HAWK (Lords of Carnage MC)

by Daphne Loveling

“Real enough. Besides,” he continues, taking a long moment to rake his eyes over my body, “you’ll like it a lot better when you’re screaming it with my head between your legs.”

  I’m in the middle of swallowing, and some of the gin goes down the wrong pipe, making me start to gasp and splutter. Hawk reaches over to pound me on the back, but I wave him off.

  “Do you… actually get results with that line?” I say in a strangled voice, when I can finally breathe again.

  “Never used it before now,” he murmurs, leaning in and speaking the words against my ear. “But it looks like I’m about to.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I cry, pulling back and rounding on him. “Sorry, I think you have me mixed up with someone who has no standards.” Anger courses through me, or maybe that’s the alcohol. It feels good to get mad at him. Like I’m the one in control.

  I’m opening my mouth to go off on him when a shout from over toward the main crowd makes me turn my head.

  “Hey, y’all!” calls a tall, handsome man with a thick blond beard. “It’s time to drink a toast to the bride and groom!”

  A bunch of people in the crowd whoop and yell in response. “Go for it, Angel!” one of the other men shouts.

  “Shit, I have to go,” I mutter, handing Hawk what’s left of my drink. I head over to where the man called Angel is talking, fumbling with my camera as I go. I should have been paying attention to this. Now I can only hope his speech is long so I can get good light and some good shots before he’s done.

  “I don’t mind tellin’ y’all that it was a little bit of an adjustment for me when I learned that my best buddy and my baby sister were seeing each other,” Angel begins. “Matter of fact,” he chuckles, “seems to me I remember giving Ghost a piece of my mind, and my fist, when I found out.”

  The crowd turns to Cas and Jenna with a laugh. Cas raises his beer and nods at Angel with a grin. I move in at an angle and start snapping.

  “But I gotta say, I can’t think of anybody I’d trust more to be by Jenna’s side. And Ghost, you’re a lucky man to have someone like Jenna. I know she’ll always love you and be the best mama to your kids she can be.”

  Some of the women awwww, and a few of the men whistle. It is unexpectedly touching. I say unexpectedly because even though I have photographed plenty of weddings, I secretly don’t like them very much. Chalk it up to personal history, maybe, but it’s a little hard for me to believe in the “happily ever after” thing. From what I’ve seen in my twenty-three years, it’s generally not much more than a fairy tale for people who prefer to live in hope instead of relying on experience.

  But as Angel continues to talk about the couple, and I snap shots of how happy everyone is for them, I start to feel a little misty-eyed in spite of myself. It’s probably just the gin and tonic, I tell myself crossly. I shouldn’t have broken my rule and had that drink. Plus, unlike most weddings where the bartenders tend to water down the drinks, I think the bartender actually made mine stronger than normal. Dimly, I realize I’ve forgotten to eat the energy bar I tucked in my bag, and that as a consequence I haven’t had any non-liquid calories in almost five hours.

  I’m making a mental note to grab a hot dog or something to tide me over when I suddenly see the perfect angle for a photo. If I can just manage to get up on one of the large speakers behind Angel before he’s done talking, I can get a shot of him making his toast in the foreground, with the perfect framing of the newlyweds in the background. Nothing makes me more excited than a well-timed picture, so I immediately head over and grab a folding chair, then move behind the speaker and use it to boost myself up.

  The speaker is a little wobbly, like an old stepladder, but I’m not going to be up there for very long. The perfect angle for the shot will be with me crouching and off to one side, so I inch my left foot to the edge and lean out slightly. Just as Angel is holding up his beer to say the official toast, Jenna looks up at Cas in the background, and I refocus the lens and triumphantly start snapping the exact shot I was hoping to catch.

  “To Jenna and Ghost!” Angel yells.

  The crowd roars in loud approval. Then, someone somewhere starts the music up again. The loud boom of the first drumbeat coming from the speaker I’m standing on startles me, and before I can realize what’s happening I’ve lost my balance and am falling backwards. My instinct to windmill my hands and catch onto something is overridden by my instinct to protect my camera, and before I know it I’m in free fall, desperately hoping whatever I come into contact with when I hit the ground won’t hurt too badly.

  There’s a sickening moment when I’m airborne, my stomach in my throat.

  And then I’m caught up in someone’s strong, muscular arms.

  I’m starting to breathe out a shocked sigh of relief, when an all-too familiar voice murmurs in my ear:

  “Do I get bonus points for saving the camera?”

  5

  Hawk

  Days later, I can practically still smell the scent of her shampoo tickling my nose as I caught her in my arms, just before she hit the ground.

  I could see right away that the speaker she was about to climb up on was wobbly and might not be safe for her to stand on, but I didn’t want to yell at her and spoil Angel’s toast. As she clambered up on top of it, I circled around behind the crowd to the other side, until I was standing right behind it. My plan at first was to hold onto the speaker for her and steady it as she took pictures, but the thing started to wobble backward before I could get to it. So instead, I just barely had time to put my arms out before she dropped right into them.

  It happened so quickly she didn’t even have time to yell or cry out. Being caught before hitting the ground surprised her into silence. But that didn’t last long.

  “Do I get bonus points for saving the camera?” I murmured in her ear.

  The look of shock on her face turned to indignation when she realized it was me who’d caught her.

  “Are you seriously following me around this reception?” she sputtered, her eyes wide.

  “You’re welcome,” I grinned. Instead of letting her go, I tightened my grip on her just a little. She felt light in my arms, and one of her breasts was brushing against my chest. I took another whiff of her hair, and tried to decide whether to kiss her.

  Samantha looked like she was trying to consider whether to scream at me or murder me. “You know, you could have broken your neck, climbing up on that shaky thing,” I admonished her. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “None of your business what I was thinking,” she bit out. “I was trying to capture an angle. I had a shot in mind. Which I did get, by the way.”

  “I think that gin and tonic has impaired your judgment,” I said mildly. “Why didn’t you ask someone to help you?”

  “There wasn’t time,” she said impatiently. “I didn’t know how long Angel was going to talk. Now, are you going to let me down?”

  “Are you going to promise me you won’t do anything like that again without asking for some help?” I tightened my grip on her just a little more, to show her I wasn’t kidding around. It was cute that she was so mad, but frankly, she could have seriously hurt herself. The way she was falling, backwards like that without her hands out to protect her, she could be on her way to the emergency room right now. A belated spike of adrenaline shot through my veins, making me feel a little sick, and a little mad.

  “I mean it sweetheart,” I rasped, lowering my voice. My jaw tensed. “You almost cracked your fool head open. You’re damn lucky I was there to catch you.”

  Samantha’s brow knit in frustration. I was sure she was going to start kicking and screaming or something to get out of my arms. But then, just when I was about to give in and let her go, her plump bottom lip slid between her teeth.

  That lip I was dying to bite.

  My cock sprang to life, instantly rock hard.

  “Okay,” she half-whispered, her eyes barely meeting mine. “You’re right. I could have gotten
hurt.” She was so close to me that I could see her pupils, wide and dark. As my eyes locked on hers, I could hear her breathing speed up. Her bottom lip escaped her teeth.

  I suppressed a groan. My cock throbbed under my zipper. Jesus fuck, I wanted to crush her mouth with mine, carry her to the first flat surface and sink myself deep inside her. It hit me with so much force it almost felt like I’d been punched.

  Why the fuck I didn’t just go for it, I have no goddamn idea.

  Instead, like a fucking fool, I set her down, stepped back, and nodded.

  “That’s better,” I said gruffly.

  Then I turned, walked away, and proceeded to get drunker than shit off a bottle of whiskey I grabbed from behind the bar.

  When I woke up, it was after four in the morning, and someone had stuffed a wad of cotton in my mouth and taken a ball peen hammer to my skull. Samantha was gone by then, of course. And I haven’t seen her since.

  Not that I haven’t wanted to. Hell, I’ve been thinking about her off and on ever since that night. Like now.

  But I was lying when I said I wasn’t sure why I didn’t just go for it with Samantha. I know exactly why.

  Because when I looked in those deep brown eyes, I wanted her. Wanted her so much I could taste it. Wanted to possess every inch of her body, to hear her call my name when she came.

  Wanting is dangerous. When you want things, sometimes it makes you do stupid shit. You make mistakes.

  If I need sex, I can get sex. The club girls are always around, and beyond that, I’ve never had to try too hard to attract women. I want the hot photographer, sure, but I don’t need her. I can get my needs satisfied somewhere else. The wanting part is irrelevant. I’ve learned to ignore what I want. It’s better that way.

  “Is Ghost back yet?” Gunner asks me as he walks up to the bar.

  “They just got back into town,” I tell him, and signal Jewel for a beer. “Angel said he and Jenna went over to Skid’s place to pick up the kids and bring them back home. Ghost should be here soon, once he gets done dropping them all off.”

  Ghost and Jenna just got back from their honeymoon: a five-day motorcycle trip that Ghost had planned as a surprise for his bride. He’d made all the arrangements himself — even down to getting Rena, Skid’s old lady, to babysit Ghost and Jenna’s kids for the time they’d be gone.

  “I bet Ghost is gonna be one relaxed motherfucker, after five straight days getting shitloads of tail,” Gunner says, giving me a wolfish grin.

  “Not sure how they could pack much more in than they already do,” I chuckle.

  Ghost and Jenna are all over each other most of the time. Even with two young kids, they still act like teenagers around each other. Which is fitting, because they had been teenagers when they first got together. Ghost told me the whole story one night, when we happened to be sitting outside the bar having a smoke. He and Jenna had a short fling one summer when she’d been home trying to get her shit together after a rough semester at college. After they hooked up, Jenna left town again, and there’d been a span of about five years where Ghost didn’t see her at all. When she came back to Tanner Springs, she had a little boy named Noah in tow. It didn’t take long for Ghost and Jenna to start back up again in secret. Eventually, it came out that they had gotten back together — and that Ghost was Noah’s daddy.

  It’s amazing how things work out sometimes, I think to myself. All that time, Ghost and Jenna were apart, living their own lives. And now here they are: sure enough of what they have together to tie the knot and settle down as a family.

  I can’t imagine it, personally. I can’t imagine trusting a woman enough to believe in something permanent like that. Granted, Jenna is about as solid as they come. Hell, I completely understand why Ghost wanted to stand up in front of his friends and family and make it official with her. If I had someone I was that sure about, maybe I’d feel the same way. But in my experience, women like Jenna are pretty damn rare. And the crazy ones are a dime a dozen.

  A sour taste rises up in my throat, and I snort in disgust. I grab my beer and take a long pull to wash the taste away. I try not to think about shit I can’t change. Doesn’t do any good anyway.

  Just then, the door to the clubhouse opens, and Tweak comes sauntering in. He lifts his chin at us in greeting but doesn’t stop on his way to the back of the clubhouse. Gunner lifts his hand in a wave then turns to me, his eyes twinkling. “I still don’t think Tweak’s quite forgiven us for putting his bike up in that tree,” he murmurs, laughter in his voice.

  I can’t help but grin at the memory. “Can’t say I completely blame him,” I answer. Getting Tweak’s bike back down from the tree had been a little trickier than we had expected. Turned out, the bike shifted in the branches and got stuck as hell. Tweak and four of the other guys ended up having to take a chain saw up there and saw off one of them, and the bike almost fell out of the tree and came crashing to the ground. The brothers’ little drunken prank had almost cost Tweak his prized Road King, and he wasn’t quite ready to forget it just yet.

  “He’ll get over it eventually. Hell, no harm no foul, right? Except for Geno’s tree, of course.” It was true, Geno wasn’t exactly happy about the damage we’d done either.

  Gunner shakes his head and grins at me. “God damn, Ghost’s wedding was one hell of a party. We haven’t had one like that in quite a while.”

  “No shit, brother,” I say, clapping him on the back.

  Gunner gets up to take a leak, and I sit there and finish my beer. It was a hell of a good time, I think as I smile to myself.

  Even though my favorite memory of the evening has more to do with the hot photographer. Samantha.

  I really, really need to get her out of my mind.

  Not long after Gunner comes back from taking a piss, Ghost comes walking through the front door of the clubhouse. The brothers crowd around him, welcoming him home and slapping him on the back.

  “Well, Ghost, what’s it like banging a married chick?” Brick jokes as the others laugh.

  “Watch it, brother,” Angel warns him. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, okay, sorry,” Brick corrects himself. “What’s it like banging Angel’s married sister?”

  Angel pulls back a fist and pretends he’s gonna slug Brick, who ducks and starts cracking up.

  “Aren’t you glad to be back here with the lot of these gobshites?” Thorn sighs, shaking his head.

  “I haven’t missed it nearly as much as you’d think,” Ghost grins.

  Tank rolls his eyes. “You love us. You were crying into your beer every night thinking about us while you were gone.”

  “Brother, I was way too busy for that,” Ghost tells him. “Although, I was wondering, did Tweak ever get his bike out of Geno’s tree?”

  Just then Rock emerges from the back. “So this is what all the noise is about out here,” he growls. He nods toward Ghost. “Good to see you, brother,” he says gruffly. “Wife doin’ okay?”

  Ghost smirks. “She’s doing great, thanks.”

  “Good deal.” Rock turns to the rest of us. “Put the welcome wagon on hold. Church in three.”

  “Well, there it is. Honeymoon officially over,” Ghost mutters with a grin.

  We file into the chapel and take our normal seats around the table. Rock comes in last, and sits down heavily at the head place.

  “Calling this meeting to order,” Rock bellows, striking the gavel on the table. “Glad you’re back, Ghost. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  6

  Samantha

  I raise my arms in a long, painful stretch and wince at a sudden twinge. My back is killing me.

  I’ve been sitting at my workspace for close to four hours, editing photos of Jenna and Cas’s wedding and compiling them into an online wedding gallery. I should really take a break, but I want to finish putting together the perfect collection of shots for her, and I have a ton to choose from.

  One of the most important
aspects of doing wedding photography is creating a gallery — and eventually a wedding album — that really captures the mood and the atmosphere of the couple’s big day. You might think that would be easy, or that most weddings are basically the same in that regard. But in fact, every wedding has its own story to tell. And it’s my job to bring that unique story out through the photos.

  Sometimes, telling that story involves selectively… muting certain parts of it. Like the wedding I did a few months ago, where the mother of the bride showed up in a white dress that rivaled the bride’s wedding gown in splendor. The mom was a plastic surgery disaster with enough makeup on to make Arnold Schwarzenegger look like Angelina Jolie. The bride’s parents were divorced, and her dad was remarried to a much younger woman. It was pretty clear the bride’s mom was having a serious midlife freakout, trying to compete with both her ex-husband’s new wife and her own daughter. Understandably, the bride had a complete meltdown while we were doing the pre-wedding photo shoot of the families.

  Yeah, try putting together pictures of that wedding that won’t just remind the bride of how horrible her mom was on her big day. It was a challenge, to say the least.

  Luckily, in the case of Jenna and Cas — or Ghost, as his fellow motorcycle club members call him — I don’t have to do any selective editing. The bride was radiant, the groom was handsome, and everyone had an absolutely great time. And since I made sure not to take pictures of anything X-rated at the reception, most of the shots I snapped are usable. It’s just a question of selecting the best ones to tell the story of the day.

  When I finally think I have everything edited and in place the way I want it, I stand up, take a walk around the carriage house, and then grab my laptop and take it over to the couch. It’s time to look at the whole thing like I’m seeing it for the first time — as though I’m Jenna and Cas. What will they see when they open up the gallery and start to click through?