Hawke

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Authors: R.J. Lewis

BOOK: Hawke
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HAWKE

 

By R.J. Lewis

 

For Hibba and Maya, who listened to my mumblings and psychotic rants and told me to relax.

Damn your positive attitudes.

I will not relax.

 

Prologue

 

Take care.

Take care of her.

I took it.

I took.

Don’t trust.

Don’t trust.

Don’t…

one

 

Tyler

 

I blamed myself often for being responsible for Hawke’s incarceration. If I had changed things that day – if I had gone out sooner rather than later – he never would have found himself behind bars.

I was thirteen, and it was a warm autumn day. The leaves had only just begun changing and the wind was cool. I was walking back from the deli, sandwich in my hand, moving in the direction of the clubhouse as my footsteps crunched softly on the leaves scattered along the sidewalk.

I remembered my heart feeling heavy, and I kept rubbing my chest, struggling to breathe through the pain.

It’d been exactly one year since my father had been killed, and I was besieged with sadness. I was still trying to figure out my place in the world without him there to guide me. I’d tried to be brave, but I wasn’t strong like the others. I couldn’t not cry, and I hated that I carried my emotions on my sleeve.

I didn’t hear him creep up on me. I didn’t know how long he’d been there until he finally spoke out.

“Hello Tyler.”

I turned my head just as an officer (or cockroach as the club called them) pulled up beside me in his police vehicle. I recognized him and knew he wasn’t a nice guy, but I couldn’t remember his name. It was Brinsky or Hinsky, or something along those lines.

He was also corrupt as they come.

“How are you, honey?” he asked with an insincere smile.

“Fine,” I answered simply.

“You wouldn’t be heading down to that Warlord clubhouse?”

I shot him a wary look. “I am.”

“Is that a smart idea, angel?”

“It’s my home.”

“Oh, but sweetheart,” he said, cruelly, “it’s not your home. You have a home somewhere else, don’t you, with your whore of a mother. Is she still drinking herself to sleep every night? How is she doing these days now that your daddy is dead? You know he died real bad, don’t you? And you know what happens to people when they die?”

I just stared at him.

He smirked. “They go all gross and shit. Maggots feast on their eyeballs, sucking up their juices. Don’t look at me like that. I
know
what I’m talking about – I’ve
seen
it! That old man of yours? He’s probably got ‘em crawling out of his eye sockets and out of his nose and mouth, and probably out of every one of them bullet holes in his body. His skin’s all decayed and shit, and I think his insides are gone right about now, but I’m not a wiz with decomposition, so what the fuck do I know?”

My stomach twisted, and my hands shook.

“I hear he suffered,” he continued, smugly, “sort of like the way you’ll suffer if you keep hanging around that bad crowd of devil worshippers. They’ll whore you out too, you know. That’s all they’re good for, and I’m sure there’s a market for little jail bait girls like you.”

White hot rage flowed through me.

“It’d be sad seeing a pretty little girl like you used as a cum bucket. You still a virgin, or has that young hole been used –”

Without thinking, I threw my sandwich at him and it smacked into his face, causing him to press down on the brakes abruptly. The car came to a screeching stop, and I smiled maliciously at him as he wiped the ham and cheese off his face, leaving behind a slimy residue.

“Hawke says that men who talk too much are insecure cunts looking for something to prove,” I told him. “He also said if they disrespect me, he’ll cut their throats clean off their heads.”

Cockroach was pissed. “You trailer trash bitch, I’ll beat you.”

“Yeah, well I don’t see you stepping out of your car. Are you afraid to knowing who I am?”

He looked around the streets before he narrowed his eyes at me and said, “You think you’re so special because your
president
” – sneer – “is by your side all the time? Well, Hawke’s going down, girl. A little birdy told me he’s going to prison, and when he’s gone, I’m coming after you and you can join daddy in the grave and have maggots crawling out of your eyes together.”

I swallowed the pain his words inflicted on me, determined not to show it. “Do you feel like a big bad man talking to me like that?”

“Shut your whoring mouth, little girl.”

“You’re so bent on talking to me but you can’t handle what I have to say?”

“I said shut your fucking mouth.”

“The girls around here complain about you,” I went on, unconcerned that he was turning red. “They say you like it rough because you’re trying to compensate for your tiny dick.”

That wasn’t true.

I had no idea what the girls said.

But having grown up around foul-mouthed men, their insults had rubbed off on me and I wasn’t about to let him know his words had hurt that deep part in me; it was a part that was now envisioning my father being feasted on by maggots.

By now he wasn’t just pissed, he was shaking from it. He opened the driver’s side door, surprising me for a second because I didn’t realize his seatbelt had been off the entire time. I turned, was about to run when he closed in on me and grabbed me by the hair. He threw me to the ground in one swing.

I went down awkwardly, my legs bent in a weird angle as I struggled moving, kicking wildly as he brought his face to mine, still gooey from my sandwich, and seethed, “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you, with your dirty little mouth?” His hands travelled down my body, grabbing at the spot between my legs and he gripped it hard, causing me to wince. He dug his fingers in that spot, violating me in a way nobody else had ever done.

Don’t cry. Don’t beg. Don’t show him you’re weak.

I struggled and he looked smug, overpowering me effortlessly while he continued his assault. He was big and strong, and his breath smelled like cigarettes as he puffed his breaths in my face, looking remarkably giddy that I was defenceless.

“Let me go,” I demanded, my voice low and firm.

“Why don’t you say that a little louder?” he retorted.

I didn’t. I repeated my words slower this time. “Let. Me. Go.”

He pulled at my hair, and strands ripped from my scalp, but I kept my lips closed, not letting him know how pained I felt. His eyes darkened at that.

“Oh, I get it now,” he mused. “You’re one of them quiet bitches, huh?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ve had quiet little bitches like you for dinner, and you wanna know what quiet little bitches like you are like?” His mouth stretched in a wicked smile. “You scream
louder
than all the others.”

I sucked in a breath and spat in his face. He punched me in the eye and my head dropped back, slamming against the cement.

“You feel that pain? You’ll get used to it when I’m fucking your little body in half. Do you know what I’m like, little girl? Do you know the kind of shit I have gotten away with because of this fuckin’ badge, bitch? I ain’t scared of your stupid fucking club. Hell, I’ll take your tiny little cunt right here –”

The roar of a motorcycle cut him off. My vision was spotted and I turned my head, vaguely seeing a Harley come bounding our way, turning as it passed us and stopping right in front of the police car. A massive figure quickly climbed off, followed by the black helmet.

Hawke.

Instantly, I felt safe.

Fury engulfed his features. He looked at me on the ground first, surveying the situation mutely before he slid his icy eyes to Cockroach.

Cockroach let go of my hair and casually stood up, dusting his pants clean as he said, “You need to watch your girls, teach them about assaulting an officer in broad daylight.”

Hawke stared at him for a short moment, his plump lips closed, his dark eyes narrowed. Then he turned back to me.

“Was he followin’ you, darlin’?” he asked me, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Did he disrespect you?”

“Yes,” I repeated, cutting my glare at Cockroach. “He did.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Yes, he shoved me to the ground.”

Just as I said that another chorus of bikes came speeding down the road, circling around the car and us and coming to a stop.

Another figure jumped off his bike and the helmet came straight off.

It was Hector, the younger version of Hawke.

“Oh, fuck me, it’s Helinsky,” he announced. “Stepping on Warlord territory again. This is the man I’ve been telling you about, brother. He’s been cuttin’ our girls up; took a swing at Gina the other night and left her bleeding in bed. Real sick fuck.”

Hawke’s face hardened as he looked back at me and then at the cop. “Was he tryin’ to force you in the car, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Did he touch you?”

I let out another breath. “Yes.” My face went red, and my lips trembled, both from anger and humiliation. “He” –
stuck his fingers inside me
– “was telling me I’m going to have maggots feasting on my eyes like Dad after I painted his face with my sandwich.”

“You wasted your sandwich on his face?”

“I did.”

“How much did that sandwich cost you?”

“Three dollars and seventy-five cents.”

“You wasted almost four dollars on this piece of shit?”

I nodded.

“So how’d you end up on the ground with him hitting you?”

Cockroach opened his mouth. “She assaulted –”

“Shut up,” Hawke cut in, keeping his eyes on me.

I brushed the hair from my face and sat up, shaking my head again to clear my vision. “I didn’t
assault
him. I verbally
insulted
his dick by calling it tiny.”

Snickers fell out of the mouths of all the others.

Hawke’s lips curled up, and even sitting there on the ground and in pain, I felt flutters inside my chest. My heart didn’t feel so heavy after that smile. He always made things alright, ever since my father died and he took me into the arms of the club.

He was my protector.

As Hawke moved to me, Helinsky walked backwards to his car; all the while he was smirking like he was untouchable.

“Hector,” Hawke said as he stopped in front of me, “don’t let the cockroach get too far.”

Hector blocked the driver’s side of the car with his body and Helinsky was forced to stop. He shot Hawke a look of confusion. “You can’t touch me,” he growled. “I’m a fucking cop! You can’t touch a fucking cop!”

Ignoring him, Hawke kneeled down next to me and leaned his head in, his stubble brushing against my cheek before he whispered in my ear, “Did he touch you down there, Tyler? Because you’re squeezin’ your legs shut real tight and lookin’ like a ghost.”

I fought back the sudden tears that sprang to my eyes and slowly stiffened a nod.

I heard him growl deep in his throat. “You know what happens to somebody when they disrespect you, right?”

I nodded my head slowly again.

He looked down at the helmet in his hand and I noticed his grip tightening.

“I wouldn’t normally do this, Tyler, but I’m really angry right now,” he explained calmly, his nostrils flaring. “I’m trying to rein it in, but darling, I’m not doing too well.”

I blinked and winced, covering the eye he’d punched.

“You alright?” Hawke asked me, concerned.

“I’m fine,” I answered.

“Why are you touching your eye?”

“No reason.”

His face darkened even more, and he looked frightening as he asked me, “He hit you there too?”

I blinked again, feeling my eye throb. “Hawke, don’t do anything stupid.”

His jaw tensed. “Too late. My mind was made up the second I saw you pinned beneath him.”

“But –”

“Cover your ears,” he instructed, “and close your eyes for me, Tyler.”

My heart picked up as he took my hands into his massive ones and raised them to my ears. I looked up at him, and his face purposely softened for me. Then he brushed my cheek in a comforting way with his thumb before I shut my eyes.

Almost immediately I felt his body leave mine, and then Helinsky shouted something out and I couldn’t help but open my eyes fleetingly just as Hawke raised his helmet and smashed it against his head. My insides seized and I shut my eyes again, squeezing them shut, sucking in air as that one second scene turned into a never ending reel inside my head.

Not a minute later, Hawke’s hands wrapped around my shoulders. He stood me up and steered me away, pulling down my hands. As I began to turn my head back to see what was happening, he took me by the chin before I could and forced it forward.

“Keep your eyes forward,” he told me.

He took me to his Harley and, as I heard the sounds of painful grunts and something hitting flesh, Hawke put another helmet over my head.

“Let’s get you another sandwich, Ty,” he said casually.

He jumped on his bike and I climbed on after him, my arms wrapped around his hard front, holding him tightly as I pressed my chest against his back.

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