“Can’t get a hold of ‘im.”
“Where’s Z?”
“On his way. Told me to call you, too.”
“Yeah,” Hawk grunted and closed his eyes for a moment. “Fuck. Okay. See who else you can round up. Don’t approach. Observe. Got me?”
There was a hesitation.
“Fuckin’ got me?” Hawk barked.
Finally, “Got you.”
“On my way.” He frowned. “Hang up.”
She didn’t know if he was talking to her or the guy on the phone, but Kiki jabbed the End button and disconnected the call.
With an irritated sigh, Hawk growled, “Know I run a bar, babe. Usually there at this time of night. Figured I could go one night without me babysittin’ it.”
“Who was that?”
“Abe.”
“Abe?”
“Yeah. Don’t know his fuckin’ real name an’ don’t care to know. Right now, he’s just a prospect. He’s even lower than p—” His eyes slid to hers, then quickly away. “We gotta go.”
“Oh, no. You finish that sentence.”
“The fuck I will.” He dropped her gently to the ground, breaking their connection, and then smacked her ass. “Let’s go, woman.”
“I can just go home. We can do this another time.” She pulled at her skirt in attempt to adjust it back in place.
“No. Comin’ with me.”
She zipped the skirt closed. “I don’t need to do that.”
“Not done here, babe. Soon as this business is dealt with, we have our own business to finish.”
She’d just had two awesome orgasms but the promise of more tonight made her hesitate.
Was she seriously thinking about going with him to his bar? Oh good lord. She was. And she was sort of curious on what it was like.
“I think I’m overdressed.”
“Not sure I want you goin’ in there with no panties. Got ‘em in the car?”
“Yes.”
He eyeballed her outfit. “Should be on the back of my bike, but that skirt won’t do. How ‘bout grabbin’ some of Jazz’s clothes?”
“She’s a bit slimmer than me, Hawk.” And much younger, meaning she couldn’t imagine Jazz had anything Kiki would want to be caught dead in public with. Even at a biker bar.
“Yeah.”
She arched a brow at him. “Yeah?” she repeated.
“Like it. Don’t want a skinny bitch. Need somethin’ to hold on to when I’m ridin’.”
“Wouldn’t I sit on the back of your bike and I’d be holding on to you?”
“Meant in bed, babe.”
A smile crept across her face. “We should go.”
“Gotta take your ride.”
She sighed and snagged the key fob off the foyer shelf where she had placed it earlier. She automatically held them out. “Guess you’re driving then.”
“Damn straight.” He plucked them from her fingers and shoved them into his pocket. “Gonna get dressed.” Without waiting for her to respond, he jogged up the steps. Kiki couldn’t help but watch his ass as he did so.
She hoped the business at his bar didn’t take long at all.
* * *
When he came back down, she was already outside waiting in the passenger seat. That pleased him to no fucking end.
He shook his head to himself as he approached the low-sitting, expensive sports car. Beautiful woman, smart, successful.
He never expected to be sliding into the driver’s seat of a practically brand-new Vette with a woman like Kiki next to him.
Fuck no.
Shit wasn’t going to last long. She was way too independent to want to deal with his shit. But he was going to milk it out as long as he could.
He liked having class sliding up and down his dick.
When he settled into the seat next to her and pressed the start button, the 6.2-liter engine powered by six hundred-fifty horses roared to life.
Damn. That right there was enough to give him a hard-on.
“Your vest is inside out.”
“Yep.” He felt her gaze on him as he put the car in reverse. He twisted his head to back the car out of the driveway.
He had to be careful with his big-ass feet and bulky boots on the accelerator. With the power this baby had, it was super responsive to even the slightest touch. “Don’t wear your colors in a cage.”
“Colors?”
“Cut,” he clarified as he backed into the street and shoved the shifter into drive.
She shook her head.
He yanked at his leather vest. “Cut. Colors.”
“Ah. Why’s that?”
“DAMC ain’t a car club, babe.”
“Got it.”
He grinned at her and squeezed her bare knee. “Good. Glad you’re gettin’ it.”
He mashed down on the gas pedal and the back tires chirped then they shot forward. Hawk chuckled at Kiki’s gasp.
“Gonna drive this bitch like it’s stolen,” he declared and did just that.
Chapter Seven
Hawk kept a hand at the small of Kiki’s back as he guided her through the front entrance of The Iron Horse. The normal, familiar bar smells and sounds hit him as soon as they walked through the door. Smoke, beer and fried bar food wafted through the air. The clack of pool balls sounded in stereo since busy billiard tables filled both sides of the bar.
He spotted the two prospects, Abe and Moose, behind the bar that stretched along the back of the room. He was relieved to see one of their new prospects, Moose, tending bar tonight since he was just like his nickname, as big as a moose. And Abe wasn’t a hot head so he was good at breaking up fights or talking people down before a brawl broke out.
So, if Diesel wasn’t there to have his back, at least two of the better prospects were.
He kept his eyes set on his destination and deliberately didn’t look to where the suspicious biker sat. In the car, he had told Kiki to do the same. He was proud that she managed to keep her gaze forward. Though, he was sure her eyes were sliding back and forth as she checked out his business.
When they hit the bar, he steered her to an empty bar stool. “Babe, sit. Get her anythin’ she wants,” he directed Abe.
The young prospect nodded and slid down the bar to stand in front of her, giving her the eyeball.
Waving a hand, she dismissed the offer. “I’m good, thanks,” she told the prospect.
Hawk leaned down and muttered, “Get a drink, babe. On the house.”
Then it hit him that she probably didn’t drink beer or whiskey, or anything he normally stocked behind the bar. Her alcohol selections probably consisted of expensive wine, champagne and fancy martinis.
“Just a whiskey neat, then.” Kiki said.
Well, damn, that was his girl. Abe grinned wide and slapped an empty shot glass in front of her, another one in front of Hawk and poured them each a double shot of Jack.
As he was serving them, he leaned toward Hawk and said low, “Back right corner. Jeans, black tee, been nursin’ the same beer for a good while now.”
Hawk jerked his chin up slightly, then casually turned around, leaning back against the bar between Kiki and the empty bar stool next to her. Pressing against her side, he made it look like he was about to have a conversation with her while his gaze sliced through the semi-busy room.
It wasn’t packed tonight, but it wasn’t dead, either. But there was no mistaking the guy in the back corner sitting by himself.
From what Hawk could see through the haze of smoke in the open floor space, the man was at least in his late twenties if not early thirties, had two full sleeves of tats, and his neck was covered, too. His hair was short and tight, like military or law enforcement tight, not shaggy in the least. If it wasn’t for the neck ink, Hawk may have leaned toward believing the guy was a plant for some law enforcement agency and not another club.
Either way, Hawk didn’t recognize him and like Abe had said on the phone, he didn’t wear a cut. The bar didn’t have a “n
o colors” policy and they welcomed other clubs as long as they didn’t stir up shit. So, if he belonged to a club other than the Warriors he should be wearing his patches.
Maybe he was just a lone wolf.
Before he could straighten up and approach the guy, Zak pushed through the swinging doors from the kitchen area that divided the private clubhouse and the public bar.
Z’s gaze pinned on Kiki as he advanced, and it wasn’t difficult to see he was trying to hide his surprise. He came around the bar to clasp hands and bump shoulders with Hawk.
“Chicken Hawk,” Z greeted with a grin.
“Z.”
Zak’s gaze dropped to Kiki, who Hawk noticed had her deep blue peepers glued to the club’s former president. He tamped down the jealousy that stabbed at him like a knife.
“He’s got an ol’ lady, stop eyeballin’ him.”
Kiki’s eyes widened for a second then her brows dropped low and she said, “Are you going to ask me if I did him, too?”
Zak let out a long, low whistle then laughed. “Damn.”
“Know you didn’t do him, don’t gotta ask.”
Kiki held out her hand to Zak. “Kiki Clark. Since he’s not introducing me, I’ll introduce myself. I’m your club’s new attorney.”
Zak’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “What happened to Pudwhacker?”
“Tom passed you guys on to me.”
Zak took Kiki’s offered hand and instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his grinning mouth. Hawk couldn’t stop the little growl that slipped from his lips.
Zak’s eyes shot to him and he laughed again. Releasing Kiki’s hand, he whacked Hawk’s shoulder. “Got it, Chicken Hawk.”
Kiki’s gaze shot to him, too. “Got what?”
“Ain’t lookin’. Got my ball an’ chain,” Zak said, his eyes flashing with amusement and ignoring Kiki’s question. “Definitely don’t need another one.”
Grabbing the double shot that sat in front of him, Hawk downed it, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Once the warmth of the whiskey rushed into his gut, he pushed that jealousy aside to deal with what was currently going on.
Without even looking, Zak asked, “Guy in the far right corner?”
“Yeah,” Hawk grunted. Z must have pegged the guy as soon as he came through the double swinging doors.
“Wanna approach? Have words?”
“Who else is around?” Hawk asked.
Zak lifted a shoulder. “Can’t find D. Crow was in church earlier but left to go chase a piece of pussy. Grizz was planted on his ass in his normal spot when I came through. Need ‘im?”
Hawk cocked a brow.
“Didn’t think so,” Zak said. “Just gonna have a coupla words. Don’t need anyone else.”
“Right,” Hawk grunted.
Zak looked down the bar at Moose. “Got that big fucker down there if we need ‘im.” He jerked his chin toward the corner. “But that guy ain’t takin’ both of us if it comes down to it.”
“Right,” Hawk grunted again. Z was right. Hawk alone was bigger than the stranger. He was bigger than most guys, except for his brother, Diesel, and Moose might not be taller, but he definitely had some substantial girth.
Hawk’s gaze slid to Abe. “Watch her.” He tilted his head toward Kiki. “Anything happens send in Moose first. Got me?”
“Gotcha,” Abe said with a chin lift.
He looked down at Kiki. “Babe, don’t move from this seat unless shit goes down. Abe’ll send you through those doors there.” He jerked his chin toward the kitchen’s double doors. “Keep goin’ ’til you find an old fuck sittin’ at the club’s bar. He’ll take it from there. Got me?”
Kiki’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, babe.”
She grabbed his forearm. “Did you forget you’re on probation?”
His gaze dropped to her warm, delicate fingers wrapped around his thick, tattooed arm. The contrast between the two of them hit him hard. “Nope.”
“Do you think I’m going to be able to get your ass out of jail as easily as last time?”
He peeled her fingers from his skin and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Yep. That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”
Kiki did a soft little snort and shook her head.
Zak elbowed him into action and they headed toward the back corner. Hawk watched as the stranger sat upright in his chair and straightened his shoulders, now on notice and, though his face was a blank mask, his eyes were active, aware. He had no doubt that the two brothers were headed his way with a purpose.
When they got to his table, the guy greeted them with a chin lift which neither he or Z returned. Then the lone biker used a booted foot to kick out one of the empty chairs from under the table. “Have a seat.”
With a quick glance at Z, Hawk pulled the offered chair out further and sank his weight into it. Zak grabbed another chair from a nearby table, spun it backwards and settled on it, arms crossed over the chair back.
“Hawk. That’s Zak.”
The guy did another chin lift toward the both of them. “Slade.”
“That your sled out front?” Hawk asked him. It was a sweet Harley that was well taken care of. Hawk couldn’t help but respect a man who took pride in his ride.
Slade leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah.”
“Watcha doin’ here?”
“Just enjoyin’ a beer.”
“Beer’s probably flat an’ warm ‘bout now.”
“How’d you know? You just got here a little while ago.”
“True. We got eyes.”
Slade nodded, his eyes flicking to the bar and then back to Hawk. “It’s a biker bar. Ain’t bikers welcome? That’s what the sign says out front.”
“You read it right. You ain’t wearin’ colors, though.”
Slade lifted an eyebrow. “That a requirement for a beer?”
“Nope. You attached?”
Slade ran a finger down his beer mug and shook his head slightly. “No, man.”
Hawk studied the man before him. “Know who we are?”
“Yeah. Heard of your club.”
Hawk continued his questioning since the man didn’t seem to be taking offense to it. “You from ‘round here?”
“North of the ‘burgh.”
Hawk noticed a thin metal chain around Slade’s neck, but whatever was hanging at the end of it was tucked into his worn Iron City Beer T-shirt. That type of chain was easily recognizable so it sparked his curiosity. “Dog tags?”
Slade’s hand automatically went to this chest where there was an unmistakable outline under the thin cotton. Yeah, that’s what they were.
He wasn’t a hundred percent sure of this Slade, but Hawk was pretty confident he wasn’t a Warrior.
“Army?”
Slade pulled up one sleeve and on his right bicep was a USMC logo tattooed into his flesh.
Marine. Oorah.
Zak made a noise then shifted in his chair. “Should join us. Lookin’ for some good recruits.”
Slade’s eyes landed on Z. “Did some time with another club. Not lookin’ to do that time again.”
Z tilted his head, his interest clearly written across his face. “Were you patched in?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Club went in the wrong direction. Wasn’t lookin’ to do time in a concrete cage. ‘Specially for stupid shit.”
Z blew out a breath. “Hear ya on that. DAMC’s goin’ the other way. Lookin’ for solid people.”
Slade shrugged. “Think about it. Not sure I wanna be tied down.”
“Hear ya on that, too. Club can be like a naggin’ bitch sometimes. A noose ‘round your neck.”
“Amen to that, brother.”
Zak rapped his knuckles on the table. “Think about it.”
“Won’t prospect.”
Hawk grunted. “Gotta prospect.”
Slade’s dark eyes swung to him. “D
efinitely not interested then. Too old for that shit.”
Now that he was close, Hawk reevaluated Slade’s age. He now guessed thirty or so. “You find you’re lookin’ to settle, stop in. I’m not here, whoever’s behind the bar will find me.”
“You president?”
“No, VP.”
Slade’s gaze hit the bar again. “That your woman?”
Hawk twisted his neck and followed his gaze. Kiki was still where he left her but she had swung around to observe them. His lips twisted into a frown. The woman had a great pair of legs and they were hard to miss since she had them crossed as she leaned back against the bar on her elbows. One foot encased in those fucking heels was swinging, drawing most of the bar clientele’s attention in her direction.
Not that he blamed them, he just didn’t like it.
Fuck that. He hated it.
“Workin’ on it,” Hawk muttered. He ignored the startled look Z sent his way.
“Aimin’ high,” Slade murmured.
Hawk sucked at his teeth as Kiki raised her shot glass to him, winked, then downed what looked like another double.
Shit.
He needed to get her home and out of those clothes now that things proved okay there at the bar.
He pushed up and out of his chair, motioned to Moose, then yelled across the room, “Get this Marine a fuckin’ beer.”
A few “Oorahs” rose up through the bar and Hawk grinned. He offered his hand to Slade, who slapped a palm against his and then shook it firmly. “See combat?”
“Yeah.”
“Drink free here anytime, even if you don’t join us.”
Slade nodded. “Appreciate it, brother.”
Hawk looked at Zak who remained seated. “Comin’?”
“Nope. Slade don’t mind, wanna hear some war stories.”
Hawk grunted and strode back to the bar. He snagged Kiki’s elbow and helped her from the stool. “Let’s go.”
Her eyes dropped to her shot glass that Abe was apparently keeping topped off. “I have a—”
Hawk grabbed the glass and down the double shot of Jack, hissed through the burn, then said, “No, you don’t. Let’s go.”
He guided her back to the entrance of the bar, giving Slade and Z a last chin lift before they walked out the door.
Down & Dirty: Books 1-3: Dirty Angels MC Series Box Set Page 46