Hawk_Devil's Fury Book 3

by Torrie Robles

  She squeezes her eyes closed, biting her bottom lip she chest heaves with a sob. Her shoulders shake as she cries. Small whales of pain escape her throat. I pull her towards me, wrapping both arms around her and kiss the top of her head as she cries away her pain. Seven years of built-up strength crumble with one question. It makes me wonder just how fragile she really is. This woman, living life by choices she didn’t have. Loving a child not brought to this earth out of love, but out of pure evil. He’s a symbol of innocence tainted by the devil’s hand.

  As she continues to cry, I hold her. Her weeps turn to whimpers that turn to soft even breaths. This woman will continue to be safe in my arms. No harm will ever come to her or her son, again.

  I bet my fucking life on it.

  Hawk

  “Yo,” Dyke answers with the thump of music in the background.

  “I need you to do some recon,” I tell him as I pull the slider to Tessa’s back patio open enough so I can fit my body through and step out into the night air.

  “What’s this about?” he grunts, and I can hear his heavy boots walking away from the music, more than likely towards his or Cut’s office. “Is this about your mom and sisters?”

  I run my hand over my head. “Fuck me, man. I haven’t even gotten to that yet.”

  “Hawk’s on the phone,” I hear him tell someone else. “Hawk, I’m putting you on speaker. Cut, Brass and Lick are here.” I inwardly groan because this is not the conversation I want to have over speakerphone.

  “What’s up, brother?” Cut asks.

  I take a deep breath because I know this is a subject that Cut doesn’t like to address. We all but avoid the reasoning as to why Sienna was taken and killed. The club figured that Cut suffered enough losing his sister and father that he didn’t need to get any grief about allowing them to go to the mall without club protection. We know he was trying to be a brother, and that was the last time he’s put family before the club. Just ask Lily.

  “I need information about the evening of the attack.”

  “Fuck, Hawk. What the hell for?” Dyke asks. “You really want to dredge all that shit up now? With everything that has happened with Louie Jr. and his daughter and you want to bring that shit back up?”

  “Yeah, fuck that shit,” Lick spits. “I’m not wanting to bring another turf war when things are finally settling down in the MC. We’re looking to the future, kid, and not the fucking past.”

  I bite my tongue because there are so many things that I want to say to that fucker, but it’s not going to get me anywhere.

  “What’s all this about?” Cut asks.

  “It’s about Tessa.”

  “Tessa Reese? What the fuck is going on out there, Hawk?” Brass asks.

  “Jesus, fucking Christ. For twenty-eight years I’ve fallen in line for this MC. I’ve done my diligence, I’ve paid my fucking dues. I dance around with a fucking smile on my face while people have died—”

  “That shit’s in the past, now,” Lick cuts me off. “You know we don’t run like that anymore. You’re asking for us to open a can of fucking worms the size of world war three if you dredge up that attack. The Diablos are on the verge of handing Louie Sr. over. Once that’s done, the wrongs will have been righted. Let Sienna rest in peace, man.”

  “It’s not about fucking Sienna!” I roar, my chest heaving. I glance around when I see surrounding patio lights flicker on. Just fucking great. I don’t want to start any issues with Tessa’s neighbors.

  “Hawk?” It’s Dyke, and by the sound of his voice, I know that he’s no longer on speakerphone. “Tell me, brother.”

  “Tessa wasn’t just beat up, man. It’s far worse than what any of us knew. Those witnesses, they didn’t know shit. She was raped. Gang raped by the Diablos, and I need to know every single motherfucker who participated. I need the names of every man who touched her, and I need it now,” I growl.

  Silence filters over the phone until I hear a grunt. “You’ll get the info that you’re after.”

  Tessa

  Hawk didn’t mention anything more about my revelation last night. I’m not sure when he left, but he left a note on my nightstand, telling me that he’d be seeing me.

  “You all right, baby girl?” Martha asks with motherly concern. “You’re looking a little pale, and your eyes aren’t as bright as they normally are.”

  “Cleaning the toilets is never a pleasant experience,” I say as I haul my mop bucket up on my cart.

  “No, sugar. It’s something more,” she says with a scrutinizing gaze.

  I blow the hair that’s fallen from my braid out of my face. “Well, I told Hawk about my past.”

  Her eyes widen in shock. “Everything?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “And?” Her eyebrows raise, waiting for my answer.

  “Nothing really. Sam woke up after I told him about my attack, and Hawk insisted that he helped him get settled while I got myself put back together.” She purses her lips together in approval.

  “It’s amazing, baby girl. All these years and you’ve never let a single man penetrate your walls, and bam, Hawk, with his swagger and those piercing eyes comes into town, and you’re opening up like Niagara Falls.”

  I shake my head because she’s not wrong. “You’re reading too much into it. Hawk is someone from home. The link to my past–”

  “A past that haunts you to this day. Wouldn’t he be the last one you’d want to know what happened to you? Croy doesn’t even know, and he’s practically raising your son with you.”

  “He is not, Martha. I’m handling Sam on my own.”

  “And who did you call when you had to teach Sam to stand while peeing?”

  “Look–”

  I’m cut off by the sound of my phone. The ring tells me it’s Sam’s school. That’s the only phone call I take while I’m at work.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss. Reese. There’s been an incident, and I need you down at the school.”

  My heart drops. “Is Sam okay?” Tears prick at my eyes.

  “Yes, it’s more disciplinary.”

  I look up at Martha who’s still standing there watching the exchange. “Okay, I’ll head down shortly.”

  “He’s going to need to stay home for the rest of the day, and since it’s Thursday, we’re suggesting you keeping him with you tomorrow as well. Hopefully, the weekend will clear the air.”

  “Well, I don’t even know what’s going on, so how can I agree to any of that?” I take a breath. “I’m on my way.” I slide my phone in my pocket. “I gotta go.” I rush past Martha, leaving my cart in the hallway and make my way to the break room to grab my purse.

  As soon as I turn the corner to head towards the entrance, I hit a wall of thick muscle. Hands grasp my arms, and I’m hit with the familiar scent that still lingered on my pillow this morning. Opening my eyes, I catch Hawk’s concern stare.

  “Hey. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Sam. Something happened at school, and I need to get to him.”

  He takes a piece of hair that came loose from my bun and tucks it behind my ear. “Let me drive you.”

  I shake my head. “No,” I pull from his grip, “it’s faster if I drive.”

  He cups his hands on the side of my face. “Then let me come with you.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “No, I got it. I’m sure you’re here to see Rose. Go, you need to see her. That’s why you’re in Los Angeles.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Tessa.” He rubs his hand through my hair and pulls me to him, giving me a small hug. I can feel the warmth of his breath on the top of my head. “Call me.” With a drop of a kiss to the top of my head, he steps away and continues towards his mom’s room while I go and see what happened to my son.

  Traffic is a nightmare, of course. It’s Los Angeles, for crying out loud. I’m not used to driving to Sam’s school in the middle of the afternoon, so I wasn’t expecting road closures and bumper to bumper traf
fic. While I’m waiting in gridlock, I send Sarah a text telling her that I’m not going to need her today after all, but I’d appreciate it if she kept him all day tomorrow. I also send Croy a message telling him that I can’t make it to work, which he wasn’t too happy about since it's Thursday.

  Pulling my car into the parking lot a little too fast, I bottom out, completely embarrassing myself in front of the parents and staffing walking around the area.

  “Miss. Reese,” Tamera, the office secretary, greets me as I enter the office. “He’s in with Mr. Shultz.” She points towards the principal’s office.

  “But Petey has been making fun of me. I didn’t know what else to do.” Sam's voice sounds anxious making my mother bear instinct come to life. How dare they question my baby without me being present.

  As soon as I make my way into his office, Mr. Shultz sits back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re able to make it.” He uses his patronizing tone as his gaze sweeps over my white uniform. “I hope we didn’t pull you away from anything too important.”

  “Nothing is more important than my son. What’s this all about?”

  “Well, it seems that Sam punched a fellow student.”

  I suck in a breath. “I don’t understand.” I look from the principal to Sam, who’s hunched over, feet swinging, picking at the lint on his jeans. “Baby,” I kneel down so that I’m eye level with him. “What happened?”

  When he raises his face to mine, I’m almost knocked off my feet. Sam’s bottom lip is swollen. His lashes are stuck together with tears, the whites of his eyes are now pink, and his steel blue irises are a pale gray. “He...” He sniffs. “He kept teasing me.” He sucks in his lip, only to wince in pain.

  I stand up, keeping Sam’s body tucked into my leg. “Why does my son have a fat lip? Why did you not tell me this over the phone?”

  “Parents tend to overreact when we tell them things like that before they’re able to witness it on their own. His lip will be fine by morning.”

  “I don’t understand? Where are Petey and his parents? Why is Sam the only one in your office?”

  “Because it was Sam who started it, Miss Reese. He threw the first punch.”

  “He was making fun of the monsters.”

  He looked at my son. “You lashed out in anger and violence, Sam. That isn’t tolerated at this school.”

  “He does it every day,” Sam continues to whine.

  “That’s no excuse,” the principal states.

  “But Hawk did it, and his friend didn’t bother him anymore.”

  My eyes close at my son’s words. Last night when Sam cried out, and Hawk took care of him, I didn’t think to ask why he had been crying. He settled so quickly I didn’t think much of it.

  “I’m not sure who this Hawk person is, but what he did wasn’t right, and he isn’t teaching you the right ways to handle these situations.”

  “I told Mrs. Parker,” Sam confesses. He looks up at me, “I did, Mommy. I told her, and she didn’t do anything.”

  My gaze hardens as I look at the principal. “Why wasn’t anything done about it?”

  Mr. Shultz pushes himself up in the chair and adjusts his tie. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t aware that there was an ongoing issue. His teacher hasn’t brought it up.”

  “So because the teacher failed to bring it to the administration's attention and did nothing to remedy the situation, the entire thing escalates resulting in my son defending himself against a bully, and Sam is the one being punished?”

  “Like I said, he threw the first punch.”

  “He was defending himself.”

  “There are other ways to take care of the situation. I’m sure you understand that.”

  I grab Sam by the wrist and pull him from the chair. He instantly slings his backpack over his shoulder. “What I understand is that a teacher didn’t do her job, and because of that a child did the only thing that he thought to do, and that was to fight back. We need to fight back, Mr. Shultz. We can’t allow people to bully us, because if we don’t do something about it, then we’ll forever be under their thumb.”

  I turn my back on him and lead Sam out of the office. Upset that my son was hurt, but thankful that he had someone to tell him to stand up for himself.

  I’ll be damned if my son will ever be a victim.

  Hawk

  I rush towards the nurse's station, worried that something more is going on with Sam. “What happened to Sam?”

  Martha closes a clipboard before she looks at me. “I’m not sure. Tessa didn’t say anything. She was upset and told me that she had to go. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.”

  “What can you help with me?”

  She points towards Rose’s room. “She’s awake, and I think it’s time. I’m due for my break, so I’ll go in with you.”

  A lumps forms in my throat. I’m not sure I can take another incident.

  “Come on, big bad biker dude. Let’s go see your mama.” She gestures for me to lead, so I walk towards my mother’s room.

  “You’re certain about this?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir. She’s ready. She knows it was you that was here yesterday.” She steps forward and pushes the door open.

  The room is brighter than it usually is. The television is on low. Rose lies in her bed, with her head turned away from the door, looking out the window. When she doesn’t respond to us entering the room, I grab Martha’s arm.

  “I don’t want to disturb her,” I say in hushed tones.

  “You can’t disturb me if I’m not doing anything, Hawking.” Rose turns her head in my direction, giving me a small smile.

  “How are you doing today, Rose?” Martha asks as she enters the room, leaving me just inside the room.

  “I’m good as to be expected. Detox is a bitch.”

  Martha shakes her head while she chuckles. “You gave Hawk quite a scare yesterday.” She raises Rose’s bed, so she’s sitting up more.

  “Well, think of it from my perspective,” she says matter of factly. “I’m not going to bite, son.” She looks at me with a lifted brow.

  I’ve spent the better part of my life hating this woman. Thinking that she didn’t love me enough to either stick around or take me with her. It’s crazy how a few pieces of information can change that viewpoint. Now, I don’t feel any judgment towards her.

  Martha takes a step back, allowing me enough room to stand next to Rose’s bed. “Let me look at you,” she says. She grasps her hands together, bringing them to her mouth slightly to cover a smile. “Wow, you’re bigger than I remember,” she jokes, but it makes my heart stop.

  “It’s the alcohol, sugar,” Martha whispers in my ear as Rose continues to smile at me. “Her brain isn’t fully functioning. It’s called alcohol dementia. Studies show that she’ll get better as long as she continues to stay sober. If she doesn’t, it’s like feeding the dragon.”

  “How’ve you been? Tell me what you’ve been up to?” She pats her blanket as she adjusts herself in the bed.

  I look at Martha for guidance. “He’s well, Rose. Aren’t’cha, Hawk?”

  “Yes,” I answer as I look at my mother. “I’m doing great. The MC is good.”

  “The MC? What are you talking about? You’re not old enough to be in the MC.”

  “He’s old enough, Rose. You seem to have forgotten how old Hawk is, sweetie.”

  Rose looks confused. She starts to adjust in her bed more, her mouth gasping for air as panic shines in her eyes. “Mom,” I say as I place my hand on her arm. She looks down at our connection and then back to me. “I’m twenty-eight.”

  She wrinkles her eyes as she continues to stare at me. “Of course, you’re twenty-eight. I know how old my firstborn child is. Speaking of which, have you seen your sisters?”

  I roll my lips together, not knowing how to answer. “They'll by later, Mom,” I tell her.

  “Good. That’s good.” She brings her other hand over and pats it on top of my hand that’s still grippin
g her arm.

  “That Loa, she’s a smart cookie. Doesn’t take no one’s shit. But Rhea, my sweet baby Rhea.” She shakes her head and sighs. “She needs the guidance of the Lord, that one. She dances with the devil too much. Your daddy would tan her hide if he knew what she’s been up to. Partying and drinking, breaking all kinds of laws, that one. Wild child if I ever saw one.” She stops and yawns. “She needs her big brother. You’re the only one who can straighten that girl out.” She turns her head and looks at me, the stressors of life etched in her face. “You’ll do that, right? You’ll be there for her?”

  I swallow and nod. Unable to make out words.

  “That’s my good boy,” she says with another sigh. “I love you, Hawking.” Her hand falls limply from mine as her chest rises and falls in steady breaths.

  I stand, pushing the chair from beneath me. “Jesus, Christ.” I grab the back of my neck as I pace. “What was that shit?” I ask as I gesture to the now sleeping Rose.

  “That’s dementia, 101. Alcohol dementia isn’t unlike normal dementia. She has her good days and her bad. There could be times where she knows what day it is or times when she thinks she’s somewhere else in time. Like now.”

  “That’s some freaky shit,” I confess.

  “That it is. But your mother should get better. With every day that passes, her mind should become clearer. Her brain scans show no permanent scarring, which is lucky in her case since she’s been a heavy drinker for over twenty years.”

  “Fuck, Martha, I told her that I’d look after a sister that I’ve never met.”

  “Don’t take that stuff too much to heart. She may not remember asking you to look after her. Hell, she may not remember this entire conversation. You’ll just have to come back and see.” She checks her watch. “Baby, I gotta get back to my rounds. You all right in here?”

  I slide my hand in my back pockets. “Ah, I think I’ll head to Tessa’s and check on her and Sam.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Her brows crease, and when I nod they don’t seem to let up. “You okay with everything you know in regard to Tessa?”