by Lewis, R. J.
“What did they do?”
“Kicked me, beat me against a tree, that sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing,” he repeated, his nostrils flaring. His breathing changed as he studied me. “I didn’t fucking see that part.”
“It’s fine.”
“Like fuck it is.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter right now. Where is Borden?”
“I don’t know. He fucking disappeared. The last anyone’s seen him was at the port.”
“Where the hell could he disappear to?”
“If I knew, I’d take you to him, Emma. I’m in the dark too.”
Worry replaced my fear. “They got him, don’t they?”
He didn’t answer.
I sucked in a breath, but it felt like my lungs were compressed. “They got him.”
“We don’t know that.”
But I did know that. “The bald guy…” I breathed out unsteadily, “he said tonight everything was going down.”
“What did he mean?”
“It means they got him.”
He exhaled. “You need to quit thinking, Emma. Let us do that, alright? Get out of the car and come inside. You’re going to be looked after –”
“I don’t want to be looked after,” I interrupted on a shout. He blinked at me in surprise for my outburst, but I felt like I’d reached the end of my rope. “I’ve had the worst day of my life. I watched a man I care for get killed. Then I got buried alive. And now you’re telling me that Borden’s disappeared. The last thing I want to do is get dropped off in a biker den filled with fuck heads who don’t give a shit!”
“You’re talking like you have a fucking choice,” he replied calmly, his dark eyes burning into my own. “Unfortunately, darling, you’re shit out of luck. You’ve got no choice in the matter. You’re coming in, you’re getting a room, and that’s where you’ll be until Borden is located. Got it?”
“Fuck you!”
“Emma,” his voice came out as a warning.
I pushed at his hard chest, more tears falling. “Go away! Leave me here.”
“In a car, all alone, looking the way you do? You’re having a fucking meltdown.”
“I’d rather be on my own in this car than around a group of crazy, strange men.”
“You won’t. I’ll be there with you.”
I froze and my arms fell. “You don’t mean that,” I muttered sceptically.
“Of course I mean that. You think I’d just leave you around by yourself with these guys? Borden would have my head. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I promise.”
I deliberated for a few moments. He let me have my illusion of choice. Frankly, I knew I didn’t have one. I would have to go. I didn’t trust what was out there, and after tonight, I felt stripped of the strong girl I thought I was and reduced to a vulnerable, terrified mess. Borden had said before that there were people out there that wanted to hurt me just for being with him. I understood that, but tonight reality struck me numb with the experience. I never wanted to have a similar experience again.
“Come on,” Hawke whispered, a note of desperation in his voice. “Nothing will happen to you. I got you this far, didn’t I?”
I nodded dazedly. With trembling fingers I undid my seatbelt. He asked me if I needed help getting out of the car and I stubbornly shook my head. I didn’t think I would need any, but then my body swayed and my vision dizzied. I took a few breaths and caught the seat as I slid off of it. Hawke didn’t help me, but he remained close in case I fell. There was concern in him. I knew he wanted to carry me in, but I objected to his touch. I needed only one man’s hands on me, and it wasn’t Hawke’s.
We walked to the opened door of the large tattoo parlour. Cautious, I looked around, waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe a teensy part of me thought Hawke would turn on me, or something. It was bad to think that way because he saved me, but I didn’t trust the bikers and I didn’t have much faith in people.
If Borden trusts him, you must too.
He let me step in first, and I was immediately greeted with the sight of both the men that answered the door and Hector, who was leaning back against the reception desk at the front with his arms crossed. All three pair of eyes looked me over immediately. If they were dismayed by the filthy sight of me, they didn’t show it on their faces. Hawke followed after me and slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt.
“What the fuck is going on?” Hector immediately asked.
“A deal is a deal,” Hawke replied coldly. “You gotta honour your deals, brother.”
Hector’s jaw ticked. “I gotta honour my deals? What deal are you referring to exactly? Because as far as I’m concerned, Borden was the one that left us high and fucking dry. I’m not taking that bitch in over whatever the fuck has happened on your end –”
“Borden’s disappeared, asshole,” Hawke cut in, stepping beside me. His body shook with unconcealed rage. “His girl got kidnapped, got beaten around, watched men get blown to smithereens, and then she was buried alive, and you’re going to fucking stand there and tell me you’re not gonna take her in?”
All three men looked back at me, their blank faces twisting into mortification. Silence followed, until Hawke nudged me and said, “Get in that chair, Emma.”
I sat down on a waiting chair against the wall beside the desk. All at once, my body gave out and I buried my face in my hands. It took a few deep breaths before I had the energy to even look up at them. They were still staring at me. Hector, in particular, couldn’t seem to look away, caught up in a wave of both indifference and curiosity.
One of the men sighed and finally broke the silence. “Borden said he was going to the customs office to get our shipment through. He said he had some pansy that he threw money under the table to get the shit in. He never showed back up. We waited five hours and turned back.” He shrugged, and I studied him for a quick moment. He was older, probably mid-sixties, spindly and tall, with a grey goatee and longish black/grey hair. He had one of those cuts on with the word “treasurer” on it. I didn’t know what it meant. I wasn’t up to date with criminal biker terminologies.
“I know,” Hawke replied. “His men had the same story. He’s disappeared, and we have to find him.”
“Mulligan’s probably got him,” Hector spoke, his eyes still on me. “That’s the only explanation. He wasn’t alone once, not until he ducked out to the office. We circled around that street a dozen times. His car wasn’t there. I thought maybe he just took off, or something happened to his bitch or something.”
His bitch.
“I have a name,” I gritted out. “It’s Emma. Not Bitch.”
Hector shrugged. “Same fucking difference, and you’re still not staying. The business transaction never happened. Now we’re fucked because we don’t have our fucking product to pass up to the Italian mob that’ll be hounding our asses in about five seconds. This is a serious fuck up.”
“Your shipment is here,” Hawke gruffly retorted. “It’s sitting at the fucking port, brother! Getting it out won’t be an issue.”
“We’re not taking her in until it’s out. This deal only works when it’s fifty-fifty.”
Hawke’s expression dropped. I felt a chill in the room radiating from him. He took a step closer, his huge body mirroring Hector’s, but he looked so much rougher, like he’d been around the block way more times than his younger brother. I believed it.
The other two men stepped away from him, deciding distance was better, and that was a wise decision. Hawke was as unpredictable as Borden, and that could be a good thing, or a very bad thing depending what side you were on.
“Fifty-fifty?” he repeated slowly. “Borden sold himself out for you dipshits. He barely takes a slice of the fucking pie. You’re getting a deal of the fucking century with that product, and you dare fucking talk about fifty-fifty? The deal was to make sure she” – he pointed at me with his damaged hand – “has a safe place to be when the time is right –
and the time is fucking right.”
“I’m sorry, Hawke, but you don’t get to make that decision. Last I checked, I was the President of this club, and that bitch ain’t staying –”
PUNCH!
The strike was so abrupt, I hardly registered it happened. Hawke’s fist was coated in bright red blood, and Hector was on the ground, hand over his blood nose, wheezing through his nostrils. With ease, Hawke kneeled down to his level and said very slowly, “And last I checked, I’m the real fucking president of this club, and I get to override your substituting ass whenever I fucking well feel like it. She stays. And Hector,” he leaned in even closer, “she’s got a fucking name, and bitch ain’t one of them.”
Eighteen
Emma
Hawke got his way. Hector stormed out of the parlour with a hand over his nose and a scowling face. A minute later his bike roared to life and zoomed away. The other two men just lingered in the background, staring at Hawke like he was Jesus resurrected. He stared back at them evenly, growling out, “She’s staying. Anybody else got a problem with that?”
They shook their heads. The goatee man muttered, “No, Hawke. It’s…good to have you back.”
“I’m not back,” Hawke replied. “I’m just stepping in for a while. When she’s here, I’m the boss, and nobody better fucking look at her. She’s Borden’s property, and you better pass that message along when we get to the clubhouse.”
They nodded adamantly, and I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I was used to Hawke taking orders, not giving them.
“Good,” he said, grabbing a bottle of unopened beer on the counter. “Now give me the fucking key to the place.”
*
He took me to a pub – called Crown – on the same street. It was another non-descript red bricked building. There was a black banner above the name of the pub with the word Warlords on it and a symbol of a sword in the middle of two crossed battle axes and a flaming skull dead centre. I recognized this symbol. It was on the back of their leather cuts.
I wanted to ask why Hawke was taking me to a pub, but I didn’t bother. There was a method to his madness, and I was too exhausted to speak anyway. This entire night felt endless, and I knew even when I hit the pillow I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes. I’d be thinking of Borden and stressing over his whereabouts.
We got out of the car and he took out a key that one of the bikers gave him at the parlour. He jammed it into another black entrance door and, before kicking it open, he said to me, “If anyone is still conscious, stick by me, alright? They might be too drunk to know who you are and try cop a feel.”
I nodded at him. “Okay.”
He opened the door and we stepped in. The pub was huge and ordinary, and the lights were dim but visible enough to see everything. The first thing I noticed was the man passed out on a stool with his head on the bar counter and a spilt mug of beer next to his arm. As I took a look around, I spotted two other guys, one asleep on a chestnut coloured table, another on the ground and snoring with his head against a wall.
I shot Hawke a look of confusion. Where exactly was he intending on taking me? I followed him across the vast room, to the far back part of the pub. Pushing open a door, I saw a staircase so dark and eerie looking, I was sure people got stabbed on them often. This time, I didn’t let Hawke keep his distance. I moved closer to him and grabbed at his arm. I didn’t want to be stabbed on top of everything else tonight. He didn’t seem to mind as we climbed up the long steep stairs. We reached a medium sized open area. It looked like a living space with worn couches, arm chairs, and a massive television. There was one shirtless man sleeping on a four seater couch and a completely naked woman sprawled over him. Aside from her bare ass, her other lady bits weren’t visible. The room backed on to a small kitchen and standing there was a petite woman with light brown hair piled high in a loose bun with her back turned to us. She had a kettle in her hands and was filling up a mug.
Hawke stopped dead and stared at her. For a brief moment, his body tensed. “Tyler?” he let out quietly, his voice laced with disbelief.
The girl jumped and a slosh of boiling water spilled over her knuckle. “Shit,” she whispered before turning around. Her knuckle was in her mouth, and she was sucking on her burn gently when her gaze connected with Hawke. Her eyes bulged out of her face, the burn no longer concerning her as she dropped her hand to her side and stared at him.
“Hawke?” she asked.
He looked her over, from top to bottom, taking in her long pyjama pants with yellow bird patterns and grey sweater with a name of what I assumed was a local school. Whether it was high school or college, I didn’t know. The girl appeared very young, maybe eighteen (hopefully eighteen).
“What are you doing here?” she said, moving to us. Mindful of the biker asleep on the couch, her movements were quiet. “And why is your beard so long?”
Hawke stared her down, his face going tight. “First of all, leave my beard alone. Second of all, what am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?”
She stopped feet away from us, a look of guilt washing over her young face. “I…”
“You what?” he pressed, a voice of authority now. “You whoring around the clubhouse now, Ty?”
She hesitated and her eyes looked away for a moment. “I’m not whoring myself, Hawke.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here? Whose bed are you in?”
She didn’t respond.
Hawke’s fisted his hands. “Answer me, Tyler. Is it Hector?”
“No,” she murmured almost too quietly to hear, but her cheeks went pink at the mention of Hector and I had to wonder if she was telling the truth.
“Then who?”
Her lips trembled as she breathed out, “Yours.”
Hawke’s shoulders slumped in relief, and now I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Did he like her? There was no want in his eyes. In fact, he looked at her like she was a kid in a very naughty place – and she kind of was, I guess.
“There were no other rooms,” she went on to explain. “The club’s been really full lately, and…I didn’t do anything to your room. It’s the same. I mean, there’s a little dust, but…I don’t have anything of mine in there. Well,” she paused and her eyes went to the ceiling in thought. “I got my purse in there, and some outfits, and…I think I got my straightener in there too, but...I crash here because the guys are cool with it, and…they had a wild night and I couldn’t go to sleep. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I promise… I swear, Hawke.”
Fucking hell. Doth does protest too much.
Hawke crossed his arms, exhaling slowly as she rambled. “Alright, Ty, I got it. But I need a room for her to crash.” He motioned to me, and for the first time the young girl looked at me with her brows shot up.
“Oh!” she said. “Okay, I didn’t know you were with someone or…I mean…is she yours? Cause she’s wearing your…” Her gaze went to his giant jacket I was still wearing. I didn’t even care I hadn’t given it back. It was warm and I was still numb. “Well, she’s pretty. Did you need the bedroom to be with her? I didn’t touch the condoms in your drawer. I mean…I saw them, and” – this girl was the most awkward thing I’d ever seen – “I’d find no reason to use them or anything –”
“No,” he immediately replied, blinking hard at the rest of her gibberish, “she is definitely not mine, and please don’t fucking say the word condoms to me, Tyler. I might blow a fuse with you. This is Emma. Borden’s girl.”
At the mention of Borden, she looked mortified. “Oh, my God, Marcus Borden? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know. I should have known –”
“It’s fine,” I hastily interrupted, surprised by her reaction. What the hell? Was she terrified of me? What was so terrifying about me? I looked like a human ragdoll. I could still see bits of dirt on my hair, for crying out loud.
“Ty,” Hawke said, patience depleted. “A room. I need a goddamn room. Is there one or not?”
&nb
sp; “You can just have yours back. I’ll find a way home. I washed the sheets yesterday, so it should be clean. I can replace them again if you like, Emma –”
“Ty, it’s fine,” Hawke went off again on an annoyed sigh. “Stay here. I’ll be back to take you home where you belong,” he stressed the last word with a glare in her direction, and she shrivelled away in her guilt-stricken state. “Sit down and have your tea. I’ll put Emma away.”
I’ll put Emma away. Like I was some vacuum cleaner that needed to be put back inside a closet. I sighed, not even bothering to dwell. I followed him out of the room and down a hallway filled with closed doors and other rooms. Christ, this place was huge, and it’d looked so mundane and lacklustre out front.
His room was the last door. We got in and he turned the light on. He surveyed the room, shaking his head at all the pink shit. Poor, awkward Tyler was a fibber. She’d practically moved into his bedroom. Aside from her butterfly lamp, pink clothes, pink mini-rugs and nearly naked man posters on the wall, the room was average. A queen bed was against the wall. There was a dresser and a desk, and a bathroom (thank heavens). Hawke threw his key down on the desk and continued to look around, this time running a hand over his beard in frustration.
