Hawke (20 page)

Hawke

Hawke parked his motorcycle out front of a tiny white house. From the outside, it looked like any house on the quiet, old street. The yard needed trimming and the fence’s white paint had mostly peeled off.

Hawke frowned as he stepped off his bike and looked around. The condition was nowhere near what it had been years ago. Everything looked all wrong. The white concrete bordering the front of the house had yellowed, and the tree that sat next to the house was overgrown, its fallen leaves from who knows how long ago clogging up the gutters.

He walked to the gate, and its hinges creaked as he opened it and moved down the path to the porch. When he got to the front, he pressed the doorbell, but nothing sounded. He hit it again, this time harder. When there was still nothing, he grunted in irritation and opened the screen door, pounding on the front door.

He was pissed.

This place wasn’t meant to look like this.

Fucking Hector.

The door creaked open, enough for the head of a shotgun to poke out.

“Get off my land,” growled a voice. “I ain’t sellin’!”

Despite being pissed, Hawke’s mouth quirked up. “It’s me, and I ain’t buyin’ this house knowin’ the assholes that ran amuck in there, drawin’ on walls and stompin’ holes into the floor.”

There was a moment of stillness. Seconds passed before the gun dropped and the door slowly creaked open. A dark and white headed woman poked her head out and stared at him with huge brown eyes. Her mouth fell open, and all at once her eyes watered.

“Hawke,” she pressed out, sniffing, looking him up and down. “Is that really my little boy lookin’ like a drugged up hobo on my front porch?”

Same old humor.

Hawke chuckled deep in his throat. “I wouldn’t say I’m little, and I ain’t on drugs either.”

Immediately she grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to her. Her frame was only tiny, but she was stronger than she looked. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair and face like he wasn’t some grown ass man but a little boy.

Hawke let out a long breath, hugging her back. The smell of her took him back to a time before his world was black and filled with blood.

When he got lonely, and he felt like there was a sick, twisted monster moving around inside him, he came here.

And he hadn’t been here in three years.

Adella shut the door the second he was in. She used the sleeve of her night gown to wipe at her tears before she ushered him along, through the tiny living room and into the equally tiny kitchen.

“Sit down, my boy,” she ordered him, already rummaging through the cupboards.

He collapsed in the kitchen chair and watched her move. The kitchen was a bombsite. The floor and counters were covered in crap. His mother had always been a hoarder, and just plain messy. She’d always claimed it was organized chaos, but that organized chaos was up to her ankles in crap.

“Let me make you something,” she said, already flushed in the face. “Are you hungry? What would you like? I can make you Gringas, or you can have leftover stew from last night –”

“I want you to sit down,” he interrupted, motioning to the chair next to him. “I can’t be here for long, Ma.”

She was trembling when she got to the chair and sat down. Her small hand shot out to his, and she squeezed it tightly, gazing at him in astonishment.

“I missed you, I missed you,” she repeated sadly, looking him over as she clutched the cross around her necklace with her other hand. “I pray for you. I tell Jesus to look after my son, and I always feel warmth in my heart, like he’s telling me you’re okay. Now you’re here, in one piece, like my prayers have been answered. How have you been, my boy?”

“Everything is fine,” he replied steadfastly. “You takin’ care of yourself?”

“I’m makin’ it by just fine.”

“The house doesn’t look too great.”

“I’m pushin’ sixty and my limbs ache when I move. I ain’t no spring chicken, Hawke. Looking after the place is harder these days.”

“Where’s Hector in this, Ma? I thought he was supposed to help you out.”

She nodded. “He is, he is. He gives me money, he takes me to the doctor for my diabetes and he’s got some lady comin’ around to do my laundry and buy me groceries. I got clean clothes, food, and my medicine, and that’s all that matters.”

“But the house –”

“Houses get old, Hawke,” she interrupted, waving the argument off with her hand. “They don’t last forever. You can take care of one every minute of every day, but it’s no way to live life, and you never end up on top of it. Things fall apart left and right. It’s a never ending battle, and I’m only here for a short amount of time. It’s a stress that makes no sense at the end of it all.”

Hawke sighed, not bothering to respond.

Adella was stubborn like him, and she never complained. Even when his father put her through hell with his unfaithfulness and violent temper, she stood up for herself and never backed down. It was why he had barely come home most nights; he didn’t want to deal with a raging wife.

Hawke suddenly wondered how he let his old man make him abandon his mother to join the club life. What in the fuck did he see in him to make him want to leave it all behind at fourteen?

Adella stood back up shortly after, determined to make him eat something.

Pulling out the leftovers from the fridge, she warmed him up some stew and gave him a wet kiss on the face.

“You need to get rid of this fur,” she told him, running her hand through his beard. “It’s looking like a nest. How are you going to get married and give me grandbabies? No girl is going to look at you seriously with this.”

Hawke smirked. “You’d be surprised. Women love it.”

“Yeah because they’re little whores. I want a nice girl. You should see how grown up Dennis’ daughter is now.”

Hawke’s chest went tight and he looked at her strangely. “How do you know about Tyler these days?”

She smiled thoughtfully. “She always comes around with Hector, gives me these beautiful lilies and mint chocolates I like but can’t find around here. You want a girl who can handle herself? She’s got it all, and she’s still a goddamn lady about it. No belly tops or ass hanging outta her shorts like she’s beggin’ for attention. You should take note what a woman is really like. Modest and tame, but also feisty and sexy when she wants to be. Don’t be takin’ home anymore strippers from that club you work at.”

Hawke didn’t want to talk about Tyler, but fuck, she plagued his head, and it didn’t help his mother was talking about her. His mother was a hard ass and she actually liked a girl? And not just
a
girl, but
the
girl that had been haunting Hawke since the second he left her wet with his come in bed.

What the fuck?

But maybe that was just the power with Tyler. She had such a way with people. Nobody loathed her. She wasn’t catty, she didn’t backstab, she minded her own business and was loyal to a fault.

Fuck, he already missed the taste of her lips.

“I don’t take home strippers,” Hawke vaguely said, steering the conversation away from Tyler. “Borden’s got lap dancers, and they swing from a pole, sure, but they don’t get fully naked unless you’re getting a private showing.”

“Do I wanna know, you shit head?”

Hawke smirked. “You raised me to be a man, Ma, not a priest.”

She shoved the bowl closer to him, motioning him this time to eat before she replied, “I can’t be responsible for you being a man, Hawke. That was your father’s doing, and I should have fought harder to keep you away –”

“You couldn’t do anything,” he cut in, solemnly. “Some things were outta your control, but you taught me things nonetheless.”

Things that made his conscience heavy with regret.

She looked away from him, not meeting his eye. “I wish I felt that way.”

His mother had tried to give him and Hector a straight life. For a while, she’d done a good job sending them to a private school on her own dime so his father didn’t know about it. They’d done well too. It turned out Hector had a gift with numbers and Hawke could build anything with his hands.

Unfortunately, shit didn’t work out the way his mother wanted it to.

His old man found out and pulled them out of school. Convinced they were soft, he brought them into the club, and while Hawke was fourteen, he was aware of what went on inside closed doors.

But Hector?

He’d been twelve and impressionable, and the second he stepped foot inside the clubhouse Red had thrown a girl his way, telling him to be a man. Ever since, Hector couldn’t give up the pussy and Hawke could kill anything that had a pulse with just his bare hands.

It was one of the reasons he didn’t deserve Tyler.

The other reason would destroy her.

“She wants me, you know,” he said before he could stop himself.

Adella stilled and looked at him confusedly. “A stripper wants you?”

He chuckled dryly. “No, Ma, Tyler.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, she…she wants me badly. She looks at me in this way and…” He paused and rubbed at the back of his neck. He’d never talked girls to his mother, or to anyone for that matter. This shit was weird.

She took a few moments processing his words and then she smiled warmly at him. “Why are you so surprised that someone wants you?”

“Not just someone, this is Tyler we’re talking about here. She’s ridiculously sweet, and it fucks with my head. I can’t think straight around her, and it makes it harder.”

“What’s so hard? You both want each other and you should pursue that.”

“No,” he firmly said, shaking his head as he looked at her seriously. “Not after the lies. She would never forgive me if she knew...”

“You lied because you had to.”

“That’s not good enough.”

His mother frowned. “You’re a Navarro,” she replied. “Navarro boys don’t care about forgiveness. They take what they believe is theirs.”

“That’s really bad advice.”

“They don’t let the woman they want walk away, Hawke.”

“Is that what Dad did? Took you until you hated him so much. See, I don’t want that.”

Adella shook her head slowly. “Power and corruption found its way into your father’s soul, and that’s what changed everything. It’s what’s going to happen to Hector if you don’t put a stop to it. I’m not proud of that boy. He needs a woman.”

“He’s not the type.”

“Every man has a woman out there ready to drop him to his knees.”

Hawke laughed lightly. “Maybe.”

Maybe meaning
no
.

Hector would never, ever settle. He was a loose cannon, a giant question mark that Hawke didn’t know how to fix.

“Are you going back?” his mother asked just then.

“Yeah, Borden is waiting –”

“I was talking about Tyler.”

Hawke went quiet.

“Are you going back?” she pressed, staring at him carefully. “You wouldn’t break that girl’s heart, would you?”

“Ma, as far as I’m concerned, Tyler’s heart was made to be broken. I can’t stop it from happening.”

“She will hate you, but you must be strong for her. You must stand by her and let her hate you. It’ll make her feel better.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe meaning…
maybe
.

*

He stayed back until night, and he tucked his mother into bed and kissed her on the forehead.

“How did we get here, Hawke,” Adella asked sadly, staring at his damaged hand just before she fell asleep. “What could we have done differently?”

He frowned, thinking of her question.

He’d never been given the choice.

“Nothing,” he finally said, looking blankly back at her. “There was nothing we could have done, Ma.”

She let out a tear and nodded, staring at him still like he was her little boy.

It was devastating.

The other night he’d murdered a man, removed his eyeballs and almost severed his head with a blunt as fuck knife he’d used to cut rope at the port Borden owned.

And tonight he was soft and tucking his fucking mother into bed like a gentleman would.

It never ceased to amaze him the different lives he led.

He was a loving son to a strong willed woman.

First in command henchman to the city’s most ruthless man.

And the ghost president of a notorious MC that was falling apart at the seams.

He knew one day he would have to simplify his life to make it work.

He just couldn’t figure out what the fuck he wanted.

Hawke

Borden was in the office of his club when Hawke walked in the next morning. His other half Emma was sitting at her desk next to his, eating a ham and cheese sandwich. She looked particularly flushed, the top two buttons of her blouse undone, her dark hair unkempt when it was usually pristine in the mornings.

Hawke had to pause to stare at them after he closed the door behind him. The picture before him was always set in stone.

Emma ignoring Borden.

Borden watching her meticulously as he fiddled with his folders.

Emma catching his glances and smiling slyly.

Borden on the verge of making a demand that would wind up with them fucking like rabbits in the office.

Shit never changed, and it wasn’t a bad thing. Petite fiery Emma with all her faults and annoyances had levelled Borden out so he wasn’t growling at everyone every five seconds. It made for a more pleasant work environment, although Borden was still a hostile motherfucker when he wanted to be.

Once upon a time, Hawke had been wary of her. She’d been a distraction, a temptation to Borden (and even him because she was so fucking beautiful) that had him focusing elsewhere instead of his priorities. A man like Borden made enemies; ones that made Yuri look like a tiny kitten.

“Look who’s graced us with his presence,” Borden muttered, popping a pistachio (what he ate when he was pissed) in his mouth as he scowled in Hawke’s direction. “Glad you could take a break from shit when it suits you, princess.”

“I had club business,” Hawke replied.

“Club business,” he repeated slowly. “You working for me or for those bikers, Hawke? Because now I’m confused.”

Hawke frowned. “You got a port, Borden, and we get our supply shipped in to sell shit to them. I had to up a supply for a customer. The guys needed me.”

“He’s technically still their president,” Emma told Borden quietly.

“Doll, if he was their president he wouldn’t be here, now would he?” Borden replied, looking back at her.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer. “It’s complicated for Hawke. He’s a fugitive. He can’t go back.”

“Yes, he can. It’s been five years since his supposed death, and from what I’ve sniffed, he’s not on anyone’s radar. He can find himself an identity, a legit one, not some fake one some idiot makes in his garage somewhere dirty. It would cost him about a couple hundred grand, but it’s within his means.”

“They’ll recognize him,” she complained.

“He can continue looking like an alpaca, or he can shave that shit off and look exactly like his old self, it wouldn’t make a difference. All you have to do is bribe the authorities, and not the fucking cockroaches on the bottom. I’m talking he’d have to take it to the top, which means he’d need a network, one his club already has, because we all know the fucking authorities aren’t so fucking innocent, either, huh?”

“It wouldn’t work,” she argued. “You’re talking about a shocking amount of money here.”

“If you had it, it would work.”

“Sounds like something out of a movie.”

“Except I’ve done it.”

Emma paused and her jaw dropped. “Fuck off.”

“Fuck off nothing. I’ve done it. Of course I charge an arm and a leg. Couple hundred grand? I make that in interest.”

“You fucker.”

“I am a fucker, and you love that shit.”

She grinned. “I do.”

Fuckin’ hell, these two.

Borden smirked. “So, my point is, doll, if Hawke wanted to go back and lead his feral club, he could. But he doesn’t, which is why he’s here.”

She looked over at Hawke with a curious look. “Why don’t you want to, Hawke?”

Hawke tensed his jaw. “Because it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Aggressive, are we? What’s happened to you to make you flip a switch at that question?”

“With all due respect, Emma, this isn’t an episode of Days of our fucking Lives, alright? I don’t have to unload my feelings and make you understand shit. It’s my business.”

“I ask because I’m concerned.”

“You ask because you’re nosey.”

“That’s part of it, I won’t lie. It’s just…I don’t like your brother. He’s a pussy worshipping jerk.”

“You don’t have to like the people you deal business with, like the fucker I had to deal with. It was Yuri.”

Borden cringed. “I hate that fucker. He’s a creep.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Emma asked, curiously.

“He’s got sick fetishes.”

“Why do you even know that? You always find out this shit.”

“You wanna find out about the people you deal business with? You find out what their sexual triggers are to get a picture of what they’re like. The seedy fuckers like violence, and that loony liked waterboarding shit. Apparently it made him cum like a hose.”

“That’s feral, Borden. God, I’m eating!”

“You asked the question, Emma. He’s a sick fuck.”

Hawke clenched his jaw. “I killed him.”

Emma froze and Borden’s bites slowed as he peered at Hawke curiously now. “You leave for a few days and come back with a death wish?”

“I’ve sorted it out with Abram.”

Borden chuckled dryly. “You are a fucking idiot if you think you got it sorted out with Abram. He’s a liar. He’ll shake your hand and stab you in the throat at the same fucking time.”

“He sends his regards.”

“Couldn’t give a fuck if I tried.” Borden leaned back in his chair, staring hard at Hawke. “You just made yourself an enemy, Hawke. Yuri meant something to that piece of shit.”

“Yuri was unstable and on to me about something.”

“Like what?”

“Tyler.”

Borden’s eyes lit up with understanding. “You’re kidding me.”

Emma looked confusedly between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

Borden didn’t answer. Hawke and him stared at one another for several drawn out moments, silently communicating, and all he saw in Borden’s expression was,
You’re fucked
.

“Emma, can you give Hawke and me a couple minutes?” he asked softly.

She nodded and stood. She was about to leave when he said, “You’re forgetting something, doll.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to appear annoyed but Hawke noticed the blush in her cheeks as she turned around, bent to his level, and kissed him softly on the cheek. Then she walked out.

“Let’s run this over,” Borden started, thoughtfully. “How would Yuri know about Tyler?”

“He shouldn’t.”

“Well, he did obviously.”

Hawke frowned. “It would have to have come from Hector, me, you, or my mother. Those are the only people that know about it.”

“Who in that list is the most probable?”

He hesitated. “Hector.”

Borden nodded. “It’s the only thing that would make sense.”

Hawke rubbed at his face and began to pace the office, feeling his chest tighten as he ran the possibility through. “It doesn’t make sense,” he argued. “It’s not in Hector to betray me like that.”

“Maybe he’s been betraying you all along. Think about it. You excel at being president and he’s stuck in the shadow of your success. Your men revere you and then all of a sudden you’re pinned on a murder with evidence up to the roof –”

“You’re suggesting Hector handed the authorities the video.”

“It’s just a suggestion.”

“It’s not one I believe. Why would he get me out?”

“Because he knew you’d be a fugitive and you’d never be able to return.”

Hawke continued to shake his head, growing more and more frustrated as he went. “I can’t believe that, Borden. It doesn’t work.”

“You can’t believe that, or you don’t
want
to believe that?”

Hawke stopped, glaring at Borden, wanting nothing more than to argue that point but knowing damn straight that he was right.

Still.

He couldn’t get himself to consider it.

“Look,” Borden said calmly, “I’m not going to accuse that manwhore for this. He’s proved his worth time and time again, but…this requires digging.”

“We’ve been digging,” Hawke stressed, exasperated.

“I’ve got more resources to tap into, Hawke. We’re going to find out everything, and I know the answer is sitting in that information. So hold tight and don’t fuck back to that town just yet.”

*

He walked out of the office, stopping in the hallway to smack his forehead against the wall. He took in deep breaths, attempting to keep the suspicions of his brother in the middle of this shit-fest at bay.

Hector wouldn’t.

He just…wouldn’t.

He felt a hand on his back, and smelled Emma’s perfume as she moved next to him, rubbing his back.

“I’ve seen a change in you,” she whispered. “You’ve never come back from that town this shaken up before. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Hawke stiffened a nod.
Tyler happened.

“You’re going to go back, I know it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you can’t keep running away forever. There’s only so much road left until you hit the end.”

Emma would know. She’d had a hard life.

He turned his head and looked at her. “How did you know Borden was it?” he asked her, curiously.

She smiled thoughtfully. “Because as much as I wanted to push him away, he wormed himself inside me. It didn’t happen overnight. It took time, and then…one day it just hit me. His absence made me confront what he meant to me.”

He didn’t respond to that. His head was too clouded with thoughts of Tyler and how she’d grown before his eyes over the years. He’d taken her presence for granted, determined not to focus on her because he knew how beautiful she was inside and out.

Emma was right. Now that Tyler was absent from him, the ache was quickly wearing him down.

If he hadn’t touched her then maybe he would not be so fixated. But…after just one taste, Hawke was hooked.

Tyler was intoxicating.