by V. Theia
A goal like Hawk?
There was the challenge.
Could she give up without even trying?
But as any Marinos could attest. She didn’t give up easily. Not when she wanted something—someone.
Waiting a decade was far too long.
******
There was two very important things people didn’t know about Colton Hawk.
One; If you called him Colton he wouldn’t give you a fair warning never to do it again.
He would straight up fucking kill you.
He hated the name and hated the bitch that spat him out who gave it to him.
And two; He worshipped, completely obsessed over a woman who was so far out of his league he would need to catch three connecting buses to even have a shot at licking her zip code.
That was Hawk in a nutshell.
The unstable, deranged, or some would assume from his outwardly attitude of fuck you, Vice President of the disreputable criminally minded MC, Colorado chapter.
They wouldn’t be wrong.
Even now he questioned Rider on how smart of a decision was it to put him as second in command of the entire MC when they all knew he was a hair-trigger away from exploding at any given time. Rider said he knew what he was doing.
The biased opinion of his oldest friend.
If you asked Hawk, Lawless would have been a better candidate. So, what if the guy liked to put the hurt on people. So, did Hawk, but Lawless had the cool, collected smart to go with it. No one should ever look to Hawk to lead.
He was better on his own. Though he missed home. He missed the numbing nothingness he felt most of the time in Colorado breathing the mountain air.
Knowing Gia was in the same area was fucking him up in ways he couldn’t put into words.
Jittery.
His skin too tight.
He couldn’t quit his obsession. Therein lies the rub. Any sane man would have dropped the fancy for the unattainable a long time ago.
She was a damn baby.
Or she was when he scraped his ugly, perverted eyes on her that first time.
She was too damn young when he kissed her, too.
A woman could do a lot of damage, he’d seen it first-hand. He wore the scars, he didn’t need a T-shirt advertising. He watched now as his closest allies tied themselves in knots over their old lady’s. Lowering their pride and becoming something other than the hard-worn men he’d worked alongside since he was a boy.
It wasn’t normal.
And he had to wonder—because Hawk was not the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to women and reading body language—what was the big deal?
He’d been called a woman hater many times, just because he didn’t date, didn’t want to fucking date, cuddle, talk or anything else with a woman other than stick his dick in her for five minutes.
And don’t fucking touch him either.
But observing his brothers in their weird … happiness, or so the delusion told, he felt as though he was stuck in place. Trapped in the web of a woman he couldn’t have, wouldn’t allow it, more to the point, for valid reasons that all started and ended with him being a dirty piece of shit.
But he wondered sometimes.
If his own madness was any different to that of having an old lady and being happy.
It dictated the mind like a goddamn disease, as far as he could tell.
And now he was pissed at himself. He furrowed his brow, leaned over his clasped hands and let the sounds of the Austin chapter MC filter back into his brain to replace the noise of something he had no business thinking about.
He sounded like a damn weak-spined bastard with all the idiot nonsense.
Really. Fuck.
Being in Austin was messing his head up.
The steak Hawk ate only an hour ago started to clutch in his belly. Throwing grease and nervous energy through his system like he was a fucking ice dancer standing on unsteady blades. He hated the feeling, loathed any emotion that sneaked under his barriers.
Around him men shuffled back and forth. Going in and out of their clubhouse with their absurd racket and smells of coffee wafting by his seat at the bar.
Hawk chose to have his back to the room, not that he trusted any of these men, he just didn’t want to give any opening to a conversation. Some arrived for work in the body shop attached to the compound, it did good business and he helped a few days a week if they were backlogged with repairs, otherwise he kept to himself.
Hawk listened to prospects getting their orders. He still hadn’t decided if he wanted to bribe any of the young ones to spy for him. Maybe follow Rex when he couldn’t.
Club came first.
Club was always first.
So, for Rex, the mega dipshit ex-president to be in touch with the new enemy in Armado Springs back home it was the ultimate betrayal. Sure, Rider had ousted his uncle fair and square more than a decade ago when it was clear Rex was running the MC into the ground with his lazy attitude. But to turn against not only his own nephew but the club oath.
Fucking insult.
Hawk wanted to bury the man.
“Anything I can get you, son?” He heard. Head lifted he watched an older member amble his way out of one of the back rooms, his shoulder catching the doorframe. He was around a thousand years old from his bandy legs and his left leg favored limp and craggy skin hanging off skinny bones.
Carrying a tray too fucking big for him and overflowing with glasses and cups, Hawk cursed, slipped off his stool to grab it from Krusher’s arthritic tattooed hands before he face planted the floor. “You shouldn’t be carrying this shit, old man.” He spoke for the first time that day. He turned his nasty eyes on a pair of prospects who froze on the spot to be singled out from the out of town killer.
Hawk’s reputation preceded him.
Everyone knew of him and his bloodthirsty skills here.
“You two numbnuts watched him carry this thing and did nothing. Get the fuck over here.”
“I got it, son.” Krusher asserted, trying to straighten his back, offended to even be offered help. Hawk waved him off and kept his glare going until both boys scurried over. “Sorry, sir. I was—”
“Don’t fucking care how you were thumbing your own asses. Grab this.” He shoved it into a chest. The boy grunted but managed to catch it before it crashed to the floor. “Where do you want it, old man?”
“I can do it.”
“Where?” Hawk contended.
The two younger men watching him closely like a frightened game of tennis.
Krusher sighed and rubbed his hands together. “You can take it to the kitchen, boys.”
Hawk went on. “Anything else you need from ‘em?”
“I was about to bring through the case of beers for tonight, but I can—”
“You heard him, shitheads, get to it.” Hawk directed.
Both boys scurried away as fast as they could.
“Why have two dogs and bark yourself.” He said turning to Krusher. “It’s what the fuck prospects are for, old man. You could have broken a hip or some shit like that.”
Krusher frowned in a kicked puppy sort of way, hobbled along the bar and began picking up debris. “I like doing for myself. Keeps me youthful.”
Youthful. Hawk was positive the old man was on first name terms with the crypt keeper.
He’d met Krusher on his first night at the MC after having a short talk with Ty the prez to get himself situated. The old man shuffled up, introduced himself with a shaky hand and proceeded to tell Hawk his whole fucking life story without drawing breath, starting back in the dark ages with Jesus and the dinosaurs.
With a beer and a plate of food in front of him Hawk had done his best to ignore the old timer, but found himself listening idly, because what the hell, not like Hawk could kill the man, he was older than Moses for fucks sake, so he listened, and he learned some stuff. Turns out Krusher was quite the man back in his day, first a sergeant at arms and then moved into the enforcer
role. He’d earned his stripes tenfold, according to Ty. Now retired from any active club business, Krusher was more of a mascot nowadays, having lost his wife he stayed around to help the men.
Hawk found himself unconsciously over the weeks looking out for the old man.
He must have rocks for brains. Caretaker wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
As it went he didn’t mind the old timer. At least, he tolerated him, and his constant rambling more than he did most. He never pushed Hawk to talk, instead Krusher filled in the silence with his stories.
On any given day Hawk was divinely hollow inside and numb to the general out-crying of emotions every person around seemed to go through. Pitiful and exhausting as far as he could tell. A lot of crying from bitches, and the same amount of whining from his own species.
Allergic to every emotion.
For fucks sake he was forced to listen to twenty minutes of Snake’s borderline bitch-fest on a conference call with church last night. No man needed that shit in his life. And it seemed to domino when Arson joined in and then Tag, that prince fucking charming fuck-monkey. Only Reaper kept his trap shut, now he was a guy Hawk could tolerate for the way he ghosted in and out of their lives and barely said a word or stuck his nose in.
When Krusher went to see what the shop boys were up to, Hawk pulled out his cell, scrolled his messages. He answered the one from Lawless first.
Lawless: Whatcha got for me, smiler?
Hawk: Sending email now.
He switched out the app and found what he was looking for to forward to Lawless back in Colorado who’d been busy the last few days hacking into Rex’s expenses. What Hawk found wasn’t much of anything really since the bastard wasn’t big on a paper trail. A few shady businesses Rex invested in, and some intel given by Ty on Rex and his two sons. It wasn’t much, but until the old crone slipped up and bragged something he shouldn’t, Hawk was collecting everything, including watching Rex’s sons who were once in the MC life but no more, having changed their cuts for a car dealership. An excommunicated member wasn’t even allowed back through an MC door so for Rex to show his face around here even once in hopes of worming his way in with another chapter after so long as if his shit still didn’t stink, Hawk thought he was a piece of work.
Add in that Rider’s dad was possibly involved somewhere along the chain with his elder brother’s subterfuge with the Russian Bratva and it wasn’t looking good for the Marinos family.
Just like that he was thinking of Gia again.
Fucks sake. He had a goddamn disease eating out the back of his brain.
Lawless: You know how to thrill me. Gonna dig into this today.
Hawk: I’m tailing son #1 today. He’s shifty as fuck. The other is a pussy. Can’t see him involved with Russians.
Lawless: Apples don’t fall far from the rotten tree. Keep updated.
Hawk snorted. Rotten apples. True enough. His own apple was putrid right to the core, wasn’t it?
Being in the same town as Gia was giving him a major head fuck, to the point five times this week he was sure he heard her voice, only to give himself whiplash in his haste to look. To find out he really was a crazy fucker.
He stayed far from her.
And hungered to crawl near.
Catching her phantom scent everywhere.
What was she doing? Did she have a date with the Clark Kent bastard who carried the briefcase? Maybe she was taking a hot bubble bath.
Fuck, what he’d give to be the one to run her a bath at the end of the day with all that smelly gunk chicks liked to dump in the water and then carry her naked to the bathroom and submerge her weary body into the water and then maybe he’d—grow a new set of balls, since the ones he had between his legs had turned him into a royal, fucking pussy.
Growling his utter self-disgust for the course his thoughts had taken him and how easily they’d gone there, he grabbed at a fist full of blond hair, the pain radiating through his scalp bringing him back to reality. Specs guy could do all that soft shit for her. Hawk wouldn’t know one end of romance from the other if his life depended on it and he figured a woman like the little bit of a thing would want things like that from her man.
Normal things. From a normal man.
Hawk was many things, he didn’t even touch the sides of normal let alone live in the same zip code.
His gut oozing out too much acid.
If he had time to spare he’d use it doing what he always did, digging his neurosis ten deep in a fantasy about his little bit being under him, biting his chest while he——
“Yo, Mad-dog. Good to see you.” Hawk caught the whistle from across the common room. Shifting his sudden gaze, he found Rider’s father looking unswervingly at him, overlooking the greeting from one of the Austin boys.
Hate rocked in the old man’s eyes.
His frame was still sturdy, not fat or withered from age, but creaks and valleys showed on the tanned, craggy face, hair once dark was now peppered with salt. He strode in wearing jeans and a thick black, expensive looking overcoat with biker boots, there was no vest on the man declaring him the VP, not any more. That was on Hawk’s back, no matter he wasn’t in his chapter, he was Rider’s VP, and didn’t that put a slash of spite in the old man’s eyes.
Hawk had Marinos senior’s old job.
No one knew there was history between them. Not even Rider.
Hawk’s jaw crunched until his teeth were in jeopardy of dusting, doing some of his own hating in return.
Stare for stare, it was the old man who looked away first and addressed the sergeant at arms. A thick, portly man. “Haven’t seen you man, what’s happening?”
They clapped hands. Ajax in ear-shot for Hawk to hear everything. He suspected because Ajax wanted it that way from what came next. “Just a drop by.” He informed. “I’m meeting my girl for lunch.”
Fire burst into Hawk’s gut.
Lightheaded, he showed no outward reaction, keeping both arms braced on the bar top, fingers laced tight together.
“Oh, yeah? How is our little Gia doing? She should stop by for the next cookout, we don’t see much of her these days, my old lady was asking after her just this past weekend.”
“My girl is going places, Jace. Don’t want her around you degenerates. She’s doing real good, happy, you know? Won’t be long before I have more grand babies.”
If Hawk could have sustained his own weight he would have stormed out of there and buried himself in a bottle of whiskey. As it was, his legs felt like water.
Gia happy.
Gia with babies.
When he turned his head to the side it was to see the grin on Ajax’s face.
A smirk that said Hawk had lost.
Hawk would always lose.
And Ajax was so fucking thrilled about that.
Yeah, he had history with him and amid his burning heart, and forbidding longing, he’d never truly forgotten that.
Not now. Not ever.
A low-level anger came over his face.
Hawk snapped his gaze away before he choked the old fucker to death where he stood.
Twenty minutes the old bastard stood chatting while Hawk seethed rage.
And how fast it disintegrated into thin air as he heard.
“Ah, there’s my girl now.” Announced Ajax in a booming, pleased voice.
CHAPTER TWO
“It was time to go to the mountain. And the mountain looked good in biker boots.” - Gia
I can do this. He might not even be in there. She coached climbing out of her car, she looked across at her father’s favorite hangout. The motorcycle club was a big, gray sprawling building on one level on the outer limits of Austin Texas. If she looked to the left, she’d see inside the auto repair shop that was four cars deep. Across the courtyard were offices and further still was extensive Texas fields. It was out of the way of everything. Not convenient to meet her dad for lunch, but when she’d made the offer, it was with ulterior motives.
He might not eve
n be inside.
Here she was, highly skilled in her field of psychiatry and she felt as though she was ready to have a fix of her drug of choice.
Gia’s belly was rolling in the same way it did that time she skied in Austria and she faced the highest mountain. Daunting but ultimately one of the greatest experience of her life.
She could do this.
She could walk in there in hopes of seeing Hawk.
She just had to throw caution to the wind and push herself down the mountain.
Strange really. For a woman who’d attended college a whole two years early and spoken in keynote psychiatry seminars just this past summer for some of her peers, those nervous times were nothing in comparison to how she felt taking step after step towards the entryway.
Her heart thumped loudly.
She swallowed repeatedly.
Hell, she’d lived her whole adult life crushing on this man. He’d rejected her in varying ways, even when he didn’t know it and she’d survived. This was nothing, she coached herself. Lifting her purse onto her shoulder, she clutched it like she thought she was about to be strip searched at the airport.
“Hey, look who it is!” She heard in a smoke-rasp boom the moment she was inside. It was months, maybe even a year since she was last at her dad’s MC.
Did she like the self-contained world these men and women made for themselves?
Not really. It was like a world within the real world, she couldn’t fully understand their society mind-set and she’d always known they practiced more towards the illegal way of life.
Her uncle Rex was a great example of that.
If anything, it intimidated her.
The same life her brother embraced, thrived in, scared her.
And she was in love with one of them.
Fucking ironic.
She smiled and waved to Jace, he greeted her in a back-slapping hug that could have ruptured a lung. “Hey, Jace. How are you doing? How’s Josie and your boys?”
“You’re looking real pretty, darlin’ I was just telling your old man here you need to stop by more often. My brood are doing good. Cam got accepted into Stanford for environmental science. Can you believe that shit?” He said with pride brimming out of him.