Hawk_Devil's Fury Book 3

by Torrie Robles

  “Yeah, it’s super cool. I wish my name were something cool like that.”

  “Your name is cool, Samuel Joseph Reese.”

  Sam giggles. “Not really, Mom.”

  “Let’s go watch cartoons.” Alex bounces with too much energy, and they both take off towards the living room.

  “It seems like Sam likes him.”

  “Sam likes anyone who’s a male. He’s missing the father figure in his life.”

  “I thought that’s what Croy was there for?”

  I shrug. “You can’t force that kind of stuff, you know? Croy’s great. He’s always been great, and I really don’t know why he continues to be an influence in Sam’s life, but Sam doesn’t have that connection with him. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Maybe Hawking is the answer to your problems.”

  I shake my head. “Are you kidding me? Hawking is the beginning of my problems.”

  Martha purses her lips. “I’ve been around a long time, Tessa, and this old biddy knows things. I think Hawking is worth the chance you’re so afraid to take.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Maybe, but do you know what is possible? You telling that boy what happened to you and letting him make the decision.” She sits back and brings the mug to her mouth.

  Hawk

  She wasn’t home last night.

  I knocked on her door, and there wasn’t a peep. I waited, longer than I should have, and nothing. She’s fucking hiding again, and it pisses me off. I need answers. I try to do the calculations in my head. Seven years since she left and Sam looks to be around that age. When did she get pregnant? Is that why she left? Who’s the fucking father?

  I slam my hands on the steering wheel. One more light and I’m back at the compound. My head is spinning from lack of sleep and the monotonous drive all the way home. This is some bullshit. The drive sucks, and I know this is only the beginning. There’s no way that I can’t go back there. And it has nothing to do with Rose.

  I pass the drive of the clubhouse and pull my truck into Bianca’s. Maybe she knows something that I don’t. As soon as my boots hit the wood of the porch, she opens the door.

  “Hawking.” She pushes the screen door open and steps aside, letting me enter.

  My ass hits the couch, and Jenni comes around the corner with a glass of water. “Not meaning to be rude, but I need something more than water.”

  “All right, don’t get your panties in a wad. I’ll go grab you a beer.”

  Within a few seconds, I have a cold beer in my hand. “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem,” she counters. “I’ll be in my room.” She looks between Bianca and me before heading down the hall.

  “Tell me,” Bianca instructs as she takes a seat next to me. “what is she like?”

  My mind goes to Tessa. How she’s matured, the way her hips fill out her jeans. How her tits stretch the cotton of her shirts. Even in those fucking scrubs, she looked sexy as hell. Motherhood looks good on her. So many things that I wanted to say, but didn’t get a chance because she hid from me.

  “She looks good, Mama B. More mature, so much like the Tessa from the past, but there’s something that I can’t figure out. She’s the same, but so much different.”

  She laughs. “Oh, mijo. I wasn’t talking about Tessa, I meant Rose. How does your mother look?”

  Imagines of her lying in bed, eyes closed–lifeless, enter my mind. Her hands on her stomach, fingers laced together as she slept. “I really don’t know. She’s mostly unresponsive. I sat with her, but that’s all I can tell you. Severe alcohol poisoning, or some shit.”

  “And that’s why Tessa’s on your mind?”

  I take another sip of my beer before bringing it back down in my lap. “She has a son.”

  “Aye, mijo, that’s not possible.” When I look at her, she’s shaking her head. Tears brim in her eyes. “How can that be?” Her lip trembles. “Dijeron que no podía tener hijos, they said she could not bear children.”

  “What do you mean they said it wasn’t possible? Who are you talking about?”

  She stands, still shaking her head. “I need to call Gloria.” Tessa’s mother.

  “Bianca, please.” I stand up and take her by her hand. “I came here for some answers because Tessa wouldn’t give me anything. Do you know what’s going on? Do you have any idea who the father could be? Do you remember anything before Sienna’s murder? He has the right to know that he has a son.”

  She brings her hand up, before giving the side of my face a gentle tap. “Oh my stupid boy, there was only one boy in Tessa’s heart, and there’s no looking for him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you don’t have to look because he’s here.” She places her hand on my chest. “Her eye was only on you.”

  I shake my head, “I don’t believe that. She has a son, and I know for a fact that he’s not mine.”

  “Then you need to ask the right questions to get the right answers.” She leaves me standing there while she mumbles under her breath about her husband and how she wished he would have known.

  Hawk

  It’s Saturday night, and the party at the clubhouse is in full swing. The music thumps against the walls as I make my way down the hallway. As soon as I enter the main room the scent of alcohol and too much perfume hit my nose.

  Dyke’s slinging drinks as he chats with some of the visiting charters. We’ve had more visitors as of late since word on the street is that we’re close to getting exacting revenge at the piece of shit Louie Sr. This has been years in the making. I know as soon as the reaper comes and claims him, Sin will finally be at peace.

  The feel of nails scraping against my arm sets my nerves on end. I don’t need to turn my head to see who’s settled up next to me. “I’ve missed you, baby.” Whiskey breath trickles along my neck as she whispers in my ear.

  Without acknowledging her, I grab her wrist and drag her down the hall, towards my bedroom. Cat calls and whistles hit my ears until I close them off by the slam of my door. Kimmie knows the routine, she knows what I need, and she knows how to give it. I stalk over to my nightstand and yank open a drawer, pulling out a foil wrapper. I may need to fuck her to get my release, but I’m not going to be dumb about it.

  When I turn back around, she’s already naked, on her knees on the floor near the foot of my bed. She holds her hands behind her back, making her tits push out. Her ribs are on full displaying, a tell-tale sign that she’s probably using and not eating. As long as her lack of eating doesn’t affect her gag reflex, I’ll be fine.

  With a pull of my belt, and an unbuttoning of my jeans, my cock springs free of the fabric. Her green eyes dilate as she licks her lips and I smirk, knowing she’s going to give me what I want. She doesn’t run from me, and she sure as shit doesn’t hide. Not like Tessa. And because Kimmie is here, willing, I’m going to give it to her. Every single last drop.

  “You know the rules, right?” I ask as I step forward, jacking my cock, getting it ready for her to take down her throat.

  She licks her lips again, her stare trained on my dick. “Of course, no touching.”

  “Not unless I say, right?”

  “Right.” She gives me a curt nod.

  “Open up then.”

  She complies, and I don’t waste a second. Pushing my tip into her mouth, I take another step forward until I feel her nose hitting my pelvis. My stomach muscles tighten as her tongue does her thing, and my head falls back as I push on the back of her head. Sin may think these ladies have nothing but worn out snatches, but fuck, their mouths are always warm, wet, and ready for action.

  The constriction of her throat as she swallows my dick down almost has me blowing my load. She knows how I like it. Looking down at her as my cock slides in and out of her mouth makes me smirk. Her eyes brighten because she knows she’s doing good. She hums, the vibrations traveling up my shaft hitting my spine causes my legs to tighten.

 
“Up you go, baby.” I pull her by the hair, making my dick slip from her wet mouth. “Turn,” I command as I grab the foil packet.

  “You know you don’t—”

  “Don’t even fucking say it, Kimmie.” I cut her off–not needing to hear the words. I know this is more than sex for her. I’m not fucking stupid. It’s my job in the MC to read people, I’ve always held that talent, and if she thinks I don’t have her number, she’s mistaken. She looks at me just like Kara looks at Sin, and nothing good can come from that shit.

  With my dick fully sheathed, I press my hand to her back, signaling for her to bend over and show me her ass. She complies and gives me a little shake, enticing me, and I can’t help but laugh. Grabbing my dick, I run the head over her wet slit before pushing into her. Her moans turn into a yelp as I slam into her body. I’m done being gentle. This isn’t about lovemaking, this is about fucking. I grip her hair, I twist it around my fist and go to town. Pounding, thrusting, building up my orgasm so I can find my release. This is sex. Pure and simple.

  And it’s high time she fucking knows.

  Tessa

  Two weeks since Hawk left.

  He hasn’t been back.

  Maybe he won’t ever come back, and I’m trying to make peace with that. He told me to contact him if his mom turned coherent and she is, five days now she’s been up, the nurses wheeling her into the common room with the other patients and yet, I haven’t made an attempt to reach out. I’m not sure I can do it. If he’s here, then he’s going to want answers. He’s the doorway to my past, and that’s something I want to keep closed.

  Martha’s words from this morning resonate with me. She tells me that I’m strong-willed. I’m a fighter, I’m someone who comes out on top, but I’m not sure she’s right. I’m tired. I’m so tired from fighting to keep my life happy, to keep my boy safe, but there’s nothing I can do to change any of it. I have to keep going. There’s no way around it. For me, for Sam, I have to continue to find my strength.

  I peek my head into Rose’s room. She sits in her wheelchair with her back towards the door, facing the window. Her brown hair, with strands of gray, is placed in a loose bun, fastened with bobby pins. She’s wearing a pink terry cloth robe that hung in her closet while she slept. Now that she’s up, she’s no longer on the catheter or I.V.’s.

  “Mrs. Calhoon,” I call her quietly. I shouldn’t be in here. I should be cleaning and making my rounds, but I haven’t had a chance to talk with her, and I can’t wait any longer.

  I take more tentative steps into her room until I’m standing next to her and place my hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me but doesn’t smile before she turns her gaze back to the window. Her view isn’t spectacular by any means, it’s the parking lot. Not much to look at but the dirt of the cars.

  “How are you doing today?” I ask. I’d like to know her story, the reason why she’s here. How she ended up an alcoholic, on the brink of poisoning herself. Why her daughters are nearly nonexistent. How I haven’t seen her husband. But by the look on her face, she’s not ready to divulge the information that I’m seeking.

  “Mom.”

  I turn my head and see Rhea standing there. The door closes behind her and a soft click making her jump. She has a slight sway to her, and her footing stumbles a bit. She physically straightens her shirt and smoothes out her hair before approaching us.

  When she gets close enough, she looks at me. She’s glassy-eyed, her pupils constricted even with the lack of light filtering in from the morning haze. Another step in our direction I catch a whiff. There’s no mistaking that smell. I work in a bar, and I can smell stale alcohol from a mile away. Rhea is drunk.

  “Hey.” I stop her from getting any closer to her mother. “Can we step outside and talk for a minute?”

  Her eyes fall to her mother who hasn’t acknowledged her presence and back to me. She takes a deep breath before giving me a slight jerk of her head. Once we're outside the room, I take the lead and hope that she follows me into a little alcove. I turn around, and I address her.

  “Where have you been?” I snap.

  Her eyes widen. “I’ve been busy.”

  “It’s been over two weeks since you’ve been here.”

  She puts out her hands and shakes her head. “Wait, are you scolding me right now? Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t know me.” Her voice is getting louder, and I don’t need to drawing attention to us.

  “I’m not scolding you, but your mother has been awake for five days–”

  “Five days?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told someone to call me when she woke up. Why didn’t anyone call me when she woke up?”

  I shrug. “I can’t tell you why. That’s not my job.”

  She sways again, and her body starts to lean towards mine. I grab her by the arms, keeping her in place. Her eyes brim with tears before she blinks, making them cascade down her face.

  “I didn’t know.” She hiccups. I know the alcohol is making her more emotional. I know this isn’t a natural reaction.

  “You can’t be here when you’re drunk, Rhea.”

  Confusion flashes on her face as she continues to wipe away the tears. “I–I'm not drunk.” She says, dragging out the word, drunk a little too long.

  “Don’t,” I tell her holding up my hand. “I know you are. I can smell it on you, see it in your eyes, and by the way you look like you’re standing on a boat swaying rather than here on land, I can tell.” She doesn’t say anything. “Your mom has been without alcohol for what? A month or so?” Martha told me about Rose’s history in more detail once Hawk left. “Do you think it’s all right for you to be around her like this? Don’t you think it’s a little tempting?”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Here comes the defense drunk people usually start up with. “How do you have the right to tell me what to do? You don’t know me. You don’t know what I have to deal with. Don’t you dare judge me.”

  “I’m not judging you. I’m only trying to get you to see reason. You being here under the influence isn’t the best thing for your mother while she’s recovering.”

  She shoulders past me, not giving me another moment of her time. I know I have no right. I’m a custodian, nothing more. But Rose isn’t just any patient, she’s Hawks mother. He’s her son. And it’s time he takes hold of that position.

  Pulling out my phone with shaky hands, I bring up his name.

  Me: Your mom is awake.

  Hawk: I’m on my way.

  I pocket my phone. I know I did the right thing.

  At least I hope.

  Hawk

  I blink the sleep from my eyes. I didn’t expect to get that text. Since I haven’t heard from Tessa at all, I didn’t think she’d tell me. That’s why I reached out to Martha and made sure she kept me in the loop on everything regarding my mom. I knew five days ago that Rose woke up, but I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to head back to Los Angeles until Tessa reached out. Only then did I know she was ready to have me back in her life.

  My bag is already in the truck. It has been since Martha called me about my mom’s improvements. I wanted to be ready. I didn’t want shit to hold me back when it was time to get out of town.

  “You headed back to L.A.?” Dyke asks as he walks up, holding an envelope.

  “Yeah.”

  He pushes the envelope into my chest. “Thought you’d want to see these.” He steps back, grabbing onto the edges of his cut that cover his chest and waits for me with no expression on his face. He’s still a beast of a guy. Sixty ain’t got nothing on him.

  I open the envelope and pull out the papers and what looks like a stack of pictures. I thumb through the pictures first since they’re on top. The first photo is of a woman, who seems to be a younger version of Rose, is standing next to a man, and two little girls. The woman appears troubled, her eyes are vacant. One of the little girls is taller than the other with long, blonde hair and pierc
ing blue eyes. Just like mine. The other girl is shorter with brown, chin-length hair. She’s pulling on the taller girls arm, and by the look on the taller one’s face, she isn’t too happy.

  “They were eight and seven there. Now they’re twenty and twenty-one.”

  I look up from the pictures. “Who are they?”

  “Your sisters.”

  I take a step back as the adrenaline starts to pump through my veins. “Wait. What do you mean they’re my sisters?”

  “Come on, Hawk. You’re a smart kid. The taller one, her name is Loa. The younger one, her name’s Rhea. They’re both from the same man, a one James Calhoon. She met him not long after she left New Mexico. They dated briefly, and when she ended up pregnant, they married. Shortly after Loa was born, she became pregnant with Rhea.”

  “Wait. She never divorced my father. How can she be married to another man?”

  “That’s a great question. My take is that she never told this guy that she was already married in another state. I’m sure wherever they got the marriage license didn’t check that fact. Or the fact that she was using her maiden name of Lemont. Either way, this guy thinks he’s been married to her for the past twenty years.”

  “Is he still in the picture? I sat with her for two days, and no one came to visit.”

  “He left her about five years ago. She’s spent the past decade more drunk than sober. I guess her love for the drink wasn’t working for his career, so he took the girls and left.”

  “Fuck,” I groan as I look down at the picture, flipping through the rest.

  “Rhea seems to be following in her mother’s footsteps. She’s been picked up countless times for public intoxication–barely graduated high school. Now she’s working at some fast food joint and spends more time on her friends’ couches than she does in her own bed, but her father doesn’t know that. He’s kinda washed his hands of her.”

  “So Loa goes to school?”

  “Yeah. She’s enrolled in Cal State LA, on a full ride scholarship, studying biological sciences.”