Hawk (Fallen Gliders MC Book 2)

by Lynn Burke

  No words. Just shared breaths until she breathed heavy and I gave over to the exhaustion pulling on my brain.

  ****

  I woke to find only a hint of sunrise around the blinds. Soft curves pressed against my side, and I turned my head, searching for Janie’s outline in the darkness. Rarely did I smile in the morning, but I found myself doing that exact thing while enjoying the moment, being present in the seconds slipping past as she continued to breathe deeply.

  My cock tented the sheet as it did every morning, but I ignored it and focused on my need for coffee. I slipped from the bed, careful to let my little butterfly rest after being ridden so hard the night before. The memory of her tight ass and her cries as she climaxed shot hot lust through my balls until my shaft ached. Tucking my cock into my leathers brought a grimace to my lips.

  She needs sleep, I told myself while tugging on my boots, not bothering to lace them.

  I hesitated at the door, gaze roaming the curves barely outlined on the bed, but clenched my jaw and quietly let myself out.

  Not yet six, and warmth lingered in the air, promising a scorcher of a day. Other than a big rig rumbling by on the highway a few hundred yards to the north, silence coated the flat, dry land.

  A fresh pot of coffee dripped as I let myself into the motel’s office/lounge. The three tables sat empty, but the half-full ashtray and remnants of stale smoke from whoever sat there last burned my nose like acid.

  “Morning,” the man behind the counter called as the door shut behind me.

  “How ya doing?” I asked, not really wanting to know as I made a beeline for the coffeepot.

  “Damn tired. Hope you slept better than I did.”

  I made a noise in my throat he could take however the hell he wanted while pulling two Styrofoam cups from the stacked sleeve beside the bowl of creamer cups and basket of various sugar packets.

  The guy behind me continued his one-sided chat while I stared at the drip, drip of the coffee. Occasionally, I tossed out a grunt of agreement even though I didn’t hear half of what he said.

  Record highs for the day, no chance of rain.

  Had I heard the latest about the buffoon in the Oval Office?

  Sports stats…

  Seriously, I could care the fuck less, I thought while pulling the filled pot out and pouring into the cups.

  At least I tossed a, “Have a good one,” over my shoulder while leaving him five or so minutes later for the fresh, outdoors—and silent—air.

  I filled my lungs before taking a sip of coffee, and my smile returned as I took another. Balancing the two cups in one hand, I let myself back into our room.

  Light spilled from beneath the closed bathroom door, and a quick glance at the bed showed Janie had crawled from beneath the rumpled blankets.

  The shower turned on before the door clicked shut behind me, and I sat Janie’s coffee on the small table to my left while kicking off my boots.

  I imagined her stepping naked into the hot spray, and my cock swelled again. Rather than join her, though, I sat on the edge of the bed, sipped my coffee, and clicked on the TV, immediately muting the noise. The news scrolled along the screen’s bottom as I listened to the shower run, my mind far from headlines and stocks.

  Was a handful of days too soon to fall for a woman? I felt like a fucking giddy teenager with a massive crush—and no hope or desire to see it squashed. Janie filled up the empty parts in my life I hadn’t realized I’d had. She brought happiness where it’d been sorely lacking for a long-ass time, like a rainbow over my head, giving off a burst of color in a dismal world.

  I chuckled at the poetic thoughts in my head. A sap in love?

  The L word didn’t sit well. Never had, but I let the thought linger while drinking my coffee and waiting for Janie to finish up with her shower.

  A muffled sound like a sob came from the bathroom, drawing my gaze to the closed door. Another similar sound brought me to my feet, and I rapped on the door. “Janie? You okay?”

  I frowned as a sure sob reached my ears. Without thought or hesitation, I let myself into the bathroom.

  “Janie?”

  She cried harder, and I tossed my coffee in the sink.

  “Janie?” I asked again when she didn’t answer and tugged back the shower curtain. She huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around her middle, hair unbound and dripping, hiding her face from me. Her ass still sported slight memories of my handprints, but the misery radiating from her kept my thoughts on the present.

  What the fuck…

  I climbed into the shower, uncaring of my leathers and t-shirt. “Janie, what’s wrong, baby?” I asked, reaching for her.

  She shied away from me, but I wasn’t having any of that shit. Unyielding, she stood like stone as I wrapped my arms around her. The shower spit hot water against my shoulder, soaking me as I craned my neck to see if she’d hurt herself.

  I’d taken her too hard the night before. Fucked her ass like she was one of the club whores rather than a young, tender woman to be treasured.

  Goddamn you, Hawk, my mind whispered, clenching my jaw. Motherfucking asshole.

  Half-keening cries spilled from her lips, and my chest ached at the sheer desperation of her voice, the depression slumping her body.

  Fuck. I closed my eyes, tightened my hold on her stiff body, and rested my chin on the top of her head. “I’m so fucking sorry, Janie. So goddamn sorry.”

  She didn’t respond, but only cried harder.

  Unsure of what else to say, I kept my silence as the steam and heat filled the bathroom until I sweated.

  Janie

  I’d woken to a blanket of heavy darkness, the kind of emptiness I’d become well-acquainted with since my mother’s death and my diagnosis. At least Hawk hadn’t been lying beside me, waking to find me crashed into the pit of hell.

  Knowing I probably didn’t have much time, I forced my aching, exhausted legs to move and half-stumbled into the bathroom, desperate to escape the sure heartache to come once he returned.

  I bit my fist at the first sob, but the second escaped. A soft knock and Hawk’s gentle voice calling my name brought the fucking tears on full-force. Unstoppable. Unrelenting.

  He stepped into the shower with me, fully clothed, and I tried to curl in on myself, needing to shield myself, the truth of my illness that would ruin the best thing I’d ever found.

  Warm arms, steady heartbeat against my ear … but no peace.

  Sure he would leave once he learned the truth, I continued to hold myself from clinging to him while my sobs echoed in the damn motel bathroom.

  He would put me on the first plane. Never call, never text, just like every other guy I’d snagged for a few days.

  Although he apologized—God knew what for—nothing could stop the stream of tears until they ran dry.

  In silence we stood, me unyielding, him in soaked clothes, his body like an oven around me even though the bathroom filled with steam. He rubbed my upper arm and half-rocked me like a baby until I quieted.

  I wanted him to leave without saying a word. I wanted him to kiss me, make the shroud of shit over my brain and heart disappear.

  “Janie?” he questioned, pulling away slightly.

  I kept my head down, but he tipped my chin with a finger until I relented. My gaze latched on his mouth, and I refused to look any higher.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  Lips pursed, I shook my head.

  “Did I hurt you last night?”

  I shook my head again.

  “Then what?”

  “I—I can’t…”

  “Did you wash yet?” he asked when I didn’t finish my thought.

  I shook my head.

  Hawk unwrapped the small square soap provided by the motel, lathered his hands, and took his time caressing every inch of me, not lingering on my breasts or between my thighs like I’d expected—and didn’t want him to.

  Once crashed, my body had zero desire for a cock, let alone a man t
ouching me in a sexual way. As though my thoughts had snagged in glue, I couldn’t process, couldn’t make any decision if I’d wanted to.

  The world had lost its color for me. Everything had dulled, the edges of my world blurring.

  A small bottle of shampoo provided the bubbles Hawk worked through my hair, every gentle touch tightening my throat again. I refused to meet his eyes and closed mine when he encouraged me to tip my head back into the spray.

  Once finished, Hawk pulled me toward him again, his hands on my hips, his hard chest and thighs pressing against me.

  “Want to get out of here and have some coffee?” he asked a few minutes later as the steam continued to rise, the hot shower spitting at us both.

  I managed a nod but kept my head down, my arms wrapping around myself the second he released me and stepped out of the shower.

  Hawk held open a towel, and I stepped out, my legs shaking. As though all my energy and fuel had been drained over the previous couple of days, I fought to stay upright as he wrapped me in the length of rough cotton. I didn’t care about anything—the dripping water, the squeak of the nozzle as Hawk shut off the water, him peeling off his soaked clothes and knotting a towel around his hips, the cool air that licked over my skin when he opened the bathroom door. I clutched the towel tight across my breasts as my nipples pebbled.

  “Come on,” he said, grasping my elbow and encouraging me into the main room.

  I stood a few feet from the bed, swaying and staring at the floor while listening to Hawk rummage in my bag. Hell, I didn’t even give a shit that he might come across my wallet and ID with my real name I kept hidden in the bottom.

  “Leggings and t-shirt okay?” he asked, holding the clothes in my line of sight.

  I nodded.

  “Want me to help you dress?”

  “No,” I managed to whisper.

  Hawk sat on the edge of the bed while I dried off and dressed, my movements mechanical in the darkness coating my brain.

  Withholding the truth would only lengthen the looming, heartbreaking goodbye. Even though I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, he liked me enough to stand by my side through the shit, I knew the plummet I’d taken would be too much.

  Although I wanted to curl back up on the bed in a fetal position and plug my ears, I remained on my feet and ran the towel over my damp hair one last time.

  “I got you some coffee,” he said, coming close enough his feet came into my line of sight, “but it’s not too hot now. Want it?”

  I shook my head, lower lip between my teeth and listened as he went to the bathroom and discarded the coffee.

  “I crashed,” I whispered the second he returned to my side, needing to get it over with before the tear factory started back up.

  “What?”

  “My high fucking ended, and this is my low.” I forced myself to look him in the eye. See for myself the rejection so I wouldn’t have any lingering hope.

  Concern filled his face as he searched mine, skin creasing between his brows. “I don’t understand.”

  “My neurotransmitters and circuits are all fucked up, just like my mom’s.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  No trace of disgust. No curl of the lips. No stepping away as though needing to put distance between us lest he catch my mental illness. He stepped close and rested a palm on my hip.

  Tears filled my eyes again as hope he didn’t just misunderstand flitted through my brain. I couldn’t be so lucky.

  “There’s no cure, but I take meds to help lessen the swings,” I whispered, thinking of the bottles with my real last name buried in the bottom of my bathroom bag. “Sticking to a schedule seems to help me, too.” A huff of tear-filled laughter puffed my lips as I hugged myself tighter. “Crossing country like this and staying up all hours of the night definitely didn’t help.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Four words—not the ones I expected to hear. I actually smiled for real even though the black shroud still smothered me.

  Hawk pushed my hair over my shoulder. “So this is your low.”

  I nodded, focusing on the scrolled tattoo on his chest.

  “Are you feeling depressed?”

  “Worse than you can imagine.” Again, my voice came out as a breathless whisper.

  “I’ve dealt with a bit of depression lately. Not that I know what you’re experiencing, but we’ll do whatever you need to feel better, all right?”

  My heart ached, and more tears filled my eyes, wavering the image of his water-pebbled beard.

  “Want to get something to eat?”

  I shrugged while drawing a somewhat fortifying breath.

  “Tell you what—” Hawk glanced at the door leading outside as though he could see through it, his hands lifting to massage my upper arms. “We’ll spend the day here. Rest and relax. Maybe take a dip in that nasty pool out front.”

  “What about your brothers?”

  “We were going to split off from them eventually to take you back to New York, so we’ll just split a little earlier than planned.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Dead.”

  Tears slid down my cheeks, but I held my heart and head in check. If my fucked-up head ran its usual cycle, he’d be sick of my blah, sometimes pissy nature before day’s end. “M’kay.”

  Hawk cradled my head in his hands and swiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ll go talk to Jonny, then we’ll see about getting some breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He kissed my forehead. My nose. “I know the depression makes you feel that way, but your body needs fuel.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he gently kissed my lips. “You’re going to let me take care of you, little butterfly.”

  I nodded, and he turned away.

  Twelve hours earlier, I’d have been salivating as he bared every inch of his skin to me and bent to retrieve new, dry clothes from his own bag.

  Another wave of sadness slammed into me, and I sank onto the edge of the bed. Eyes closed, I let myself down onto the mattress and breathed a deep sigh.

  “Be back in a few, baby.”

  I nodded that I’d heard, and the door clicked shut behind him.

  At least I didn’t feel all combative and bitchy like I sometimes did when crashing after such a manic high. My father always let me beat on his chest and scream—half of the shit I spewed from my lips I couldn’t ever remember. He never spoke of it. Just held me until I slumped into a pile on the floor, and he’d put me to bed.

  Dad.

  More tears, more twists of agony in my stomach.

  Without a doubt, I’d find myself back in New York all too soon—by plane—a slumped, tears-dried-up husk of the vivacious woman Hawk had been so attracted to.

  More tears slid from my clenched eyes to drip onto the flat pillow beneath my head. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged my shins, giving over to the unrelenting, depressing thoughts.

  Hawk

  Fucked up neurotransmitters, she said…

  I considered what Janie must suffer from while shoving my hands into my jeans pockets and making my way down the walkway to the third door down from ours. Her high had drawn me in while in Sturgis, but I refused to let her low spit me back out, leaving us both alone again.

  Her body language had tried to shut me out, protect herself from being tossed aside as I’m sure most men would do at signs of her instability. But I wasn’t some little boy ready to move on to the next fuck. A real man, a seasoned one with enough baggage of my own to drop her jaw, I wasn’t about to leave her behind.

  Janie needed me, whether she knew it or not. I might not be some smart psychologist or doctor who could cure her—if there even was a cure—but I sure as hell knew how to be loyal and stand beside those I loved.

  The damn L word again.

  I shook my head although the thought of actually falling in love with Janie didn’t twist my stomach in knots. Inhaling until it hurt, I rapped on Jonny’s
door.

  It pulled open a few seconds later by a rumpled blond-headed giant, bleary-eyed and scowling.

  “Digger,” I said, rather than good morning since I knew all too well he hated everything about the sunrise.

  “The fuck you want?” he asked while scratching his balls through the boxers sitting on his hips.

  I glanced past him at the two empty, twin beds. “Jonny around?”

  “Went to the office for coffee.”

  Dipping my head, I backed up and started toward the office without another word. While I was known to need coffee in order to function in the morning, Digger often wanted to bash heads in before finally getting his paws on a mug. Best to leave him be until he had two or three cupsful sloshing in his empty stomach.

  Jonny poured coffee into cups when I entered the office again. He glanced over his shoulder as the office manager called another greeting my way. “Still able to walk?” Jonny asked with a grin as I drew close.

  “We need to talk,” I said without cracking a smile.

  His lips flat-lined as he nodded. Without a word, he handed me a coffee and poured another.

  I followed him back outside and toward his room.

  “What’s up?” he asked and raised one of the cups in his hands to sip.

  “If it’s all right with you, Janie and I are going to stay on here for a day or two.”

  His brow lifted as he glanced over at me. “What’s up?” he asked again.

  I heaved a breath. “Long story short, I think she’s bipolar. Has it bad and crashed this morning.”

  “Crashed as in depressive episode?”

  I nodded. “Your sister is bipolar, isn’t she?”

  “Aubrey is, yes. Is Janie on meds?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jonny handed me one of the coffees in his hands and opened his room’s door.

  The room smelled of sweaty feet and shit.

  “Turn the fucking fan on!” Jonny hollered at the closed bathroom door.

  “It’s on!” Digger hollered back.

  “Then open the fucking window!” Jonny put Digger’s coffee on the bed stand between the beds and motioned at one of the chairs on either side of the small table beneath the room’s front window.