by R. J. Lewis
This moment.
This moment meant everything to me.
“Breathe, Tyler,” he then told me, his voice like silk and filled with warmth. “Breathe with me.”
He brought me closer to him, resting my head against his chest. With his heart beating in my ear, I breathed along with him, and let the air out at the same time. I repeated the action, my eyes running along his biceps as I went, idly taking in his tattoos and thick scars that ran along so many parts of his body.
I was seeking safety in the arms of a beast. He’d murdered ruthlessly, yet doted on me with a level of compassion you wouldn’t expect from that kind of evil.
There were two men in Hawke, and despite the terror I felt, my heart still swelled because I wanted both of them.
I’d always want both of them.
After I’d calmed down, my eyelids had gone heavy. Hawke had lulled me into half-consciousness. He carried me out of the shower, drying us both with a towel. Then he laid me down on the bed and dressed me.
I was barely awake by the time he finished.
I felt his hands over my face, gently caressing my cheek while he said, “Sleep, baby. You need it.”
ten
Hawke
No matter how hard he tried, Hawke was always being forced back to the club. There was no escape. He was doomed to be the ghost president, taking care of Hector’s messes and somehow keeping out of club affairs. Fucking hell, this whole night could have been prevented. How could you not do a body search of outsiders coming through the clubhouse? If they fucking had, Yuri’s gun would have been found and that entire situation would not have escalated.
Though Hawke couldn’t deny he was glad the seedy shit was out of the picture. Killing that entitled punk ass was easy. Yuri always had been a loose cannon. The fucker had been impulsive for years, but Hawke would have preferred quietly taking care of him in some part of the bush somewhere. Not in front of the club and Tyler.
Fucking Tyler.
After he dressed and left her on the bed, Hawke paced the hallway outside her room. No, his room. That little wench had hijacked it. Turned it into her temple. Once upon a time the walls had been pink. Fucking pink. Like…really rosy pink. And there’d been half-naked posters of beta guys on his wall with their airbrushed abs on display. He couldn’t believe she’d brought her teenage shit to the clubhouse, among murderers and drug dealers. And not one of the bastards downstairs had discouraged her from doing it either. They just welcomed Tyler in with open arms, like, “hey, Tyler, yeah, baby girl, come on in and sidestep the bodies and bags of cash on your way inside the clubhouse of horrors” – the fucking idiots.
But the walls weren’t pink anymore, thank every holy fuck in the world. They were grey. The curtains didn’t have polka dots on them; they were plain and boring. She didn’t have any more CDs of wailing male singers – you know, the ones with the cheap looking tattoos, pussy-black eyeliner and gelled up conditioned hair – singing about how depressed their pampered lives were. Her dresser was now covered in make-up, brushes in all shapes and sizes, and – to his horror – a supply of birth control pills.
Tyler had evolved and it was a miracle. She still dressed girly as fuck in her pink shit, and don’t even get him started on those sexy as fuck pampered nails, but she was…sharper looking and more aware. She was surer about herself than she had been a year ago. He saw it in the way she carried herself. She knew she was beautiful, but she never used it like a weapon. He really liked that. It was refreshing. Too many fake bitches roamed these rooms, bleeding every poor fucker dry – and not just of cum, but money too.
Hawke had wanted her to be independent. He’d hoped for it. Hell, he imagined her growing out of the clubhouse, finding some white collar douche to shack up with, and then settling down in the suburbs with two point five kids and a tiny little dog. But…no, that wasn’t the case. Instead, she was working at Jesse’s auto shop as an apprentice – who in the fuck saw that coming? – and she was getting closer to the guys every day.
He thought this crazy obsession to be part of the club would fade. He thought she’d stop staring at him in that cat-in-heat kind of way.
But Tyler still looked at Hawke with that longing so deep he could feel it in his bones. He saw it every time he came around, and he saw it when he stepped into the bar and his eyes caught hers. She’d immediately straightened herself, suddenly conscious of the way she looked. It mattered to her that he liked what he saw, and he wasn’t going to lie to himself – he fucking loved what he saw.
He’d wrapped his arms around her naked. Felt the curves of her body as she shook in his grip. She was so fucking gentle. So beautiful and sweet. He couldn’t erase the grating feeling of want in his bones, or the way she nestled into him, needing him the way nobody else ever had.
His hopes for her were dashed. That fucking girl was here to stay, and she was proving it to him day by day, entrenching herself deep in club affairs. She was laughing at him, wasn’t she? Every fucking inch of her called out to him. Her tits, her legs, the dark little hairs between her silky thighs, her slender back – and that fucking tattoo – it all started to call out to him.
I’ve grown up. She shouted at him with her eyes. I’ve grown up and you promised me more.
*
It was midnight when the Russian fucks sobered up and picked up Yuri from the floor and carried him out of the bar. He was in a body bag, because the Russians conveniently had a spare one of them lying around.
“Can you believe this shit?” Jesse had muttered when he first saw them unrolling the damn thing. “They’ve got a body bag, man.”
“You can’t seriously be surprised,” Hector replied back.
“Just a little bit, Hector, because we don’t have that shit in our back pocket, and I’m starting to wonder if we should. I mean, where do you casually buy a body bag from? Is there a wholesaler around? This shit needs looking into.”
The Russians backed their car to the entrance of the bar. It was pitch black when they stepped out and quickly threw the body in the opened trunk. When they returned to clean up the mess, Hawke was already there, standing inches away from the puddle of blood, tapping the face of his watch to hurry them the fuck up.
“Could have been done an hour ago,” he snapped at them. “Get a move on.”
They did. Because the Russian fucks also had a case full of cleaning supplies.
“What in the fuck is this?” Jesse hissed at Hector. “They’re packing bleach too, man.”
“We always travel prepared,” one of them explained after he overheard him. “Too much blood. Too many bodies. Once we cleaned with toilet paper because it was all we had.”
The others chuckled, like it was a fond memory between them. Yeah, ha-ha, we butchered a man and cleaned the crime scene with toilet paper, ha-ha. Fucking imbeciles. Hawke took a deep breath so he wouldn’t fucking lose it at them.
Gus stood by the entrance door, carrying a shotgun in one hand as he watched them carefully. They cleaned quickly and efficiently. The fuckers never dared make eye contact with Hawke once as they scrubbed and polished the floor. The gravity of the situation weighed on them hard, and they were going to return to an inevitable shit storm with Abram – the last thing they needed was Hawke to explode.
When they finished, Hawke looked to Gus, and Gus inspected the scene before he okayed it. The second he had approved, the Russians rushed out of the bar and into their car and sped out of there, practically doing a burnout as they turned the corner of the parking lot and disappeared.
Jesse walked over the space Yuri died in, looking down at his feet at every step he took. Looking chuffed, he shook his head. “Drunks did a good job, Hawke. I think this is the cleanest spot in the bar.”
Hawke just stared at him, not saying a word. The shit that came out of this guy’s mouth sometimes…Fucking hell.
Hector was already lighting up a cigarette and joining Jesse on the walk-on-the-spot-the-sick-fuck-died-in. Then, acting li
ke nothing happened and they hadn’t fucked up so bad, they spoke about pussy, and wanting pussy, and nothing else but pussy.
“You want pussy, Hawke?” Jesse asked him with a grin, stopping. “Still some bitches around, hey? We can salvage the night. Let’s smash ‘em.”
Hawke exhaled deeply and rubbed at his face. His fingers tingled with the urge to beat the fucking idiots for bringing this shit to the club, but Hawke knew how important it was to keep his cool. Working for a kingpin like Marcus Borden taught him that.
“Hawke?” Jesse pressed, still staring at him.
Hawke glowered at him. “You think this is funny, Jesse?”
Jesse’s smile faded. “No –”
“I killed a man under our roof,” Hawke interrupted, his calm voice laced with an edge. “I shed blood in the clubhouse. Think about that before you think about your precious pussy.”
Jesse just stared at him with this blank expression. Holy fuck, this club had lost a lot of IQ since he left. He’d never seen the men so fucking wayward. There was no structure within the walls. None of them were walking the line, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the police (the clean kind) came knocking. And if it wasn’t the police, it was an enemy.
Just one enemy would be enough to remove the Warlords from the face of the earth forever.
Jesse turned away from Hawke. “Hawke’s right. I uh…I better call it a night, brothers. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
When he disappeared, Hector took a seat at the bar and Hawke gestured Gus over with a wave of his hand. Gus moved to him immediately, settling his shotgun down on the top of the bar as he went.
“We need to bury this,” Hawke told him sternly. “No one is ever to talk about this night again, unless we’re in a club meeting.”
Gus nodded adamantly. “I agree.”
“No slipups, either. I want the workers and the girls questioned. We have no room for mistakes.”
“You got it.”
Hawke gritted his teeth as he continued to hold back his anger. “And there needs to be something done about this club letting anyone in without getting searched, Gus. This ain’t a joke. This was a major fuck up. We used to have conditions. We never let just anyone come walkin’ in.”
Gus frowned. “Everyone’s been relaxed. We’ve been at peace for some years now.”
“Yeah, and everybody’s forgotten what it’s like to be at war, and that’s the problem. Nobody here is prepared.”
Gus looked over his shoulder and at Hector whose back was turned to them. He was lazily drinking a beer, keeping a distance from Hawke. Gus let out a long sigh, and Hawke could hear well and clear what the old man wasn’t saying.
The guys loved him, and he was useful when he knew what to do, but Hector fucking sucked at being president.
“I’ll talk to him,” Gus promised, turning back to Hawke. “We’ll figure something out, don’t you worry. I’m not wearing this patch just to look good. You know I can handle it if he’s on board with what I have to offer.”
Hawke exhaled slowly as he scanned the bar, thinking of how packed it had been only hours ago. At least he’d cleared it before he dealt with Yuri. He thought of the sick bastard’s demands, thought of Gus telling him without words that Hector was failing hard at being president, and then he thought of Tyler and…
He rubbed at his face again, exasperated by it all. “What’s going on with Tyler?” he then asked, looking back at Gus intently. “I’m not getting it. Is she sticking around for a reason?”
Gus couldn’t hold back the small smile on his lips. “She’s…part of this, Hawke.”
“Part of what?”
“The club. We’ve had her for years, you’ve known that. We love her. She reminds us of her old man, and I fucking miss that dick’s face.”
Hawke clenched his jaw. “Gus, don’t get all emotional on me, alright? Tyler is a problem.”
Gus widened his eyes. “A problem? No fucking way, Hawke. She has not created one bit of drama. The goddamn barmaid causes more drama, believe me. Tyler lives and breathes our life. She is loyal and she is strong. Christ, she is hacking this life better than most wives in here.”
“And what about after tonight?”
“Well, I don’t fucking know. You took her up, what was she like?”
“Shaken.”
“Shaken like broken?”
Hawke hesitated, thinking of how she acted around him. By the end she’d appeared…lustful. “No, not broken.”
Gus shrugged. “Then she’ll be fine, and I know for certain she won’t open her mouth…”
Gus rambled on about Tyler like he was part of her fucking fan club. Hawke drowned him out and glanced at Hector, at the way he circled the bottle in his hand and stared glumly at the counter. He was beating himself up about his failure, which meant he was going to find someone to slide his dick into to forget.
Some things never change.
“And anyway, Jesse will keep an eye on her when she gets to work and we’ll know if she’s alright,” Gus finished.
Hawke stiffened and stared at Gus seriously, the image of those birth control pills flashing before his eyes. “Has she been with Jesse?”
“What?”
Hawke pointed at the entrance door. “I walked into the bar, and when I looked around the place Jesse was staring at her, and not staring at her decently, you feeling me?”
Gus chuckled, making light of the situation. “They’re good friends.”
“How good exactly?”
“Well, he wouldn’t say no to her, if we’re going to be honest.”
“What about her?” Hawke pressed, hating how demanding he sounded, but he needed to know, especially as her naked body swirled in his mind. “Has she said no?”
Gus gave him a strange look. “She’s rejected Jesse already. Many times, actually. She doesn’t want him and…you already know that.”
“So it’s just been that one guy?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, the high school pencil-dick jock. Don’t get me started about him.”
“Why?”
“The slimy little fuck bragged about bagging her after prom night. Said it was going to buy him a first class ticket into the Warlords.”
“I already know about that. I had you guys take care of that.”
“Yeah, but he still goes on about it.”
Hawke’s face darkened. “I thought you beat his ass until it was black and blue.”
“I did. Some people don’t learn, you know that.”
“He still work at that gas station?”
“Yep.”
Hawke sighed. “This town is fucked up. This club is fucked up. This situation with Yuri and the fucking gang demanding more shipments is fucked up.”
“You know Abram better than me. Is he going to get pissed?”
“Yuri was his moronic cousin that he felt responsible for. Abram is going to be livid.”
Because Abram was worse than Yuri. He wasn’t an obvious lunatic like Yuri, but fuck, that man was sadistic in ways even Hawke shuddered to think. He exacted revenge with patience and struck when you least expected it. If you were on his shit list, chances were you were going to end up stuffed in a barrel and thrown in some ditch.
Gus was concerned as he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Is he crazy enough to go to war?”
“Yeah,” Hawke said steadfastly. “He is, which is why this needs mending as soon as fucking possible.”
“Fuck.” Gus went quiet, mulling it over. “We didn’t have a goddamn choice, though. He was gonna shoot Tyler.”
“That’s what we tell him.”
Gus sighed. “Look, Hawke, I don’t want you worrying about this shit. You got enough on your plate as it is working for Borden and all that. I mean, that guy is fucking crazy enough as it is. Just…go back to the city and forget all this. Hector and I will take care of Abram. We’ll explain Yuri’s erratic behavior. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to him.”
&nb
sp; “This was my doing,” Hawke replied solemnly. “I killed Yuri. I’ll fix it.”
Gus took a step closer to Hawke and muttered, “We’ll fix it together. I’m not going to risk you getting found out here with you ridin’ around on your own, Hawke. Most people in town won’t open their mouths because of what we do around here to help out, but…it takes just one to fuck us over.”
It wasn’t just fear that kept the residents quiet. It was what the club did in town. They helped out whenever they could. Sometimes families came around asking for help with medical bills, rent, anything they were short on. The club wasn’t all bad. In fact, once upon a time they were clean, until Hawke’s old man Red became greedy, wanting the taste of the better life. He dabbled in side incomes, and then he got even more hungry, tackling on distribution where the money really was. Red had decided it was better to have dirty money than be in squalor and watch another gang come strolling in town to fuck things up. At least the town had the Warlords, who were a lot more decent than the others.
Better the devil you know, or so the saying went.
The only member that didn’t morally agree with it had been Tyler’s old man Dennis, but at the time there had been nothing he could do about it. Plus, he grew to love the attention. Dennis used to love the girls and couldn’t keep it in his pants. Power did things to men. It made them overlook the moral bullshit just so they could enjoy the high of the present. And the high involved a bag of coke and a blowjob from some big lipped beauty that would never have dared blink an eye at Dennis if it weren’t for that patch.
Women were powerful in their own right when they knew how to work an easy man. And Dennis had been a very easy man.
With a pat on the back, Gus said, “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
He left Hawke standing there and returned to his room. Hector was still drinking his sorrows away feet from him, and Hawke sensed the aggression in him without having to look at his face to confirm it.