CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Fuck my troubles away...“ – Hawk

 

 

 

      “What’s got you on edge? More than normal, anyway? You’ve been MIA for more than a day, the same last week and Snake threw a clear insult in church and you left him with his head.”

      Hawk paused wrapping tape around his hands, caught the glance from Rider before his head cranked down to continue winding the tape ignoring the curious look from his best friend and president.

     Around and around he covered his hands in the white tape, tight over his knuckles, wound hard near the thumb so he could pull the gloves on over it. Hawk never minded getting his body busted up, he welcomed the pain sometimes, but this was just sparring. No point in getting broken if he could avoid it.

      Five days after Gia had left the compound and he was still strung out like a junkie jonesing for the needle straight to the femoral artery.

     “Nada.” He spoke finally, grabbing one of the black gloves he shoved his hand inside, followed suit with its mate.

     “Bullshit, Hawk.”

      His shoulder rolled. “I let Snake off this time. Not in the mood for his humor.”

     “Exactly. So, what the fuck is up? Do you need to take off for a while, is it that time again?”

      That time again. He felt like shit that Rider had a term for his fucking neurosis.

      Stillness.

      The air thinned out as Hawk’s lungs hesitated for a second then kick started again.

      He made his body move. To act normal. Whatever that fucking meant.

    Striding his long legs over to the punching bags hung from the ceiling by thick chains he gave it a push first.  The bag weighed close to two hundred pounds, a fair opponent for the rage that lived within Hawk. He swung once more, gentle, testing it out, found his rhythm four punches later making the bag swing with every hard swipe of his fist.

      Rider joined him a minute later. Praying he'd let it drop. Rider was a fucking bulldog with certain crap.  Side by side the two friends worked-out on the bags and Hawk thought Rider had thank-fuck-fully dropped the subject until.

      “Do you need to get away, Hawk? It’s not good fuckin’ time, but we can spare you if that’s what you gotta do.”

      Get away.

      A polite way for the president to say he thought Hawk was losing his shit again and he should take time off to go fuck and beat someone up until he was back to normal.

      Normal. What the fuck was that anyway?  He'd once known a bunch of people who per society were normal when in fact they were the devil himself in disguise.

      At least he was only a highly functioning monster.

      But as he took a side glance at Rider, those penetrating blue eyes trained on him, he was holding the bag with one arm, leaning into it as he surveyed Hawk, he felt his belly coil tight and painful, bile rushing up his oesophagus.

      That’s what normal looked like. Rider was a normal guy. If only.

      He had the little girl now didn’t he, making his life even more normal. Nice.

      Hawk didn’t know what nice felt like. He was too fucked up in his own mind to even try to achieve nice and normal and not with...her.

      Never with her.

      His voice was flat when he replied. “Nothing is wrong, Rider. Drop it, would you? you're creeping me out with the emotions.  I don’t need to get away, if I do I’ll let my president know with plenty of notice.”

      Nothing to do with me thinking of fucking your baby sister until she can’t walk. Or licking her between the legs until my tongue falls off and her thighs squeeze my head so hard she deafens me.

      “I’m not your fuckin’ president right now, you, shithead. I’m your friend and you’re acting like something is up.”

      Hawk deflected, swinging once more at the bag before his own eyes switched to Rider.

      “You going to marry that girl, make her your old lady?”

      “That girl?” Rider’s tone changed from concern to a warning. Darkness staining his tone

      As Hawk, had known it would.

      He knew every brother's trigger.

      Again, his belly tensed. He knew already that girl was going to be sticking around. It wasn't just a sex thing. Rider had it bad.

      “She has a fuckin’ name. Jesus. Is that what this is, you don’t like Zara? For fuck's sake, really, Hawk?”

      He didn’t like her. But that was here nor there. It was nothing personal and all personal. What could he say to Rider that wouldn’t have him pissed off about it?

      “Are you?”

      Rider sighed, using one gloved hand to push the other onto his hand. Eyes still narrowed.

      “If that’s what she wants, eventually. Yeah, I will. Now, you gonna fuckin’ answer me? You got a problem with Zara?”

      “I have no problem.” he lied with ease and zero guilt, after all Rider was the best friend he ever had, the first friend ... he didn't want to hurt him by saying his girl gave him the fucking skin crawl heebies, not because of who she was, because he hadn't taken the time to find out, but what she represented, what she put in front of Hawk's eyes every time he looked at her. She dragged up his own demons until he thought he'd vomit.

      He had so many fucking problems they were stacked ten high, but that was Hawk’s existence and nothing he needed to analyze, he lived with himself, he knew already. No amount of touchy-feely bull shit talking would change it.

      Hawk would rather gouge his own eyes out.

      He respected Rider more than any man, any club brother, but his girl embodied memories he’d prefer to bury in the desert.

      Whenever he looked at her he saw his past ugly and glaringly real all over her sweet normal face. “She’s fine. I don’t know her, Prez.” He added to the room, avoiding Rider’s watchful gaze. 

      “Told you, not your president right now, but you should know, Hawk, I don’t believe a fuckin’ word outta your mouth. And I’ma fill you in real quick because I know you and what you’re not sayin’, and tell you if you hurt my woman in any way we’re gonna have us a problem, you get me? I won’t be your president then either, Hawk. I mean it, do not even fuckin’ look at Zara the wrong way. You are my friend, my best fuckin’ friend, we’ve been through some shit haven’t we, side-by-side, I’d kill for you. But you hurt my woman. Not gonna be happy about it.”

      Hawk snorted not offended. Rider was a bleeding heart. That's what normal looks like. So much better than Hawk was.

      He cocked his brow and said. “I’m not planning on doing anything to that girl, calm down, Rocky. Now we gonna stand around talking about our feelings all day or we doing this?”

      Zara was not the girl Hawk wanted on his mind.

      Rider cocked a grin. "Fine. Ring the bell, shithead."

       Hawk met it with his own nasty grin, held his hand in the air. "ding ding."

      All through the spar session with Rider, both men throwing banter around, taunting the other, making them faster, honing their reflexes, Hawk thought of only one woman and it had nothing to do with the new one inside the club changing shit.

      Nah., It was his little bit of a thing.

      His. Not his.

      The only woman he was staying far away from. Until the end of fucking time. Maybe Rider was right and it was time to take off for a while, hit the road and clear his head.

      He wouldn’t think of Gia if he was balls deep inside some other pussy.

      Or so that was the theory. Hadn’t worked yet.

      His cock only wanted one wetness choking it. Would only come alive for one. The last time being a few days ago.

      Goddamn her.

      She didn't even know the leash she'd tied around him.

     Or just what a fucked-up monster he was when it was fear or her that could get him off.

      And Hawk had a feeling Rider would throw around an objection or six if he knew the only stress reliever he wanted was found under his baby sister's skirt.