HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “I want this to last forever,” he said.

  “The ride?” I asked with a grin.

  He shook his head. “This. You and me.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “So,” he said as he raised himself from the seat.

  He removed his right hand from his jacket, lowered himself onto one knee, and raised his hand in front of me. I glanced at his hand.

  Oh God…

  Vince.

  “Sienna, I would be the proudest man on earth if you would agree to marry me,” he said.

  I bit into my lip and nodded my head, incapable of speaking. I mouthed the words “I will” as tears began to well in my eyes.

  I reached for the ring and nodded my head again. I had read about this moment in thousands of books, but nothing could have prepared me for what was happening. He shook his head, reached for my hand, and slipped the ring onto my finger.

  I glanced down at the ring. It was a ridiculously huge round diamond, and the sides of the ring were covered in smaller diamonds, fading into small slivers at the bottom.

  It was breathtaking.

  “I love you,” I said as I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks.

  Vince turned toward the man driving and nodded his head. The man raised his hand to his mouth, pulled the reigns downward, and stopped the carriage. As the carriage came to a halt, the man whistled a shrill whistle loud enough for the entire city to hear.

  “And off to the left, you can see the not so historic Warren Theatre parking garage,” he said with a slight laugh as he pointed toward the structure on the left.

  Vince turned to the left and stared, pulling me in his arms as he did so. Under the streetlights and illuminated enough for me to see I wasn’t the only one crying, he looked peaceful and content.

  I was in heaven.

  A huge boom, followed by another, and yet another caused me to jump in my seat. The top of the parking garage illuminated underneath the fireworks display over our heads. It was just like the Fourth of July, the sky glowing with pinks, reds, blues, and yellows, one burst after the other.

  I smiled as I stared out at the display, only to see the someone’s head clearing the top of the roof and peering down below.

  The unmistakable “Whoop” of Biscuit making a cat-call made me giggle, and I waved at him from the carriage.

  “Congrats, Motherfuckers!” I heard Jackson scream.

  “All of this,” I said as I waved toward the fireworks. “You’re amazing.”

  “No, you’re amazing,” he said.

  “I’m just surprised…” I paused and shook my head.

  The next day was November 9th, the anniversary of our first kiss. I found it odd he didn’t wait until the next day to propose.

  “What?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders and admired my ring. “Nothing.”

  “Surprised I didn’t wait ‘till the 9th?” he asked.

  I nodded my head. He pointed to his watch. “It’s the 9th. It’s been the 9th for some time now.”

  I realized it was past midnight, and the 9th of November.

  A true romantic, the love of my life had just proposed to me on the anniversary of our first kiss. Directly above us the fireworks continued to explode, illuminating the sky entirely. I pointed up at the sky, down at my ring, and shook my head.

  “What?” he asked.

  “This,” I said.

  “What about it?” he asked.

  “This is the money shot,” I said.

  He grinned and pulled me in for a kiss. “It sure is.”

  And it was. The perfect night. The perfect man. The perfect romantic moment. If our lives were ever written into a book, it would be the perfect…

  Money shot.

  Epilogue

  AXTON BISHOP

  The fellas in my club weren’t simply friends, brothers, or people who I expected to have my back when times were tough. Each and every one of them was a part of a machine. In the absence of one man, the machine would be incomplete. In the absence of some men, the machine would break down.

  It took time, but Vince had become a critical component in the machine. Without him there was no doubt in my mind, the machine would cease to exist.

  I held my head high and walked as straight as possible. It was something I had never imagined I would have to do, but I agreed to do so as a matter of respect. Well, that and I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it with such devotion.

  The slight tug on my right arm reminded me of my commitment. I blinked my eyes, lowered my chin, and waited.

  He shifted his eyes upward and gazed at me blankly. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man on this beautiful day?”

  “I do. Axton Bishop,” I responded with a proud nod.

  “And, Mr. Bishop, do I have your blessing to move forward with this ceremony of marriage?” he asked.

  I lowered my chin and smiled. “Yes, Sir. You do.”

  Sienna pinched my arm.

  You little shit.

  The pastor motioned for her to come forward. I stepped aside, turned and walked to the open seat beside Avery and sat down.

  It seemed strange for me to be dressed in a tuxedo for a biker wedding, but I should have known Vince wouldn’t do anything traditional to the one percenter. He was a romantic at heart, and I admired him for it.

  The pastor shifted his eyes throughout the crowd. The entire yard was decorated and filled with chairs, a stage, band, and rented dance floor. Vince’s mother’s home was perfect for the wedding, and she sure seemed excited to plan the event entirely; no expense had been spared.

  “Marriage is a solemn institution to be held in honor by all, it is the cornerstone of the family and of the community. It requires of those who undertake it a complete and unreserved giving of one's self. It is not to be entered into lightly, as marriage is a sincere and mutual commitment to love one another,” he said.

  He turned and exchanged glances at Vince and Sienna. “This commitment symbolizes the intimate sharing of two lives and still enhances the individuality of each of you.”

  “Will rings be exchanged as a symbol of this union in marriage?”

  Vince nodded his head and motioned toward the ring bearer. Biscuit grinned, raised the silk pillow, and waited as Vince removed the rings and handed them to the pastor.

  “A ring is a circle with no beginning and no end. Love without end is what we hope to achieve in marriage. As this ring is placed upon your fingers remember that it is your love for one another that has brought you here, and it is that love that will guide you down the pathways of your lives.”

  The pastor turned toward Vince and nodded his head.

  Vince gazed into Sienna’s eyes and held the ring in his hand. “I promise to you to have all the patience required to comfort you through the life we share and as we grow and learn to love one another. I promise to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and understanding of all you may need, desire, or require of me. Above all, I promise to love you today and every day following no less than the previous, and to never anger beyond what words cannot repair.”

  The pastor nodded his head.

  Vince slipped the ring on Sienna’s finger.

  The pastor turned to face Sienna.

  She grinned, reached for the ring, and held it between her fingers. “I promise to be understanding of your needs, accepting of your shortcomings, and open to your requests of me. I promise to be loving of you now, tomorrow, and for every day we share, and to place my love for you above all other needs. Above all, I promise when you do anger, to be patient, and allow time to pass and wounds to heal, for man is imperfect, and the world knows this to be fact.”

  The pastor nodded his head.

  Sienna placed the ring on Vince’s finger.

  “Repeat after me,” he said. “With this ring I make this vow to you before God, before witness, and before my brothers.”

  They each repeated the vow.

  “Stephen Vincent Ames, do you t
ake this woman to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, remaining faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

  “Yes, Sir. I do,” Vince said.

  “Sienna Ghee Boyco, do you take this man to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, remaining faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

  “I certainly do,” Sienna responded.

  The pastor glanced at each of them and bowed his head slightly. “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  They kissed a kiss I damned sure wouldn’t have kissed at my wedding. After a few get a room remarks were shouted by various Sinners, they separated and turned to face the crowd.

  I couldn’t have been more proud of one of my boys and his new wife. I turned toward Avery, smiled, and kissed her.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you,” she responded.

  Avery looked remarkable in her dress. She made me proud in what she had done with Jackson, work, life, and finally making amends with her parents. One day I would make her my wife, I was sure of it. When the day came, I would stand proud before my brothers and take the vow with honor and respect.

  As the evening turned into night, and the alcohol became part of the occasion, the DJ tapped his finger on the microphone and got everyone’s attention.

  “I’d like to make an announcement,” he said. “It’s time for the father-daughter dance. The song chosen was by the daughter, and I want to make sure everyone in attendance is ready. Axton?”

  He motioned toward me with his free hand.

  Oh shit, that’s my cue.

  It was the least I could do for a member of my family whose father was deceased. Participating in the dance was a matter of respect.

  I turned to the side and reached for Sienna’s hand, fully expecting a slow dance. She raised her hand in the air and pulled it away from me as she shook her head. When she kicked her shoes to the side, I realized I might be in trouble.

  I wrinkled my brow and stared.

  Her mouth curled into a smirk as she turned her head and shouted over her shoulder at the DJ.

  “Hit it,” she said with a nod.

  The music started and the floor began to shake. It wasn’t what I expected, but I had given my word I’d do the dance with her. Without hesitation, I grabbed the lapels of my jacket, pulled it off, and tossed it to Anita. I couldn’t wear a jacket and dance to the song she’d chosen, there was no way.

  I glanced around the dance floor. Every person in attendance had their eyes on me.

  And as “Christmas in Hollis,” by Run DMC played, I came to realize although we were all Selected Sinners, we were all different.

  But for that moment, Sienna and I were exactly the same.

  And I danced like it was the last time I would ever have a chance.

  Dedication

  Alec Jacob is a fictitious character, but there are many like him on earth. They are sheep dogs. They protect the sheep of this earth from the wolves who attempt to prey on them. Without the sheep dog, the sheep would certainly perish, one by one, until the flock is gone. The sheep dog does what he does not for pay, or even recognition, but because he was born a sheep dog.

  Before you fall asleep, say a prayer for the sheep dog who allows you to relax into the state of slumber without worry, without fear, and without shedding a drop of blood. When you sleep, sleep soundly and without reservation.

  Because the sheep dog is out there. Waiting.

  For a wolf to make his move.

  To the protectors. The sheep dogs.

  This one is for you.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  Hard Corps 1st Edition Copyright © 2016 by Scott Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at designconceptswichita@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover design by Jessica: www.JessicaHildrethDesigns.com

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  Prologue

  Unconditional love was something I deeply desired, but until I met Alec Jacob I wasn’t sure actually existed. After meeting him and experiencing his ability to love first hand, I knew I could never live without him.

  He was more kind than any man I had ever met, and as much as I expected his kindness to eventually diminish, it never did. The few who were foolish enough to cross him were always met with a warning, and if they chose not to heed it, were dealt with accordingly.

  A predictable man in many ways and quite misunderstood in others, he was somewhat of an enigma. As much as we were in love and as close as we had become, I still found him to be the most intriguing individual I had ever encountered or expected I ever would encounter.

  The first day I saw him ride up on his motorcycle I was attracted to him, but any woman would have been. His body was perfectly proportioned and his face was constructed in a way that any female would be drawn to him, but it was his mysterious eyes that provided a clear warning to proceed with caution.

  And I did just that.

  The more I learned about him, the more attracted to him I became. As handsome as he was, and as much as his chiseled torso made my mouth water, it was who Alec Jacob was that made him more attractive to me than any other man on earth.

  He accepted me for who I was, never asked me to change one thing, and assured me he would always protect me from all of what was evil on this earth.

  And the earth was filled with evil, there was no doubt in my mind of that.

  Alec was a war hero and a highly decorated Marine. I was well aware not only that he had killed, but that he had killed many. Not all, as much as I hated to admit it, being a casualty of the war he fought in.

  But as capable as he was of administering what he believed to be justice upon those he deemed to be the deserving recipients, he was not an evil man.

  He was kind, he was caring, and he was loving.

  And he was mine.

  Chapter Two Hundred Thirty-Nine

  Summer 2003, Al-Anbar Province, Iraq

  The days seemed to last forever and as much as I hoped I might be able to defend my life and the lives of the three men I was in charge of, I had no expectation all of us would make it home alive. My belief was that prior to the war ending, at least one of us would be shipped back to the states in a casket with a flag neatly draped over the top.

  Deep in my mind, a picture was embedded. Taken from the tail end of a C-130 into the cargo area, the image was haunting. The sight itself, one coffin neatly positioned perfectly beside the other – each with an American flag covering the casket – was one of dignity, selflessness, sacrifice, and freedom. I fully realized the image should not have troubled me in the manner it did, but it tormented me nonetheless. As much as I was willing to fight, I didn’t want to be shipped home in a box or a bag.

  There weren’t many assurances during war, but one remained true throughout all wars ever fought.

  Men died.

  Damned good men.

  Truly believing any other option was possible, at least while in combat, was unrealistic.

  I steadied my M4, glanced in Grayson’s direction, and gave a slight nod of my head.

  He kicked t
he door right beside the makeshift lock. So many of the homes didn’t appear to be houses in a conventional sense. What seemed to be a commercial building may have an entire family living inside, most sleeping on a thin mat that had been tossed on a dirt floor. Other identical buildings may have half a dozen insurgents hiding inside, prepared to kill whoever entered without any warning whatsoever. Knowing what was on the other side of the door prior to entering was close to, if not totally, impossible.

  Me again.

  Keep my men safe.

  The wooden door swung open with a bang, revealing what appeared to be sleeping quarters for six or more people. I entered first, with the other three Marines immediately following me. As my eyes darted around the room, a tingling sensation ran along my spine. Although there was no one visible in the room, there was something about it I didn’t like. With the buttstock of the M4 against my right shoulder and my finger indexed along the side of the trigger guard, I quickly scanned the room for any signs of life. The floor was covered with bedrolls, blankets, clothes, and supplies, but there appeared to be no munitions or occupants.

  The stucco-like inner structure of the building was cracked, damaged, and dirty. The blankets, positioned around the perimeter of the open room, were the only sign of life. Even seeing everything the room had to offer, it was unclear if it was an insurgent hideout or the home of a local family. As I stood, staring at the pile of dirty bedding, the smell of stale sweat filled my nostrils, providing only an indication of the space once being occupied, but nothing more.

  I felt like spraying the piles of blankets with a few dozen rounds from my weapon, making certain no one stood from the piles of rubble and shot me or one of my fellow Marines, but I knew better than to do so. If I did, there would undoubtedly be women and children sleeping under them, and I would find myself being court-martialed for the murder of civilians. As Cunningham was turning toward the door, mumbling something about yet another lost opportunity to cleanse the world of all living al-Qaeda, I noticed one of the blankets move slightly. I raised my left hand in the air and clenched my fist as I lowered the barrel of my weapon toward the movement.