The next few days pass in a whirlwind for Melissa. Being with Hawk isn’t just about being with him; it means being part of the club lifestyle. The Kings accept her in a way she never could have imagined. She’d grown up as an only child and, now, she has more brothers than she can shake a stick at. It’s not hard to understand the appeal of being a King. Hell, even she and Felicia are getting along.
That said, Melissa isn’t blind to the less-than-legal side of the club. There’s no way of avoiding it. She and Hawk have spent every night together since that first explosive time at his place. It’s clear trust doesn’t come easily to him, but slowly he’s opened up to her about what he does for the club. He’s had to slip out of bed at odd times, summoned by a message on his cell. His main role as a prospect is to be an escort runner; he’d explained that he rides at the head of protection details for any shipments that the club is running. Melissa knows shipment is code for guns or drugs. But she tries not to think about that part.
The other Kings haven’t stopped championing Hawk to her, as if they needed to sell him to her, but she was already sold.
“He’s tough as nails.”
“That kid’s got some serious smarts on him.”
“He’s the best prospect we’ve ever had. That kid’ll be running the club someday.”
Although Hawk isn’t a fully-fledged member of the club, the other men treat him with a respect they don’t afford to just anyone. It’s clear they’re grooming him for greatness. One night, she’d asked him if he would ever leave the Kings. He’d seemed shocked at her question and she’d instantly regretted asking it.
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted. My whole life has been focused on becoming a King. It’s the only thing I know, the only thing I can be sure of.” He’d said the words so simply, so sincerely that Melissa was left in no doubt. The club is a part of Hawk as much as Hawk is a part of the club. His words had stung a little, that the club would always be the biggest part of his life, that it would be more important to him than anything else, even her. She’d spent a couple of sleepless nights tossing and turning after that conversation, trying to figure out where the hell that left her and her story. But she had already made her decision.
Bright and early on Friday morning she finds herself outside DeVry’s office. It’s hard to believe it has only been a week since he gave her the assignment. It feels like so much time has passed since then. The last time she was there, Hawk hadn’t been in her life, the Kings hadn’t been in her life, and, now, it’s hard to imagine her life without them.
“He said you could go straight in, honey.” Olivia’s kind voice cuts through Melissa’s musings and she nods her thanks at the older woman.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door, steeling herself for the conversation she’s been dreading. DeVry is sitting behind his enormous desk, his eyes red, his suit jacket discarded, with more than a few days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. He looks worse than he did the last time she’d seen him and absently Melissa wonders how much longer he’s going to be sleeping in his office.
“What have you got for me, Potter?” He doesn’t look at her as he asks the question, searching through a stack of papers on his desk. It doesn’t seem like he got the memo that paper was becoming obsolete.
Melissa takes a deep breath, drawing on her reserves of calm that Clay has taught her to cultivate like a good martial arts fighter. “Nothing.”
DeVry stops what he’s doing and slowly looks at her, as if he thinks that he’s misunderstood. “Say again.”
She straightens her back in her chair, refusing to be cowed. “I can’t write the article on the Kings that you want.”
He leans back against his chair, surveying her with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t get any information? I thought you’d found a way in to the gang.”
Melissa curses herself for the update she’d sent him the morning after meeting Hawk. She’d been so keen to convince herself that all she wanted was to write a good story that she’d told DeVry about finding an ‘in’ to the Kings. “I was wrong.” She swallows the bitter pill. “You want me to write an exposé that paints these men as monsters. I can’t do that.”
DeVry looks at her with pity. “You know that these men are criminals? They’re not Care Bears; they’re an outlaw biker gang!”
Melissa shakes her head. She just can’t see them that way. “I’ve gotten to know them; they’re good people. You said yourself that they keep the violence contained, away from populated areas. I can’t write something that’ll make them out to be the enemy, just to sell more newspapers. You and I both know that whatever I write will just bring more heat down on them from ATF, the Feds, and God knows who else. I can’t do that to them.”
DeVry raises an eyebrow at her. “Them or him?”
Melissa looks at him, her eyes wide. “How do you know about that?”
DeVry just shrugs laconically. “Just a lucky guess.” Melissa doesn’t believe him but she doesn’t get a chance to tell him so. “If you can’t write the story then you can’t write it. We’ll have to figure something else out.” His tone is calm and reasonable, two words that Melissa would never have used to describe her Editor.
“So, we’re good here?” She can’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Sure.” He shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “There’s a new skating rink opening, some kids charity thing. I want you to cover it, Olivia will give you the details.” From a groundbreaking exposé that could kick-start her career to a puff piece that only the soccer moms will read in one fell swoop. DeVry waves her away, dismissing her, and Melissa can’t help but wonder if she’s just committed career suicide.