That goes against everything in me. Fuck, even Carl knows that, I bet. This is probably just him messing with my head, maybe trying to get the Hounds to start the war. And who started the war makes a difference in case it gets so bloody the cops get involved, maybe even other crews from out of town. It’s complicated, babe.”
“It’s stupid. That’s what it is,” she says firmly, crossing her arms beneath her magnificent breasts. “Stupid men with axes and guns and big balls and tiny brains.”
I can’t help but snort with laughter. “That’s fucking prejudicial, you know.” Then I shrug and put my hands on my hips. “Though I do have pretty big fucking balls. Thanks for noticing.”
Helen rolls her eyes, trying to hide a smile. “I thought we were having a serious discussion.”
“Yeah, until you resorted to name-calling,” I retort, taking a step toward her as I feel my cock harden in my jeans. This isn’t the fucking time, but clearly my big balls don’t give a shit about the real world. They want to empty inside her again.
For a moment I fantasize about just taking my woman and running. Getting my bike, saddling up with my girl, and leaving behind this fuckfest of a life. I have some money stashed away, and we can head out West, maybe start a new life, a new family, a new future. But the fantasy is just that: A fantasy. I can’t do that. I can’t turn my back on my crew, on the mess created by my big fucking balls, a decision made by my cock.
But the same instincts that got me into this mess are rising up again as I look at Helen, somehow feel my seed growing inside her even though it doesn’t take a fucking scientist to know that it’s way too early to be sure about something like that. But I’m sure of it, and somehow I know she is too, even though neither of us can say it out loud. And that makes this even more complicated, doesn’t it? Fuck, what if in a few months she’s pregnant and showing? Talk about fucking leverage! I already know in a heartbeat that if my woman and kids were threatened, I’d do anything to make them safe. Fucking anything!
My temples throb as I rub my eyes and shake my head. “All right,” I mutter, trying to think fast, realizing I’ve got to say what I need to say to get my girl safe for now while I take care of Carl. I can tell she’s not buying this idea of two rival crews fighting it out in the streets like this is the wild west. So fuck it. I’ll tell her what she wants to hear. “All right,” I say again, forcing a smile. “I’ll go talk to Carl. Figure out what I can offer to prevent a war. I’m not joining the Vipers. But maybe I give him something to pay off the blood debt. Maybe I do a hit for him. Maybe I ask the Hounds to give the Vipers some territory as a peace offering, even though I’ll get my ass kicked for that. I’ll figure something out, all right? But you’re going up north, Helen. You’re staying the fuck out of the way.”
Helen looks at me in dead silence. I can see she’s thinking hard, trying to figure out if I’m lying or not. Truth is, I don’t know if I’m lying. All I know is that I gotta get Helen safe. She’ll probably be safe up north in this cabin or whatever. But the thought of leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with me either. What if Carl figures out her university has this land up north? She’ll be more vulnerable than ever! Fuck, no! I need to be by her side. Now and forever.
Helen shakes her head like she can read my thoughts, see my conflict, maybe see a way through it. “I’ll only be safe by your side, and you know that,” she says softly, and in that moment I almost break, almost roar in anguish as my need to just fucking be with her is so overwhelming that I just want to destroy everything that’s standing in my way. Fuck Carl. Fuck the Vipers. Hell, fuck the Hounds too! We’re a bunch of dark-hearted, drug-dealing, murdering bastards too! Is that the life I want to bring this sweet, smart, beautiful woman into? Is that an environment I want to raise our children in? Fuck, no! I’m a criminal and a killer, but I somehow held on to some moral principles, stayed true to the code. I never killed the innocent. I never sold killer drugs to kids or people that were vulnerable. I still have a chance to be a role model, to be a good man, to be a husband, a fucking father!
“I love you,” she whispers, the words coming in so out of the blue that I almost black out. She just said what I feel, and I slowly shake my head, my lips moving like I’m a fish flopping around on the grass.
“I love you too, Helen,” I mutter, still shaking my head as I step up to my girl and pull
her into me. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not for one fucking second. Not ever. Not fucking ever!”
She sighs as she snuggles into my broad, hard body. She feels so fucking soft and perfect in my arms, and I can’t help but reach behind her and cup her glorious ass as my cock pushes against her front.
“Not ever?” she says with a giggle, making no move to push my hand away from her ass. “Um, that might be a little awkward when college starts and I’m teaching classes again, don’t ya think?”
“I’ll stand outside the window,” I say with a grunt.
She snorts. “Great. A tattooed biker with a tomahawk staring at me with binoculars through the window. I’m sure no one will notice.”
“Yeah, that might be a bit conspicuous,” I say, raising an eyebrow and then shrugging. “Might be better if I just sit at the back of the classroom.”
“That’s a much better idea,” she says with deadpan seriousness.
We both laugh with a lightness that’s almost fucking insane given the situation. But at the same time I understand it. I think we both understand it. We’re together, and that’s that. Everything else will have to be worked out around that simple fact.
“Speaking of good ideas,” I say finally. “That cabin up north is still a good idea. But I’m going up there with you.” I pause for a moment as a fucked-up plan suddenly takes form in my spinning head. “And so are the Vipers.”
She pulls back and looks up at me, scrunching her face and widening her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
I smile as I realize this is the best fucking way to end this. End this my way. “We’re gonna throw a party in the woods, babe. And bikers love a party.”
Helen holds that look of confusion for a long moment, and then she snorts as if she understands what I mean. “You want to draw the Vipers up into the woods and then fight it out in the middle of nowhere? Is that your version of a good idea?”
Curvy for Him: The Botanist and the Biker (Curvy for Him Series Book 8) Page 5