by Lewis, R. J.
He blinked at me, his dark eyes searching my face for several moments. “You done?”
“Done what?”
“Done having your little bitch rant? Because I got a lot of time right now, so if there’s more, go right out and fucking say it.”
I nodded at him, feeling that pent up anger seeping out of me. “Yeah, there’s more.”
“Yeah? What else you got for me, little one?”
I slid off the stool and stood in front of him. I craned my head up at him and spat out, “I don’t get you, Hawke. You’re an asshole, always have been, and it’s for no reason at all. Strutting around all day glaring at me and shit. I haven’t done anything to you!”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, and I’m sick of your fucking ego.”
“My ego?”
“Yeah, and you following me around.”
“What else?”
What else? I looked him over, taking in his large ass frame before pointing at his face. “And I fucking hate your crumb catching beard. Shave it the hell off, you look like Chewbacca.”
He paused, blinked again, and then said, “Great. Now are you done acting like a petulant fifteen year old instead of a grown ass woman?”
Was I done acting like a petulant fifteen year old? I took a few breaths, trying to determine how I felt. The anger was still there, but it’d faded some after my rant. I didn’t feel like a ticking time bomb, so...
“Yeah, I’m done,” I told him.
“Good,” he gritted out. “Now how much did you fucking give her?”
I answered robotically, “Four hundred and thirty dollars.”
He just stared at me, his brows shooting up in disbelief. “Four hundred fucking dollars, Emma?”
“She’s an idiot,” Graeme called out from nearby.
“I was trying to help out a friend,” I stressed defensively. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Graeme laughed in response and Hawke dug into his pocket, shaking his head more to himself as he cursed under his breath. He pulled out his wallet and produced several hundred dollar bills. I watched in confusion as he slammed it on the bar in front of me.
“Once news travels to Borden about what you did, he’s going to demand you be compensated for whatever you gave her,” he explained. “There’s five hundred right there. Take that to your bank and deposit it. Next time, let us know when you intend on helping out your friends, and we’ll do things the right way.”
“What’s the right way?” I retorted.
He took a step closer and leaned his head down to my level. I felt unnerved by his close proximity. Hawke liked to keep his distance, and he was suddenly invading my personal space with his hard brown eyes.
“You don’t give people money,” he told me slowly and harshly. “If they whine about going hungry, you buy them some fucking food if you can. If they’re complaining they can’t make rent, you pay their fucking rent if you can. Pretty much, you fix the problem by going to the very source of the problem, instead of blindly handing cash over. Got it? Or are you going to argue over this too?”
I frowned. I hated that he made sense. Even granny avoided giving me money and spent the years cooking me food to take home. It was her way of knowing I was going to eat instead of handing money over and fearing I would spend it on something else. If I told her about this, she’d have given me an earful.
I sighed in defeat and sat back down. Staring at the money, I muttered, “Yeah, you’re right. I get it. It was impulsive and I wasn’t thinking. I was so focused on wanting to help her out in any way because of how shit she looked. I mean, she seemed desperate and it hurt. I won’t do it again.”
When he didn’t respond, I shot him a glance. He was looking at me like I’d spoken a foreign language, his face all screwed up, his brow furrowed. “I’m right? Just like that?” he said.
I nodded. “Yeah. Go on and rub it in like I know you want to.”
He turned his large body around and exchanged looks with Graeme. They seemed to be silently communicating something. Graeme shrugged at the end and Hawke turned back to me.
“For the first time since your round ass walked in here, you’re pretty fucking reasonable, you know that?” he stated, and before I responded, he gruffly added, “Now take the money and put it in your pocket before Borden comes out and sees it. He’s going to be in a fuck of a mood after talking to my asshole brother and the last thing I want is him taking shit out on you.”
My jaw almost dropped. I avoided showing him the surprise on my face and quickly gathered the money. I pocketed the bills, all the while staring at Hawke’s hard frame from the corner of my eye as he turned and rested his back against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. Why would he care if Borden was going to take his anger out on me? Was this dick actually capable of emotion? He had to be, though he made a damn good effort concealing it.
It was just one of those things, I figured. When you spend a lot of time around people, they naturally start to reluctantly take you in, especially as they come to terms with the fact you aren’t going anywhere. And with Borden’s tight grasp on me, I would be here forever. Maybe Hawke finally accepted that.
He lingered there for a while, looking around, acting all casual like Graeme was, and I almost smiled at these guys. These were my protectors, and maybe I’d been too hard on them. Maybe…I needed to mind my attitude a little more and stop with the death glares.
Idly tapping my finger on the bar, I quietly remarked, “Borden’s in a private room with your brother and a bunch of girls, by the way.”
When he didn’t answer, my eyes flickered to his harsh face. Everything about Hawke was cruel, right down to those hard-pressed lips. But now…well, his face appeared void of emotion. Just like Borden, he mastered the art of empty expression.
Noticing my stare, he glanced at me briefly and replied, “What room?”
“Apparently a big one.”
“With the seedy red curtains?”
I let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t freaking know. I haven’t been in there. Why? Have you?”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “’Course I have.”
I felt a vein in my neck pulse. “Has Borden?”
“It’s not the first time Borden has talked business while women lap danced around them. As far as I know, he’s never gone in there alone, if that’s what you mean.”
“Right…” I muttered, feeling my eye twitch.
He observed me closely. “How does him being in there make you feel?”
I paused, and then admitted, “Enraged. Hence my petulant fifteen year old hissy fit.”
He nodded once.
“But it’s not a big deal,” I added, more to myself. “I mean…so what? Guys do it all the time and women are completely fine with it. I’m fine. I mean, I will be, you know? So…whatever.”
I forced my mouth shut before I really sounded like I was trying too hard to convince him it wasn’t a big deal and delved back into my phone. He strode away, and I already felt stupid for rambling. Clearly this was bothering me because I was due for my period. Shit. When was the last freaking time I even had my period? Two weeks ago. My mind consoled me. Thank goodness. I needed to update my birth control shot in the coming months.
A few minutes later, I heard him approach again. I peered up in time to watch him place a cold beer in front of me. “That’ll make you feel better,” he muttered before taking a seat next to me, his back against the bar.
He got me a drink? Now my jaw really did drop. Progress. That was the one word that came to mind for our hate-filled relationship. We’d just made progress. I stared at the beer in disbelief for a few moments, and then said, “While I appreciate the gesture, I don’t drink, Hawke.”
“Shut up,” he countered. “Everybody drinks. Pick it up and smash it.”
“But –”
“When was the last time you had an icy cold beer like that?”
“Years,” I answered vaguely.
“No.”
“Then drink.” When I didn’t budge, he leaned over and brought the bottle closer to me. “There is a time and place for a good drink, Emma. Look at the condensation on that bottle. Tell that baby no. No, actually, tell that anger boiling inside of you that you won’t try and make it go away with some amber liquid.”
I did look at it, and it did look particularly good.
“I can’t drink,” I argued. “I’ve got dinner with my grandmother tonight. With Borden. Do you know what a train wreck that will be?”
“Even more reason to relax.”
I shot him a look. “You’re very bad influence and I wish we were ignoring each other again.”
His lips spread into a smile. It wasn’t smug or filled with cool hate like I was used to. It was a genuine smile directed at me. It looked good on him. He was an attractive guy, and he’d probably be killer without that goddamn Chewbacca beard. I felt like I’d entered the twilight zone. I needed to savour this moment of peace. I was hours away from an impending disaster with my grandmother. Borden was currently in a situation that had me reeling with jealousy.
And Hawke just fucking smiled at me.
“You know what,” I said boldly, grabbing it like I was grabbing life by the balls. “I’ll have it. Where’s yours?”
Relaxing his shoulders, he chuckled. “Can’t drink on the job.”
“I want to drink on the job,” Graeme cut in desperately, looking over at us. “Grab me a beer too. This is going to be a long afternoon.”
“Yes!” I bellowed. “Come on, Hawke. You heard him.”
Hawke’s face twisted into uncertainty. He looked back at me, this strange mischief and thoughtfulness skirting his features. It was a strange look on him. I liked that look on him.
“Fine,” he muttered, caving in to my reverse peer-pressure.
I smiled. It was official. He’d built a bridge of acceptance and let little Emma Warne cross it. The white flag soared.
Seven
Borden
Borden rubbed at his temples, his patience dwindling. Hector was being a dick. He’d come over without a call (a real fucking inconvenience, never mind a disrespect), strutting into the office with a bunch of long legged airheads with their chests painfully pushed out, and claimed he made progress on their case. Instead of being forthcoming with that information, the man-princess wanted a private area to “relax” before talking about it.
It’d been a half hour since he’d said that, and the biker had talked without really saying anything; then he proceeded to dance a little with the girls on-stage and downed two beers. Borden was regretting the agreement every minute that passed, until the pretty boy decided to finally sit down and get to the fucking point.
“We found a guy,” he told him, eyes tailing a blonde as she moved with the beat to the low music playing in the background. And don’t get Borden fucking started on this bit of bullshit. The pretty boy had carried on prior about not letting women in on their meetings, and now there were four of them, albeit they couldn’t hear anything from where they sat. Still. Bull-fucking-shit.
Borden exhaled slowly. “Who is it?”
“Goes by the name of Bull. He fucking looks like one too. We haven’t scooped him up yet, but he’s been running his mouth about some man named Terry Mulligan taking over the streets.”
“Terry Mulligan. Can’t say I’ve heard of him. Know anything about him?”
“Not yet. We’re in the middle of a bribe with a detective in the police department. We’ll pass the name along.”
“Fuck the bribe. I’ve got some coppers in my pocket already. I’ll pass the name along and it’ll come back within the day.”
“Alright.”
“What about this dickwad running his mouth? What does he know?”
Hector took a gulp of his third beer. “He’s cashed up. He bought a kilo of coke off us and invited some members over to a party in a real nice house in town. The boys went, and after the guy got shitfaced, he started talking smack about you. He doesn’t know about our new ties. Nobody fucking knows, actually. Said your reign is nearing the end and a bloodbath is coming.”
“A bloodbath,” Borden repeated, absently turning his gaze to the stage. “With what army?”
“Exactly. I’m smelling bullshit all around, Borden. I’m beginning to think this shit ain’t gonna amount to anything. Who is more powerful than you around here? Nobody. If somebody wanted to take over, they’d have a lot of dead-ends to conquer, a lot of people on your side to fight.”
“Money,” Borden replied dispassionately. “Loyalty can be bought off most people if the person has enough money. I don’t trust anybody I’ve bought off, and I’ve bought off nine out of ten of them. If they all wanted me gone, I wouldn’t be able to stop them. That’s the fucking risk sitting at the top.”
Hector pursed his lips. “Sounds lonely.”
It had been. For a split second, Borden wondered how he’d survived all those years without Emma. If she was out of the picture, he’d be nothing. He wouldn’t survive that kind of loneliness again. He would self-destruct; the rampage would be violent, and the war path he’d leave behind would be stained with blood and bodies.
“You like that one?” Hector suddenly asked, gesturing to some brunette on one of the small stages, her body wrapped around a pole. “You keep looking at her.”
Borden hadn’t even realized he was staring, he’d been so far off in thought. He studied the girl, looked over every bare inch she was showing of her body, and felt nothing. Utterly nothing. No stir of desire. No curiosity for what lay beneath her tiny skirt. It had been unexciting after Kate, but now it was blatant comparison he was doing in his head. Every girl fell short next to Emma. That’s all he fucking thought about these days. Emma. Emma. Emma.
“I’ve got better,” he answered.
Hector chuckled. “Sure.”
Borden narrowed his eyes at the biker. “You can keep getting your dick wet with countless amount of pussy, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to stop at one.”
“With all due respect, Borden, it would have to be made of gold and rum and fucking rainbow lilies. And last I checked, that kind of pussy doesn’t exist.”
For the first time since knowing this douche, Borden actually smiled. “That’s probably a good thing, Hector. No girl should end up with a man like you.”
Hector nodded in agreement. “Hell no. I like my women. Plural. And that’s the way it’s staying.”
Typical biker.
“Then you’re growing into your brother’s shoes,” Borden remarked.
Hector scoffed in disbelief. “Judging by the state of that fucker, there’s no way he’d be reeling chicks in.”
“You’d be surprised the amount of women that find that rugged look appealing.”
“Rugged? Try filthy. Either they’re blind or getting paid for that shit.”
“After a handful of razor blades, he’d look better than you.”
“Well, we know why that can’t happen.”
True. Hawke was keeping his identity close to his chest. Only the club and Borden knew who he was, and it was a matter of life and death it stay that way.
“So what’s the plan?” Hector then asked Borden, moving back to the topic at hand. “What do you want to happen?”
Borden’s face darkened. “What do I want? I want Bull singing.”
Hector smiled widely, tipping the neck of his beer in Borden’s direction. “That we can do.”
Emma
Two hours later, Borden and Hector still hadn’t appeared, and by then I was a little unbalanced and giggling my ass off. Who knew that Hawke and Graeme would make the best drinking buddies?
Hawke was purposely working on one beer, meanwhile Graeme said, “Screw it, I work every fucking day, hour on the hour. I deserve this.”
I gasped. “Did you just swear, Graeme?!”
“He fucking did,” Hawke said, giving him a
hard slap on the back. “Down that sucker. This is Operation Get Graeme Smashed and we’re going to fucking nuke it ‘til his mouth makes a pirate blush.”
Graeme did. He drank his beers like it was water. By beer number four, he got up and turned the stereo on, cranking it up to a radio station with horrible country music.
