I snort. “You can still pee in the woods if that’s your thing.” I shake my head, cross my arms beneath my breasts, and look at Hawk with a gentle smile as I remember how different we are. “Oh, right. You never went to college. Well, universities have endowments, and their facilities have to be able to accommodate students.”
Hawk glances up at me, eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I never went to college?” he says sharply. “And you were giving me shit earlier about being prejudicial?”
I blink as the color rushes to my face. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to imply that . . . I mean, I just assumed you didn’t . . . just thought that maybe if you’d been to college, you might’ve chosen a different career path. That’s all I meant. I mean, I know you’re smart, Hawk.” I force a smile as I feel the tension rising in the air. “After all, you did that math about probabilities of me getting pregnant, right?”
Hawk finally smiles. Then he shakes his head and relaxes. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just on edge, you know? This waiting is getting to me.”
“I know,” I say softly, going over to Hawk as he sits up straight on a stool, spreading his long legs so I can get close. “It’s getting to me too. I mean, the past week alone with you has been wonderful. But . . .”
“But there’s unfinished business hanging over us like a fucking shadow,” Hawk mutters as he pulls me close but looks away. “Carl is doing this on purpose. Letting me stew. I know he’s coming, and he knows he’s coming. But he’s trying to fuck with my mind by waiting this long.”
I nod and sigh. “Or maybe you fucked with his mind by calling his bluff,” I say, a glimmer of hope flickering in me—hope that I know is too far-fetched to be real. “There’s nothing in the news. The cops haven’t called to tell you to come in for questioning.” I glance at Hawk’s phone. “And your phone’s been on, so the cops could track you here with GPS from the phone company pretty easily. It means Carl hasn’t set the cops after you for killing his crew member. You were right. He was bluffing just to put more pressure on you to join the Vipers or at least give them useful insider information about the Hounds.”
Hawk stays quiet, and I run my fingers through his thick hair as that nagging sense of uncertainty rises up again in me. I’m scared out of my mind at some level. But I also have an irrational faith in this man, in his ability to protect me, in his desire to keep me safe, to keep me forever. But I still don’t understand what he thinks he can do as one man against an army of gun-toting bikers.
“OK,” I say finally, deciding that it’s time to talk about it, that after a week alone with each other, there’s no doubt that what we felt at the beginning was real, more real than anything in our lives. But that doesn’t mean we’re being realistic about everything. It’s one thing to believe fate brought us together. It’s another thing to believe that fate will somehow save us from an invading army!
“OK what?” Hawk asks, eyebrows raised like he knows what I’m gonna ask.
“You know what,” I say. “What’s the plan when Carl and the Vipers actually do show up?”
“You don’t trust me to protect you?” he says in a low monotone, the confidence oozing out of him in a way that both relaxes and scares me. It’s a dark sort of confidence, the confidence of a man who’s faced death a hundred times and is still breathing, still the one standing, still the one with the fucking ax in his hand.
“How can you even ask me that?” I say, my own anger rising quick at his surly silence. “I’m here, alone in the fucking woods with you, waiting for a gang of killers to come riding up on motorcycles, guns blazing! And I’ve trusted you with my life. You saved me once, and I somehow believe you’ll save me again. Save both of us.”
“OK, so you trust me,” he says again in that monotone. “Thank you. End of conversation.”
I almost explode in frustration, and I pull on his hair without meaning to do it. He shouts in pain and grabs my wrists, and when I see the anger blaze in those dark eyes, I gasp as real fear whips through me.
It’s only then that I sense that he’s letting something build in him, an energy that he needs for whatever he thinks is going to happen when Carl and the Vipers get here. That’s why he doesn’t want to talk about it. He needs to let it simmer in the background, and maybe I need to let him be.
I blink and nod like I get it, like I’m starting to understand the man he is, starting to accept the man he is. Wild sex and crazy love is one thing, but there are other things that take time. You can get a sense of a person in an instant, from one meaningful look in his eyes. But there are also parts of each other that will take years of togetherness to come out in the open.
And now suddenly I’m happy, almost joyful! I just cup his big face in my hands and kiss his lips until he smiles and kisses me back.
“I get it,” I whisper, fighting back tears. “I get who you are, Hawk. I get it and I accept it. I understand that you want to break away from the violent life you chose. But I also understand that there’s a darkness in you that’s never going to go away. That darkness saved my life, and in some weird way I love it. I fucking love it.” I swallow hard and nod as I look into his eyes. “And I love you, Hawk. I—”
He kisses me before I say another word, and I throw my arms around him and press myself as hard against him as I can without suffocating both of us. In some weird way it feels like this one week of solitude, of the two of us enjoying magical moments of privacy and togetherness even though a dark cloud hung over us was a test, preparation, a warning that our lives aren’t always gonna be sunshine. There’ll be dark clouds too, but that’s OK. That’s part of nature, isn’t it? After all, dark clouds bring the rain, don’t they?
A shadow passes over the room as the sun goes behind some clouds. It rained earlier today, and so I’m not surprised. But then I frown and cock my head.
“Is that thunder?” I ask, feeling the dread rise up in me as Hawk tenses up.
“No,” he says stoically, pushing me away and standing up. He touches his tomahawk and the thunder rises in pitch until there’s no mistaking what it is.
And it ain’t the sound of Mother Nature.
It’s the sound of gasoline and horsepower, gunmetal and chains.
It’s the sound of trust, I think as I watch my man, my protector, my tattooed savior rise to full height and prepare for whatever he thinks will end the story of his past and start the story of our future, of our forever, our happily ever after.
10
HAWK
“And they lived happily ever after,” says Carl in his low drawl, his voice oozing from him like a snake moving through black oil. “How fucking sweet.” His head is freshly shaved, that long scar still visible from an old surgery where they pulled a bullet out of his goddamn brain. No wonder the man is a legend even amongst the Hounds. Fucker took a bullet to the head and is still smiling, still riding, still fucking, still fighting.
“It’s really fucking sweet. You should try it sometime. Marry one of your crack-whores and settle down,” I say calmly, grinning in a way that I know will get to Carl, show him I’m not scared, make him wonder what he’s missed, if this is a trap.
Of course, it is a trap. A trap but also a gamble. A gamble that could cost me everything.
Probably a bad fucking gamble, I think as I hold eye contact with Carl and steel my jaw. Carl isn’t necessarily the most honorable fucker in the game. After all, he double-crossed those dealers in the park, didn’t he? I have no reason to believe he won’t double-cross me if I end up the loser in my proposal.
So then you better not fucking lose, Hawk, I think as I touch my tomahawk and feel the wind in the trees around us. Helen is indoors, and the doors are locked and bolted. There is a basement, and I told her to lock herself down in there with her phone and to call for help in exactly five minutes, no matter what she hears outside. But I know she’s upstairs, standing behind the blinds, watching.
I knew Carl wasn’t gonna come in here planning to just kill us. He doesn’t want
me dead. Not yet, at least. He tossed out the joining-the-Vipers offer just in case I took it. But he probably didn’t expect me to even consider it. He knows I could never switch sides like that—it’s just not in my blood to betray my brothers.
So the reason he’s here is because he still thinks he can get to me. And I know why. It’s because he saw something in the way Helen and I stood together under the moonlight that night. He knew in that moment that she was my weakness, that he could use her to get to me. Kidnapping and torturing her wouldn’t do fuck except get me to pull out every stop to kill Carl and every last Viper, no matter how many of my Hound brothers fell in the dust. Besides, although Carl might be a capable of that kind of violence against a woman, I know for a fact that most of the other Vipers aren’t.
Most of these guys came from the same place as the Hounds, I think as I quickly scan the bearded, weathered, scarred faces of the Vipers. Most of us could have joined either gang when we were hot-headed teenagers. Yeah, shit got darker and uglier over the years as the rift widened between our crews. But most of the guys aren’t fucking sadists or psychopaths. They’re murderers, yeah. They’re drug-dealers, sure. They’ve lied, cheated, and stolen, OK. But if Carl gives an order right now to go find Helen and put a knife to her throat so I cough up a list of the Hounds hideouts and stashes, no Viper is gonna seriously follow through. Yeah, they might hold the knife to her throat, but no man here would follow up on the threat. No man except Carl, and as the leader he’s too smart to do something that would cause mutiny amongst his men, make some of them outright turn on him, perhaps even physically stop him.
I exhale as I realize that I was right about that hunch. Carl glances up at the building windows, but makes no move to send his men in. He knows that I wanted him to come up here. He also knows that I haven’t called in my guys, haven’t told the Hounds shit about any of this, that I want to handle it privately.
And so he believes I’m going to negotiate something. Give him something in exchange for a guarantee of safety, offer him something big enough for him to release me from a blood debt.
And I am.
I’m gonna offer him everything.
“Every last hideout, stash-box, cubby-hole, safehouse of the Hounds. Every Cayman Islands bank account number. Names of every cop on our payroll. I’ve got so much on the Hounds that you can slowly take over our entire territory without starting an outright war, by slowly draining the Hounds, strategically stealing from us until it’s too late to stop the Vipers from spreading. You’re smart enough to use that kinda information to take over without getting a bunch of your guys shot down and hacked to death.”
I hold my phone up, and then I toss it down at Carl’s feet. He frowns and then looks up at me.
“Helen’s got the password,” I say in a low rasping whisper. I hold my right hand, fingers spread wide as I break out into a grin, the adrenaline pouring into my bloodstream. “And you can have my thumb-print to unlock the phone. You’ll just have to come and get it.”
I’ve still got my hands held in plain sight, fingers spread. I don’t have my jacket on, and every Viper can see that I’ve only got my tomahawk hanging from my belt. Of course, I’m a fucking legend too. Every Viper knows I don’t do guns or knives or fucking baseball bats. I’m called Hawk for a reason, and I’ve been alive for a long fucking time too, just like their legendary leader. One of our legends ends today, and I’ve put my trust in fate that it ain’t gonna be mine. I’ve found my forever, and I’m taking her home with me.
Carl slowly draws his gun, blinking and furrowing his brow. I can see his mind swirling behind those cold gray eyes. If it were just the two of us, I’d already be dead, my thumb cut off, Helen being tortured to give up the password.
“But it’s not just the two of us,” I whisper as Carl steps close to me and a murmur rises up amongst the rest of the Vipers. They’re tensed up, shifting on their feet, some of them fingering their own weapons as they glance at each other and then at Carl. This is where I hope I was right about the rest of the Vipers and about Carl himself. That double-cross deal in the park was out of the ordinary, and I know it must have pissed off some of the Vipers. We’re all bastards, but we have a code. And one part of that code is you don’t gun down a man who doesn’t have a gun on you.
“If I fall, then Helen will give up the password in exchange for her safety,” I say loudly, glancing around at the rest of the Vipers, looking into each man’s eyes so they know they’re witnesses to this deal, so they know that if Carl hurts one hair on Helen’s fucking head, they’re all morally responsible. That’s my insurance that even if the gods desert me and I die on the soft ground, my woman and babies will live on, my blood will live on, my fucking legend will live on. “Her complete safety. Forever. For. Ever!”
Carl’s jaw clenches as he narrows his eyes and stares at me with a hatred that tells me I’m right. “You’re smarter than you fucking look, Hawk,” he says with an ugly grin. He’s still got the gun pointed at my head, but I know he’s not going to pull the trigger. He’s in front of his men, and he’s gonna have to live by the code, answer my challenge, stand against me man-to-man, face-to-face, blade-to-blade. That’s what a leader has to do to keep the respect of his men, to let them know he really is invincible, that he really is the strongest, the fastest, that he really is the legend they say he is.
“Yeah, you’re smarter than you look, Hawk,” he says, finally lowering his gun and then tossing it away as his men start to hoot and cheer, clap and call out his name. He grins wide, runs his hand over his smooth, scarred head, and then pulls out his hunting knife that’s longer than my fucking cock and has taken as many lives as my tomahawk has claimed.
My ‘hawk is in my hand before I even take another breath, and then everything goes black because I’m in that zone where it’s just me and my ax, where there’s just darkness and blood . . .
Darkness . . .
Blood . . .
And the light of my future, my forever, my fucking woman.
11
HELEN
I stare in disbelief at the scene unfolding outside. Then I look at the folded envelope that Hawk gave to me without any explanation about what was in it. All he said was not to open it unless I had to.
“How will I know if I have to open it?” I’d said in panic.
“You’ll figure it out,” Hawk had replied. “See you soon, honey.”
See you soon, honey.
Those were the last words he said to me before stepping outside to face a bunch of armed hoodlums in leather and chains?! And I trust this man?
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but the moment Carl tosses his gun away and pulls out a devilishly long knife I know that as awful as it looks, this is exactly what Hawk wanted to have happen.
I stare in horror as the Vipers form a close circle around the two men, who are slashing at each other as they face off. Neither has struck blood, though clearly the crowd is calling for it. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away. There’s fear running through my veins like ice-water, but there’s also a fucked-up excitement that makes me sick when I feel it making my heart pound.
Somehow I know that this fight is going to end in death. And I know it’s not going to be Hawk bleeding out before my eyes. That’s not how this story ends.
“This is a love story, not a fucking tragedy,” I mutter as I watch Carl lunge at Hawk but miss. “Come on, Hawk. Finish it. Finish him!”
Am I seriously cheering for someone’s death? I wonder as that chill of sickening realization goes through me. I suddenly realize I’m smiling, and now I’m sure I’ve snapped, that the craziness of the past week has done something awful to me!
But I feel calm, even exhilarated, like I’m awakening to myself in the most intimate, private way. Maybe there’s a darkness in me too, I think as I gasp at the way Hawk is moving with the grace of someone in complete control of his body and his weapon, someone whose body is a weapon, maybe!
I stare
in muted silence as Hawk suddenly lowers his ax like he’s giving up. It seems to throw Carl off for a moment, and in a blur of movement Hawk swipes up with his ax, opening up a long slit on the left side of Carl’s body!
Gasps go up as Carl staggers back, the blood taking a moment to flow before his shirt is soaked and he’s choking for air. Hawk stands still as Carl takes another staggering step back like he doesn’t understand how his body just sorta opened up like that, how his life is leaking out in gobs of dark red blood that flows like a lazy river.
I’m looking back at Hawk, at my man, my man who just—
But then I frown when the crowd roars. It sounds like disapproval, not cheers, and I scream when I see that Carl has gone down to his knees and picked up the gun he tossed away earlier!
“No!” I scream, about to just jump through the window to stop it. But I couldn’t get there in time, and I just stare helplessly as Carl cocks his gun and—
--and then falls backward, the gun firing up in the air, his skull slit wide open down the center, an old Navajo tomahawk splitting Carl’s cranium like a piece of wood.
And Hawk stands there and waits for Carl to die, almost respectfully, it occurs to me. Then Hawk nods at the speechless crowd of bikers, and then walks back to my waiting arms, walks back to his future, walks back to his forever.
Because that’s the end of this story, and this curvy botanist was right:
It’s not a tragedy.
It’s a fucking love story.
EPILOGUE 1
ONE YEAR LATER
HAWK
“You know, that tomahawk would come in handy right now,” Helen says to me as she sits back on her haunches in the dirt of our backyard garden, big floppy hat covering her face, sundress barely able to cover her luscious, post-pregnancy curves that make me want to fuck her so hard she delivers ten more babies the very next day. (Told you I wasn’t a scientist.)
Curvy for Him: The Botanist and the Biker (Curvy for Him Series Book 8) Page 7