At least now I had no reason to ever go back to Boulder fucking Colorado.
Now, in a room full of testosterone and murmurs, sweat and bourbon and smoke, I felt vulnerable. I was pretty exposed in my tiny skirt and loose t-shirt, but, more than that, I felt like I was in a room full of men just like Larry. Like Daddy.
Daddy gave me a weakness for gamblers. Card players in particular and especially mean, tough card players.
Men like the man that Larry pretended to be.
Hammer looked up through a cloud of blueish cigar smoke. He gave me no more acknowledgement than that. Eight other bikers sat around the big, round table. Eight more plus Hawk.
Hawk was sat across the table from Hammer. Hawk was dealing. He dealt two cards to each player. It looked like they were playing Texas Hold ’em.
Seems that’s what everybody plays now. It’s hard to see why, as it’s better for the house than the players. Daddy said that everyone comes away better from seven-card stud in a private game. He probably meant the more experienced players came away better off, though.
They played with Vegas-style chips. Hammer and Hawk had the biggest stacks.
As Jascinta told me, I went around the table with the bourbon, refilling shot glasses for almost everyone. One player held out his hand, palm down to indicate that he didn’t want another.
The man with the shortest stack downed his shot in one, then hit the glass on the table for a refill. Like I was a dealer. His stack was almost through to the baize. His forehead was moist. I didn’t need my Daddy’s eye to know that this was a man in trouble.
Hammer spoke in a low, soft voice to him as he slung down the second shot, “Easy, Midge.” Midge just snarled. He was a small man with hard, dark eyes. His sharp, angular jaw tensed and flexed and his thin lips were pressed tight.
He knocked his glass on the table again. I looked to Hammer for guidance but he didn’t look up. I turned my head to see if Jascinta would give me a hint, but I could hardly see her and her face was in shadow.
I poured Midge a shot like he wanted. He let it sit.
The hand played out. At the end there were just Hawk and one of the bikers with a smaller stack. As Hawk laid out the last card and won, a look passed quickly over Hammer’s face.
Daddy said, When you sit down at a poker table, spot the mark. If you haven’t made them in three hands, get up and leave, because it’s you. Here, Midge was the mark.
A couple of hands passed and I stayed as far back as I could. I kept close to the wall, and behind Hawk. When drinks ran down I refilled them.
A hefty biker with evil, narrow shades and a thin mustache stood as he pushed his remaining chips forward and went all-in. He lost, but he shook hands with all the other players, although Midge didn’t display much grace.
As the man left, the biker gave me five dollars and a smile. He handed something to Jascinta, too. Hammer waved with a short, fat cigar and said, “Tell Beanie there’s a seat if he wants it.”
Midge took two shots of bourbon in a row. He was noisier in the next hand, complaining about his position, about a raise and obviously hating his cards. As he hadn’t enough chips for a big bet, he wouldn’t stay in the game without going all-in and winning, and the opportunity wasn’t coming up for him.
He needed to have show cards for a believable bluff at least, and he didn’t get them for that hand or the next. Hawk won steadily. Steadily enough that I was sure he made Hammer suspicious.
Beanie opened the door and greeted the bikers as he came in. When he saw me in the shadows, his pretty eyes flicked through an eager recognition then pleasure and then concern before he settled in his chair. His didn’t look like a winning poker face to me.
Heartbreakingly gorgeous, but not a face for keeping secrets.
Midge’s mood lightened as he shoved his chips all in. He was calm and he even smiled. That left him out of the betting rounds and he stood up as the betting went around the table.
When Hawk laid out the three cards of the flop, the other bikers folded one by one. Only Hammer, Midge and Hawk remained in for the final two cards, the turn card and the river.
The turn card put Hammer out. A wide smile spread over Midge’s thin face as Hawk turned over the river card. It was a red king. The room fell quiet.
Hawk turned his cards two cards over and they were both kings. Chairs scraped and Midge’s face darkened. He lunged forward at Hawk.
Hammer was up with his arm out in front of Midge, “You know that Hawk is a guest here, Midge. Say whatever you have to say, but maintain respect.”
Midge’s face reddened. Hammer voice was low and firm. “Hawk, as you are a guest from another club, and one with rank, there is no way that I would insult you and call you a cheat.”
Hawk’s eyes danced. His jaw clenched.
“So, if you were to cheat,” Hammer went on evenly, “I’d have no other option than to kill you.”
Hawks lips tightened and he bared his teeth. “Big talk, Hammer.” A grin widened across his face. Midge shook with his whitening knuckles on the green felt of the table.
Hammer said, “So, Hawk, you want to play that hand again, or is there maybe something you’d want to share with us. Something tucked in your right cuff perhaps?”
Hawk’s buckles jingled and the leather creaked as he stood. All of the bikers’ chairs slid back and they all rose immediately. Hawk reached into his sleeve. The left sleeve, though, not the right.
“Why don’t we share this, motherfucker.”
He produced a long, wide, glinting blade.
The other bikers all moved back to clear space. Hawk held the blade towards Hammer. The tip pointed at Hammer’s face. “I’ll have this end,” Hawk growled, “you can have the other,” and he waved the blade.
Beanie was near, and he made a move towards Hawk. With no sign of hurry, Hammer lifted a hand. Beanie stopped. Hammer took an easy step around the table to Hawk. Hawk turned to keep his face to Hammer. The point of the knife stayed aimed at Hammer’s nose.
Hawk shifted his grip on the handle and Hammer paused in front of him. Hammer’s expression softened and his voice quieted. “We don’t pull weapons in the clubhouse, Hawk.”
“You call a man a cheat, you’ll need to back it up, Hammer.”
“You know I’m ready to do that, Hawk,” Hammer’s tone was mild. Easy. “You want to make a beef, we can take it to the barn.”
Hawk snarled, “You afraid to fight me like a man, Hammer?”
“No, Hawk,” Hammer sounded like he was speaking kindly to a child, “If that’s what you want, that’s how we’ll settle it. Man to man and hand to hand.” He held Hawk’s eye. “Not with blades, though. And not in the clubhouse.”
Hawk looked back at him. His grip moved on the knife handle and the blade twitched. It swished as it cut through the air when he pulled the blade down by his side.
Hammer’s smile was gentle. “The barn then, Hawk?” Hawk nodded.
Hammer stretched his arm towards the door and his body turned. Hawk lunged with the blade forwards.
Beanie brought his hands down fast on Hawk’s arm and twisted it back. Beanie’s head snapped back as the cutting edge swished past his face.
He twisted Hawk’s arm and the big knife clattered to the floor.
Beanie’s lips tightened as he held his grip on Hawk’s arm. Veins pumped on Hawk’s red face as he stared into Beanie’s eye. He was a lot wider and heavier than Beanie.
Hammer smiled and laid a big hand gently on Hawk’s shoulder. “A bout on the canvas is just the relaxation you need.”
The other bikers watched Hawk. One had scooped up the knife and it was out of sight now. Their eyes all flicked to Beanie, like they were seeing him in a new light.
Hammer held the door open. His voice raised and it was like a rumble of distant thunder. “A’ight. We end this. Now.”
Smoke thickened the dark air in the high barn. Muffled echoes swelled as bikers came in from the clubhouse. They sensed the fight
coming.
At the far end, Hammer paced and prowled the perimeter of the low platform. Stripped out of his shirt, his powerful muscles rippled under the storybook of ink that ranged over the ridges of his torso. His hands were wrapped tight in white linen tape.
A sheen caught the light as the damp skin on his six-pack rolled with his easy prowl. As Hammer’s muscles flexed, my breath caught in my throat. A pungent, earthy musk wafted on the air.
Jascinta’s honeyed voice in my ear startled me. “Careful what you wish for, Belle.” Her eyes smoldered. I couldn’t tell if she was giving me a warning me for my own sake, or if she had an agenda of her own.
My knees felt weak and I was drawn to the stage. The little skirt seemed more inadequate than ever now and I felt the air move around the tops of my thighs. It was a shock to realize how hot I was down there. And how wet. My mouth was dry and I licked my lips. Probably too much.
Hawk was off the podium to one side. Stripped to the waist, his massive chest heaved and glistened. Angular patterns of ink on the bulges of his pecs and his rippling biceps were frosted with tiny drops of moisture.
Under his dark, heavy brow, his hard eyes swept the room and penetrated the smoky gloom.
He pulled strips of tape taught over his knuckles and his big hands. Over the thickness of his neck and the mounds of his shoulders, an angry rash spread in a ‘V’ down his back. His arms and his chest were massive. As he limbered up, his movements were angular, explosive jolts.
Bikers crowded the front of the platform. Beanie hung at the edge. Midge skulked alone in the shadows by the wall. I was pressed in the crowd but still I pushed forwards, drawn by the tension.
Hammer kept his eyes downwards, but the surge around him was clearly a home crowd. A rustle waved through the throng and my thighs trembled as Hawk’s bulk bounded up onto the platform.
He was thicker, taller and heavier than Hammer, by a lot. The two men circled each other. It looked like the beginning of a long dance.
Then Hawk lunged and slung a fast backhand at Hammer. Hammer moved back to dodge and Hawk slammed a fist in his path.
Caught on the side of the head, Hammer faltered as he moved back. He retreated fast. Hawk moved in with one hand out and a fist cocked.
Hammer was ready and powered a low blow into Hawk's stomach. Hawk didn't falter and lashed out straight at Hammer's jaw. Hammer dodged him, but he had to retreat once more.
Carlie slid in through the knot of bikers at the edge of the podium. She wriggled as she passed each man. Tense furrows creased the foreheads of the bikers and they shouted, waved their fists. All the men that I heard were shouting for Hammer.
Carlie squeezed her way to the front. Still naked under the bike jacket, the shreds of her sheer panties still hanging from her waist, she leaned forward with her hands on the podium. She shouted encouragement to Hammer. At least, that was what it sounded like. Her words were unrecognizable and her mouth slackened open.
Hammer was still dodging. He connected two savage blows, one on the side of Hawk’s head and another one hard on his chin. The bigger man barely registered the force.
Hawk’s eyes flashed and his movements sped up. He fired off jabs at a rattling rate. He didn't land many, but every contact he made rang in the dusty barn like a dark omen.
Carlie writhed and sprang like she was electrified. She squealed and her hands spread back over all the men nearby. Her legs were farther apart. Her ass rubbed and writhed against the bikers behind her.
She shouted every time Hammer ducked or feinted. When Hawk got a fist on Hammer, she howled and groaned.
The two men lunged at each other and collided to grapple. Rapid elbows and knees cannoned in and out of the four-legged bundle, until they rolled to the mat and over.
Hammer was on top and slammed both fists at the side of Hawk's head. Hawk's forearm craned almost lazily up to knock Hammer to the floor and Hawk rolled on top of him.
Hammer's knee jerked into Hawk's gut. Hawk wrenched Hammer's leg. Hammer tried to roll Hawk over, but the man was too heavy.
Hammer's wrist landed at the side of Hawk's temple. Hawk didn't even notice as he threw down his forearm at Hammer's face. Hammer jerked and barely evaded him.
Hawk bounced on Hammer's chest. The thud and the wet, sinuous crunch were sickening. Carlie banged her fists on the canvas and she yowled. The biker behind her rubbed the hard mound in his denims right into the crack of her pert ass.
Hawk's eyes stretched wider and wilder. They bulged, bloodshot and his lips curled back. He heard Carlie shout and slam her hand on the canvas and he started towards her.
Hammer took the chance to slide himself free. As he hauled himself up to his feet, Hawk barely registered that he was moving. Then a manic fury lit his face and he puffed even redder.
Both arms came up and back, over his head. His hands were gripped. He was poised to bring his whole weight and strength down on Carlie. She looked up, frozen and her jaw sagged.
Hammer swung his arms out to the left and clasped his hands together, like a southpaw at bat. He paused a spilt second and then swung.
Hammer's two fists slammed the side of Hawk's throat. Hawk sagged like he'd been poleaxed. He swung on his knees and fell like a pine tree.
Hawk's head dropped towards the edge of the podium. Hammer lunged forward to catch him. He gently turned the unconscious biker over and his ear went quickly to Hawk's chest.
Hawk was carried back into the clubhouse, to a room in he back with a cot. Carlie and Hammer were more concerned bout him than anyone else. The anxiety on Carlie's face was touching, considering that he might have crushed her if Hammer hadn't laid him out.
On the way to the room, I said to Hammer, “Hawk got lost in a ’roid rage, right?”
He looked in my eyes like he was seeing me for the first time and he nodded. Some of Larry’s card-playing buddies used anabolic steroids. The redness and the violent mood-swings were always the clues to stay out of the way, when hey had been doing too many.
Jascinta had given the whole group of us some pretty intense looks as we closed the door to the room, but she made no move to join us.
My legs still trembled and my breath shook. Hammer’s tenderness in caring for Hawk made me want to wrap my body around him and slide down the slopes of his pulsing muscles.
As Hawk groaned and blinked, his hard eye fixed on me and my hand went up to my throat, then through my hair. My hand shook as I reached for the bourbon bottle. I took a slug straight from the neck. Hawk’s jeans tightened from the huge bulge at the front. It stirred as I watched.
Beanie held Carlie’s shoulders and I handed her the bottle. As she took it, her hand touched mine. I almost jumped, I was so charged up and hyper-sensitive. Carlie gave me her pretty smile as she stroked Beanie’s ass and pulled him to her.
Hammer’s voice was soft and low. “You okay, Hawk?”
“Yeah,” he leaned up on his elbows. “I guess the bout was yours, Hammer. I got no beef about it.”
He shook his head and said, “I feel kind of an ass about the card game, bro.”
Hammer said, “Hawk, it’s all done.” He paused for a moment. He looked into Hawk’s eyes. “You got to ride your own road, and I’m not one to judge. You might want to ease off on the ’roids, though.”
“I’ve been pushing the training some. Could be I’ve been overdoing it.” My stomach melted a little when he said to Beanie, “You stepped up there, bro. Sorry about the blade.”
Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2) Page 21
