by Chiah Wilder
Jagged lines of lightning flashed against the darkening sky and thunder rumbled as the sky opened up, dropping torrents of rain and hail. The trees groaned as the wind bent their branches. Cara’s dress swept up under a gust of cool wind, and, rushing to the screen door, she yelled, “Come on in.”
Inside, a welcoming living room greeted them—hardwood floors and an open floor plan made the house seem modern in spite of its 1920s architectural designs. Post-modern and impressionist artwork adorned the pale yellow walls, and built-in bamboo bookcases held leather-bound books. The pillowy sofa and chairs by the fireplace lent an air of coziness to the room.
Cara gestured for the guys to sit down. Their blue jeans, leather boots, and patched cuts didn’t blend in with her casual, yet chic décor, and she stifled a giggle—they looked so out of place.
Breaking the silence, Banger said, “What smells so good?”
“Yeah, it’s like we’re in an Italian restaurant, or something,” Jax agreed.
Smiling, Cara nodded toward her gourmet kitchen. “I’m making meat sauce for tomorrow’s dinner. My family usually has Sunday dinner together, and I’m having it here.”
“If it tastes anything like it smells, that’ll be one helluva dinner.” Banger licked his lips.
“I’ve made a ton. Do you want to have dinner? I was going to make pasta and a salad. You’re more than welcome to join me.”
“If it didn’t smell so good, I’d pass, but I gotta try that sauce. Spaghetti’s always been my favorite. Do you have meatballs, too?” Banger was practically salivating.
“Meatballs, too. Let me grab you guys some beer and I’ll start dinner.” Cara handed the remote control to Jax. “You can watch TV while I get dinner going. I’ll bring out some munchies. It’ll take a while to boil the pasta.”
Cara jumped up from the chair and shuffled into the kitchen. After pulling out three beers from the fridge, she turned around and crashed into a wall of muscled chest. Cedar, leather, and musk scents enveloped her while two of the beer bottles slipped from her hand. Hawk caught them before they shattered on the hardwood floor.
“I—I didn’t expect you to be behind me.”
Hawk took the third bottle from her, leaned in close, and whispered, “I love being behind you, babe. I love looking at your sweet ass.” His breath was hot against her ear, making her stomach flutter.
All of a sudden, the room seemed hot and stuffy. He licked her earlobe then turned around, and headed back into the living room. Cara watched his tall, ripped figure. He was beautiful—breathtaking. He made her giddy and nervous at the same time. Why did she always revert to acting like a lovesick fourteen-year-old whenever he came into her space?
Shaking her head, Cara made a vow to work on not letting him get under her skin. After all, she was an independent and professional woman. If she could endure Professor Pratt’s Property Law class and put up with Judge Reese’s courtroom tantrums, she could handle Hawk, the sexy biker. Right?
As Cara prepared the garlic bread, she heard one of the breakfast stools scrape against the floor and whirled around, meeting Hawk’s stare. She raised her eyebrows at him. “What are you staring at?”
He didn’t answer, just continued staring. Deciding she was tired of his intimidation games, she ignored him and went over to the cupboard next to the breakfast island to grab a salad bowl. His eyes followed her every move, making her muscles twitch and her mouth go dry. Turning around, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then jumped when Hawk’s arm encircled her waist, tugging her into him. His erection pressed against her lower back and he threaded his fingers through her hair, moving it to the side to kiss her neck gently.
Insides sizzling, she almost dropped the salad bowl her aunt had given her. His feathery kisses grew harder, more demanding, and her nerves burst into a thousand electric shocks as her red lace panties grew damp. Trembling under his mouth’s assault, Hawk grasped her neck’s tender flesh between his teeth and bit and sucked it hard. Crap, he’s trying to give me a hickey. Panic seizing her, Cara twisted in a feeble attempt to pull her neck away. “Hawk, don’t leave a mark on me. Don’t do it!”
Laughing against her skin, he resumed sucking but Cara, using all her strength, squirmed out of his embrace, only to have him haul her back into him.
In a low, deep voice, he said, “I wanna see your tattoo. I never figured you’d go in for one, especially a low back stamp. I wanna see your ass with all the ink on it. Fuck, you’re so hot. My cock wants in so badly, babe.”
She leaned into him and rubbed her ass against him, and he moaned. Her panties were drenched.
“Teasing me, baby? Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish. I know if I put my fingers on your pussy, you’d be wet, right?”
Cara squeezed her eyes closed as she whimpered. Crap… I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by what he’s saying. Go figure; another surprise.
“Are those munchies comin’?” Banger’s voice sliced through their desire.
While Hawk nuzzled her neck, it dawned on her that Banger and Jax had seen their kitchen sexcapade. Mortified about the two guys in the other room having a front row seat, she twisted away from Hawk, her face red. She glared daggers at Hawk, warning him not to come one step toward her, and then pointed her finger at the stool and mouthed, “Sit and stay seated!”
He sauntered over to the stool, sat down, and resumed his staring game.
Cara tossed her head at Hawk, then walked into the living room. She placed the platter of sliced salami, mozzarella, cherry peppers, and crispy breadsticks on the glass-top coffee table in front of Banger and Jax as they watched car racing on the television. Red streaks marked her cheeks as Jax grinned; she averted her gaze and hurried back to the kitchen.
Hawk stood up when she came into the kitchen. “Don’t even think it,” she hissed.
He sat back down, continuing to watch the way her curvy body moved as she cooked, and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fussing with his crotch. Turning to face him, she noticed he had a hard-on. His smoldering eyes told her that he wanted to relieve his dilemma, and she was his choice of the hour. Flashing him an in-your-dreams look, Cara went back to her cooking.
“What is this?” a voice from the living room boomed. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?”
Hawk sprang to his feet and placed his hand on the knife hidden under his cut as Banger and Jax assumed poses. Cara, flustered, ran into the living room, and as Hawk tried to hold her back, she jerked away.
“Eric, what’s the matter?” she asked, concern creasing her forehead.
A six-foot-tall man with a slim build looked in her direction. He had sandy brown hair and brown eyes, and his skin was pale with red blotches flecking his cheeks and chin. He had an umbrella in his hand. “What’s going on?”
“Hold on, there. Who we are and what we’re doing here is none of your fuckin’ business.” Jax stepped menacingly toward Eric.
Dismissing Jax with his hand, the man said, “I was speaking to Cara. What’s going on here?”
Cara ran up to him and hugged him. “Nothing. I’m just making dinner, they’re watching the race, and everything is good. Very good.” She tried to sound perky but failed; she could never do perky very well.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hawk came behind Cara, grabbing her hand.
Before the whole room turned into a boxing match, Cara said, “I want you all to meet my cousin, Eric.” Motioning to each of the bikers and slipping her hand out of Hawk’s grip, she said, “This is Hawk, Banger, and Jax. Now, why don’t you guys go back to watching TV, and Eric, you come with me into the kitchen so we can catch up.”
Eric, taking calculated steps, followed Cara. Turning to Hawk, she said, “Can you give us some privacy?”
Glowering, Hawk swaggered to the living room. Cara exhaled after realizing she had been holding her breath. She didn’t need any trouble, and Eric could be just that, especially since he had become more difficult than us
ual in the past several months. And the biker guys, well, attitude was written all over them.
“I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“That’s obvious. What are these scumbags doing in your house?”
“I invited them to dinner, and they’re fine, so be nice.”
“How do you even know them? Do you know who they are?” The bikers glared at him from their places in the living room.
“Come on. Let’s go out to the back porch.” Cara walked out back, closing the door behind them. Looking at Eric, she said, “Stop being a pain in the ass. You’re being rude.”
“Good, I want to be rude to those scumbags. They’re Insurgents—you know, outlaw bikers. Do you get what that means?”
“I’m a defense attorney, remember? One of the guys is my client and they came over to talk about his case. I asked them to stay for dinner. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that they’re pieces of shit. They’re involved in illegal activity like running guns, drugs, women, and children. Are these the kinds of people you want to eat dinner with?”
“You’re kinda exaggerating, aren’t you? I know they aren’t choirboys, but trafficking? You’ve got the wrong MC.”
“And that asshole Hawk is the worst.” He looked at her, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day that you’d have such scum in your home.”
“I told you, one of them is my client. How do you know Hawk?”
“I know all of them. They’re criminals. I’m a judge. I know what goes on in my county.”
“You’re overreacting, Eric. They’re okay guys. Hawk is my client.”
“Do you have all your lowlife clients over for dinner?”
“I didn’t plan it, it just happened. It’s pouring rain, and I didn’t want them riding in it. There’s no harm here.”
Eric let out a long sigh, his mouth constantly twitching. He seemed weird—too hyper, too animated, and too angry. “What would your parents say?”
Cara swallowed. “They wouldn’t like it, but I’m a big girl now. I’m not a cut-out figure of my parents.”
“And the way he grabbed your hand. The nerve of that bastard. It was repulsive!”
“He didn’t know who you were. He thought I was in danger.”
Eric cracked his knuckles. “You know what really disgusted me was the way you looked at him. You’re not falling for this trash, are you?”
Cara blushed. She hated that her eyes gave her away, and even though she didn’t want to admit it, she did feel drawn to Hawk. The more she saw him, the more she wanted him, and being in his presence was intoxicating. She looked down. “No, I’m not falling for him.”
“You better not be. You know that would ruin your family name, and your mom would probably have a heart attack.”
“And you know you’re over-the-top on this one. What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been so moody and angry. You’ve changed from the fun cousin I hung around with in high school and college. What’s up with you?”
“I have a lot of shit I have to deal with. Being a District Court judge isn’t easy, and I’ve got my upcoming wedding. Nancy is making it into a huge deal. Now I have you hanging out with trash.”
“I know it must be hard being the youngest judge on the bench, but it’s something you wanted. You know that’s all you talked about when you were in law school. As for Nancy, well, she’s into appearances, so I’m not surprised that she’s planning the socialite-studded wedding of the year. You wanted a rich girl, so you have to realize that she’ll always suffer from Princess Syndrome.”
“You don’t. Your dad is wealthy, but you’re not like Nancy or her friends. You’re almost too open, like having these jerks over to your house. It makes me sick, Cara, it really does.”
“That’s just what I’m saying. If this were a few years ago, you’d have laughed your ass off at finding these macho men sitting on my cushy couches. I miss the old Eric.”
Her cousin looked at her with shining eyes as tenderness softened the fury on his face. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but the softness disappeared and the hard fury returned. “I want you to tell them to go.”
“What? Are you serious? I won’t do that. You know, I’ve supported you through a ton of shit over the years, and I was with you even if I didn’t agree with your decisions. You have no right to tell me to ask guests to leave my house. No way.”
“So you’re choosing scum over me, your family?”
“How did this turn into me choosing you or them? This is stupid bullshit, and you know it.”
“I’m out of here.” Eric turned around, went into the house, walked past the bikers, and slammed the front door. Cara ran after him, trying to catch him. Standing on her front porch, she watched Eric’s car fade into the misty rain. What just happened here? I can’t believe we had a fight over three bikers in my house.
Was Eric telling her the truth about the extent of the MC’s criminal activity? Was that why the police were after Hawk? She couldn’t believe that. He didn’t strike her as someone who’d sell women and children, but how could she be sure? Maybe she believed what she wanted because of the budding feelings for Hawk.
“What the fuck’s wrong with your asshole cousin?” Hawk’s gravelly voice startled her.
She shrugged. “He’s just stressed and over-protective.”
“Stressed about what?”
“He’s getting married in a few months, and he’s only been a judge for a year. There’s a lot of pressure with that. I don’t know. He’s just stressed.”
“That fucker’s a judge?”
“Hey, you’re talking about my cousin. Yeah, he’s a judge. Let’s forget about all this.”
“He’s damn lucky I’ve got the hots for you, otherwise your cousin would be a bloody pulp on your nice floors. Insurgents don’t tolerate disrespect from anyone. You better educate your cousin on that, ’cause next time, we won’t be so patient.”
Brute anger blazed in Hawk’s eyes, and Cara didn’t doubt his words for one minute. A strained silence veiled the room as the bikers’ angry glances bored into Cara. Twirling her hair around her finger, her knees weak, she pointed toward the kitchen. “Dinner is ready.”
* * *
Eating around the kitchen table, Banger raved about how good Cara’s tomato sauce was and told her he wanted Cara to give his daughter, Kylie, the recipe so she could make it for him. So that’s who Kylie is, Banger’s daughter. Does Hawk have something with her? I doubt it. Banger said she’s still in high school, and I can’t see Hawk banging the president’s teenage daughter.
“These are the best meatballs I’ve ever tasted,” Banger said.
“It’s my father’s recipe. He loves to cook.”
“Well, he taught you good.” Banger took some more meatballs.
Jax and Hawk had three helpings, so she presumed they liked her food. Desire rippled through her body every time Hawk looked at her with smoldering eyes, and when he licked his lips, she could feel them on hers.
Cara packed four jars full of tomato sauce for the guys to take back to the clubhouse. She’d have to make another batch the following morning for her family dinner that evening. Hopefully, Eric will cool down by tomorrow night, or dinner could be a disaster. She didn’t want to think about that right then, though. The bikers were leaving, and being a good hostess, she followed them out.
Swathed in cool night air, Cara wrapped her arms around herself as goosebumps covered her skin. The rain had stopped, and she inhaled the damp freshness which clung to the pine needles and saturated the ground. Hawk put his arm around her shoulders, lifted her chin with his hand, and kissed her hard—his tongue pushing its way into her mouth as she kissed him back. In her driveway, Banger and Jax’s Harleys screamed to life.
Hawk jumped down her porch steps then swung his long leg over his Harley’s seat before he roared his bike to life. As they
pulled out of her driveway, he and his fellow bikers shattered the tranquility of the night. Hawk turned to look back at Cara and, as their eyes met, an electric current passed between them.
Cara stayed on her porch until she could no longer hear the rumble of his engine and the only sounds left were the crickets singing. Inside, in the hallway mirror, horror greeted Cara’s reflection: a large, red mark on the left side of her neck.
Oh, my God, what a hell of a hickey. I haven’t had one since high school. So much for my vow not to act like a teenager. Crap, what am I going to do about this?
Chapter Seven
Sitting with his jaw clenched, Hawk waited for Cara to come through the doors. The coolness of the wood chair under his ass contrasted with the raging fire building inside him. If he had to wait another minute, he would explode and bash all the windows in the small, sterile room. He’d beat the shit out of the fucking asshole deputy who thought he was something, and then he’d make each one of them pay for—
The door swung open, interrupting his thoughts. Standing in front of him, Cara wore a black pencil skirt and bolero jacket with a peek of lavender lace underneath it. She looked amazing. His eyes raked over her, and it took all his strength not to jump over the table, yank her to him, and kiss her.
“How are you doing? Are they treating you okay?” She smiled warmly.
“Get me the fuck outta this shithole or I’m gonna kick a lot of asses ’round here.”
“I know this sucks, but I hope to get bail set for you. The hearing is this afternoon. Banger said the club could make the bail, even if it’s set as high as a hundred thousand.”
Hawk’s eyes widened. “Why in the fuck would it be set that high? What’re they sayin’ here?”
