Craving Hawk

by Nicole Jacquelyn

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, stuffing her face into my neck. “You’re back.”

  I met the lawyer’s eyes over her shoulder. “My wife,” I told him.

  “I guessed that,” he replied dryly.

  I nodded and started toward the clubhouse, wrapping my arm under Heather’s ass to support her. “Missed me, huh?” I teased, smiling when her arms tightened. “Told you I’d be out.”

  “Yeah, but for how long?” she asked darkly, not lifting her head.

  “Not long if I woulda been stuck with that idiot I had before,” I answered, leading the lawyer into the clubhouse. “But things are lookin’ up.”

  “I’m pissed at you,” she said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m really angry.”

  I laughed and tried to turn it into a cough but I was pretty sure I hadn’t fooled her.

  “You gotta get down, baby,” I murmured as I saw my dad, Dragon and Poet seated at a table in the middle of the room. “We got business to take care of.”

  Heather nodded, then pulled away from my neck, leaning back until we were nose to nose. “You haven’t even kissed me,” she said huskily, her eyes meeting mine.

  “Didn’t give me a chance to,” I reminded her, reaching up to push her hair out of her face. “Come ’ere.”

  Her lips barely met mine when the urge to walk out of the room and find a little privacy hit me. I hadn’t seen her in days and she’d been freaking out while I’d been gone and there’d been no way for me to help her. Her hands were shaking when she pressed them against the sides of my face and I couldn’t help the groan that seemed to come up from my chest.

  I stood there in the middle of the room, kissing the hell out of my wife until my dad finally barked my name in annoyance.

  “Yeah,” I answered after I’d torn my mouth away. “I’m comin’.”

  “Not yet,” Heather whispered in my ear as she let her legs fall from around my waist. “But you sure as hell will be.”

  The lawyer I’d forgotten was there let out a little laugh and I watched her cheeks redden.

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she said. She glanced at him and then did a double take with wide eyes.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” he said calmly, ignoring the way she was staring.

  “Knock it off,” I ordered as I gripped her hand and pulled her toward the guys waiting for us.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she argued under her breath.

  “Carter Lincoln,” I said, introducing him to the table. “This is Dragon, Grease and Poet.”

  “Patrick,” Poet said with a nod. “We spoke on the phone.”

  “Right,” Lincoln said, reaching out to shake his hand.

  I pulled a couple of chairs over to the table and motioned for Lincoln to sit, he sat down and I pulled Heather onto my lap, making him raise one eyebrow.

  “Haven’t seen her in days,” I told him, ignoring the face he was making.

  He nodded and opened his briefcase, pulling out the stack of notes he’d made earlier at the courthouse.

  “You think you can get this thrown out?” my dad asked, leaning forward to set his elbows on the table.

  “Easily,” Lincoln answered. Then he smiled and I thought Heather was going to fall off my damn lap.

  * * *

  “You’re not goin’ to any more meetings with the suit,” I bitched later that night as Heather made dinner. “If you can’t keep your damn tongue inside your mouth.”

  “Oh, whatever,” she replied, throwing a carrot at me. “I wasn’t that bad.”

  “Bullshit. I thought you were gonna pass out when he took his fuckin’ jacket off.”

  “With good reason. Did you see that guy? He looks like a fucking model.”

  “Jesus,” I muttered, pulling on a pair of boxers.

  “Aw, someone’s jealous,” she sang, chuckling when she saw the scowl on my face.

  “You wanna ogle somethin’ I got somethin’ for ya,” I replied, reaching down to grab my junk.

  “Later,” she said with a laugh. “I’m still walking funny from earlier.”

  “Not my fault you jumped me the minute we walked in the door,” I said as I came in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.

  “Oh, please, like it wasn’t a mutual jumping.”

  “Baby, your hand was down my pants before I’d closed the door,” I teased, kissing her bare shoulder. “Pretty sure that was all you.”

  “I bent myself over the counter and pulled my own hair?”

  “Nah, you were too busy moaning for me to give it to you harder,” I joked, making her elbow me in the side.

  “I’m just glad to be home,” she murmured, leaning back against me. “I kept waking up thinking I was going to fall off your old bed.”

  “You slept on the bunk bed?” I asked, reaching around her to grab the plates she’d just filled up.

  “Yeah.” She grabbed a couple of sodas and followed me to the bed. “Your mom hung out for a while the first night, but after that I was on my own.”

  “They were cool about it, though, right?”

  “I got into it with your dad,” she said with a snort. “But I’m pretty sure I came out the victor.”

  “Sure ya did,” I replied with a grin.

  “Did you know Molly calls him Asa?”

  “Yep.”

  “He doesn’t let me call him Asa.”

  “I don’t call him Asa either, if that helps,” I mumbled, dodging when she threw a piece of food at me.

  “Just so you know, if you go to prison I’m not moving in with them,” she joked. I started to laugh, but when I looked up, her face had lost any trace of amusement. “You better not go to jail,” she whispered through her teeth. “I’m going to be super pissed if you do.”

  “I’m not going to jail,” I said, setting my plate down on the nightstand. “Lincoln’s good. You should have seen this morning in court.”

  “I couldn’t,” she ground out. “He told us we couldn’t come.”

  “He knows what he’s doin’,” I promised, pulling her between my legs. “If he didn’t want you guys there, it’s for a reason.”

  “I didn’t think it would get this far,” she said, setting her plate down so she could turn to face me. “I mean, I know we planned for it, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

  “Ah, I knew you married me for my pretty face,” I teased, resting my hands on her hips as she knelt in front of me.

  “I married you because it made sense,” she replied quietly, staring at my throat. “Because I wanted to protect you just in case.”

  “You’re doin’ that,” I said, squeezing her hips. “You’re doin’ exactly what I need ya to.”

  “I need to call those cops back.” She sighed. “And they’re going to want to ask me questions.”

  “You don’t know anything, baby,” I reassured her. “Haven’t told you anything for a reason.”

  “But I know enough,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “I know enough to make them go looking. Even if I say nothing, I’m afraid they’re going to see something on my face or the way I move my hands or something.”

  “These are small town detectives, Heather,” I replied. “This isn’t Law and Order.”

  I sat there watching her freak herself out more and more, and had an idea.

  “Get up,” I ordered, pushing her back. “Get dressed.”

  “What?” She watched me in confusion as I pulled my jeans on.

  “Come on, get up.” I threw a shirt on and grabbed my phone, sending out a few text messages as she pulled some clothes on. “Grab a sweatshirt,” I said. “We’re taking the bike.”

  Twenty minutes later we were pulling back into the clubhouse. When I turned off the bike, she groaned and pinched my side.

  “We just left this place,” she grumbled as she climbed off behind me.

  “Come on,” I said, pulling her along.


  I nodded to Poet who seemed to always be sitting at the bar, and smiled at Amy who was sitting next to him. Then I searched the room. My dad and Uncle Casper were sitting at a table talking, but looked up when I pulled Heather toward them.

  “Hey, thanks for comin’,” I said, pulling out a chair for Heather. “Sit, babe.”

  “Poker night?” Heather asked sarcastically. “I prefer Go-Fish, but I’m decent at poker.”

  “They’re going to question you,” I said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Both of ’em got lots of experience—” I glared at Casper when he laughed. “They can get ya ready, make ya less nervous.”

  “This is stupid,” Heather mumbled.

  “It’s actually not a bad idea,” my dad replied. “Now go away, Tommy.”

  “What?” I looked up in surprise.

  “She won’t be nervous if you’re standin’ over her like that. Waste of time to be askin’ her questions if she’s not shittin’ her pants.”

  “You have such an awesome way with words,” Heather said dryly. Then she tipped her head back to look at me. “Go. He’s right.”

  “Alright.” I searched her face, making sure she was okay with it, then walked to the bar and planted my ass on a bar stool next to Poet.

  “Good idea,” he said, nodding toward the group across the room.

  “She was freakin’ herself out,” I replied, shaking my head. “Detectives already called her and she’s been puttin’ off callin’ ’em back.”

  “They’ll find a way to her eventually. Might as well get it over with before she pisses them off,” Amy said, handing me a cup of coffee. “You want something stronger?”

  “Coffee’s good,” I answered. “Thanks, Amy.”

  I looked over my shoulder and watched as Heather crossed her arms over her chest, then huffed and dropped them back to her sides. She sure as hell didn’t look nervous yet.

  “Poor timing for all of this,” Poet said, twisting his glass of whiskey around and around. “Suppose it’s never good timing, though, eh?”

  “You know something I don’t, old man?” I asked, knowing the answer before I’d even said it. Of course he knew more than I did. The man knew fucking everything. I watched his face carefully, but he didn’t give anything away.

  “All in good time,” he said after a moment.

  “Bullshit,” I muttered, turning to look at Heather again.

  Her shoulders were tight, and her hands were curled into fists in her lap as Casper leaned forward to say something I couldn’t hear. Poet’s hand came down on my shoulder just as I was about to rise.

  “They ain’t gonna hurt her,” he reminded me. “You set it up, now let it play out.”

  I nodded, but kept my eyes on Heather. She shook her head once then huffed in frustration.

  “The door was open,” a voice called from the doorway, catching my attention.

  “Come on in,” I said, not bothering to stand up.

  Lincoln walked across the room and smiled as his eyes met Amy’s. “You must be Nix’s mom,” he said kindly. “He looks like you.”

  Poet snorted.

  “No, he doesn’t,” Amy replied, reaching across the bar to shake Lincoln’s hand. “But thank you anyway.”

  “Bone structure, mannerisms… your coloring’s different but the way you carry yourself is pretty similar,” he said as he held her hand.

  “You seem to know my son pretty well,” she murmured, glancing at Poet.

  “You could say that,” Lincoln replied. He turned to me. “Detectives want to question your wife?”

  “Called her a couple days before the wedding and left a message. She hasn’t called ’em back.”

  “Well, she should do that tomorrow morning,” he said, sitting down on the barstool next to me. “The longer she puts it off, the worse it’ll look, and you don’t want them to change the invitation to an order.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” I muttered.

  “What are they doing?” he asked, watching as Heather threw her arms up in the air just as my dad leaned down and pointed in her face.

  “The crucible,” Poet said with a snicker.

  “She was freakin’ out about answering questions, so they’re gettin’ her ready,” I replied.

  “It’s a good idea,” he said and then looked at me. “But she doesn’t need it.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be going with her to answer their questions,” he said simply. “As her attorney I’ll be able to field most of their questions myself, and I don’t need to practice.”

  Amy laughed evilly behind us. “I’m baking Nix a cake for this one.”

  “Do you want to go save her, or should I?” Lincoln asked in amusement as my dad and uncle played some fucked up version of good-cop-bad-cop and Heather flipped them off behind her back.

  “I better,” I replied, sliding off my stool. “If she sees you, she’ll either start drooling or fuckin’ pass out.”

  Lincoln laughed as I crossed the room.

  * * *

  Early the next morning I was up and dressed before Heather had even stirred. After taking time off the week before I needed to get into the garage and finish the cars I’d been working on. Customers didn’t give a fuck if their mechanic got married; they just wanted their ride back when we said it’d be ready.

  “I’m leavin’,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss Heather’s shoulder.

  “It’s too early,” she groaned, reaching up to grab me like she was going to pull me back into bed. The offer was tempting as fuck.

  “Lincoln’s gonna meet you at the clubhouse at eleven,” I reminded her, laughing as her arms fell back onto the bed dramatically. “You don’t have to get outta bed for a few more hours.”

  “Thank God,” she mumbled, rolling over and pulling the blankets over her head.

  I smiled and grabbed my keys off the nightstand and headed out.

  Her nerves seemed to have gotten better since the day before, but mine hadn’t. I knew the detectives would question her differently than they had me. She wasn’t suspected of anything, but I still hated the idea of it. They’d try to catch her in a lie. It was the nature of the beast, and she didn’t deserve the way they’d go about it. I trusted Lincoln to take care of shit since he seemed to know what he was doing, but that didn’t mean I wanted my wife getting questioned down at the police station.

  “The hero returns,” someone called out across the garage as I walked in twenty minutes later. Then everyone was clapping and cheering as I tried to keep a straight face. Fucking idiots.

  My dad poked his head out the door leading into the clubhouse and lifted his chin in my direction. “Need a minute,” he called out, disappearing again.

  Shit. I took one more look at the car I wasn’t even half done with and cursed. I was never going to get that fucker finished.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I stepped inside the clubhouse.

  “Took a vote this mornin’,” my dad said easily. “Patchin’ you in tonight.”

  I froze. “What?”

  “Congratulations,” he murmured, grinning.

  “Fuckin’ finally,” I muttered to myself, making him chuckle.

  He wrapped me up in a tight hug and thumped my back a few times, then pulled away. “Get back to work,” he said, still grinning. “You’ve been slackin’.”

  “Fuck off,” I joked, shaking my head as I went back out to the garage.

  “Congrats, baby bro,” Will said, pulling me into a headlock the minute I’d stepped into my bay. “All grown up and becomin’ a man.”

  “Fuck you,” I bitched, punching him in the back as he gave me a noogie. “Get the fuck off’a me!”

  He smacked me in the side of the head, then let me go, smiling huge as I shoved him away.

  “Can I get some fuckin’ work done, please?” I griped, grabbing my coveralls off the top of my toolbox. “I’d like to get done at a decent fuckin’ hour tonight.”

  “Got big plans?” Leo
joked.

  “Yeah,” I called back. “Gonna fuck my wife before I get my back piece and she can’t dig her nails in for a while.”

  “Pussy,” Will said.

  “Shit,” I replied. “Just don’t wanna mess up the ink.”

  As the day progressed more guys came up to tell me congrats and make comments about the party happening that night. We didn’t need a reason to party, we did that all the fucking time, but it was tradition to have one when a member was patched into the club. The old ladies were probably irritated as hell that they had to get everything ready, though. They’d just taken care of all the food and booze for our wedding and finally gotten the mess cleaned up.

  At eleven I stripped out of my coveralls and met Lincoln out front as he pulled up.

  “Ah, man,” I joked, shaking his hand. “You’re all slicked up again. Not sure how Heather’s gonna be able to answer shit.”

  “Probably better that way,” he said dryly, reaching up to smooth his tie. “Is she ready?”

  I shook my head and looked toward the gate where Heather was just pulling in. “I’m trustin’ ya, man,” I said quietly as I watched her drive toward us. “Don’t let ’em fuck with her.”

  “I’m good at my job,” he replied.

  I was at Heather’s door as soon as she’d parked.

  “Hey, husband.”

  “Hey, sugar.”

  She went up on her toes and gave me a kiss, running her fingers along my cheek. Then she pulled away and turned her head toward Lincoln.

  “You ready, hotshot?” she asked, closing her car door.

  “Whenever you are,” he replied, his lips twitching.

  She nodded and then looked at me again. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  “Let Lincoln take care of things, alright?” I murmured, pulling her against my chest. “He knows what he’s doin’. Let him do his job.”

  “Got it,” she said, squeezing my waist before letting go. “Be back soon.”

  I watched her walk confidently to Lincoln’s car and climb in with absolutely no hesitation and I realized… that’s what she did. She could be stressing out for days about something, but the minute it was time for battle, she was completely composed. She made herself sick with worry, but when it came down to it she had nerves of steel.