CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“You gots kids? Kids are nice.” – Sebastian

 

A surprise Hawk arranged for Gia was happening later today, hopefully before the cookout at Rider’s place. If he was gonna get into a war of words with him again then he wanted his little bit happy beforehand. It was the least he could do to help the fucked-up situation going on between Prez and VP. But until he could go and collect it he got down to some work around the club.

The quiet footsteps registered as Hawk was unscrewing a bolt on the outside wall. He didn’t pay no attention to it at first. He was already sweating his nuts off with the sun beating down on top of his head, he wanted to get done changing out the fuses, so he could get inside with the AC.

The footfalls grew closer.

Then a shadow fell over his shoulder and he had no choice but to see which dipshit was bothering him.

He cocked back his head sending a surprise gaze over his shoulder at Preacher’s kid.

He was met by a mop of brown shaggy hair half in the boy’s wide, smiling eyes.

He toed the ground. “Hi. What’s you doin’?”

Jesus.

Rocking back on his heels, Hawk rested hands on his thighs, waiting a second with his eyes on the entryway door sure Preacher would stride right after looking for the boy. When no one came he looked back. “Something I can do for you, kid?”

Sebastian took that as consent to worm his way into the space between Hawk’s legs and to bend at the waist to peer into the open box filled with wires and fuses. “Is it broked?”

“Yeah.”

“You fixin’ it?”

“Yeah, kid.”

Three seconds more he waited for either Preacher, his old lady or another adult to come looking for the escapee. He’d known he was around the club having heard him laughing with Snake earlier. Since kids gave him the scratch he’d avoided that area altogether.

His brow furrowed in the middle when no one appeared to take him back.

“Should you be out here? How old are you?” Preacher’s boy was small in frame, skinny arms and short legs, around three, maybe?

Hawk didn’t fucking know how to gage the ages of kids. Most were nosy little know it all shits with their iPhones and attitudes.

All he knew was they were suddenly inside his clubhouse like a damn daddy day-care.

He didn’t listen to gossip, but some of it penetrated his brain whether he wanted it to or not, so he’d heard this kid’s backstory of abusive parents; one dead and the other in jail for killing his mom. Preacher had waded in to save the fucking day. Even married his old lady to get the kid in their care. Talk about a crazy sacrifice. Not that the road captain didn’t look like a pig in shit kind of happy with it.

Hawk would have loved having two dead parents. Some kids get all the luck.

The boy announced in a proud voice, holding up three fingers. “I’m five!” Well, he was close enough. “When it was my birfday I got a big castle bounce house. Did you see it? I bounced so high. Do you yike tree horses? I got a big one for my birfday.”

Hawk stopped what he was doing and looked at the small boy who kept pushing the hair out of his eyes. He seemed well-balanced enough, but tree horses? What the fuck was that? Invisible friend, maybe? His big brown eyes looking at him expectantly like Hawk knew what the fuck this tree horse was. “Sure, kid.” He answered picking up the fuse case hoping he’d take the hint and go back inside.

No such luck.

Hawk was still giving thought to what in the great fuck a tree horse was. Giraffe maybe?

“You mean a giraffe?” He had to know.

The kid grinned showing a missing tooth. “Oh, yeah! That’s what I said.” 

Hawk cast him a side-eye.

“I can runned weally fast, you wanna see?” He presented his Nikes by sticking out a foot.

Hawk hunkered back over the fuse box, blocking out the boy.

Maybe he’d just go away if he ignored him.

A second later that shaggy head appeared at his side. “What you doin’ to it?”

Hawk sucked in the hot, sticky air. Seriously, where were this kid’s owners? He didn’t take hints that was for damn sure. Was it okay to ask a kid to scram? His little bit would know and probably tell him no.

He was more irritated that he wasn’t irritated by the kid’s presence poking his nose into the work he was trying to get through fast, so he could drive across town for Gia’s surprise. In fact, Hawk shifted to the right to let him look at what he was doing.

“I’m changing out the fuses, so the outside lights work again, and we can see who’s coming and going.”

The boy was silent while he nosed into the circuit box.

His fingers twitching like he wanted to touch everything “What does that do?”

“That’s where this goes. It makes the lightbulb work.” Hawk showed him the fuse and let him watch him pop it back in. “Where’s your dad, kid? He knows you’re outside?”

Sebastian, fascinated in what Hawk was doing watched avidly, shifting from one sneaker foot to the other. He rolled a little shoulder. “I don’t gots one now. He did something bad and went far away. Aun’ Ruby said he’s not coming back ever.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Hawk’s gut squeezed like he’d eaten bad seafood.

Seb said it nonchalantly, like it was no biggie to have no parents, but Hawk knew more than most the thoughts a five-year-old could have for the abuse they received.

Clearing the rock in his throat he jutted his chin towards the tool box. “You wanna hand me that screw driver?”

“Yeah! I can do that.” About an hour later when he finally grabbed the right tool Hawk was aware the boy had sidled closer to watch him close the fuse box. “You do have a dad, you know?”

The boy blinked. “I do?”

“Doesn’t Preacher play ball with you and take you to school?” A fast nod. “And read you stories and knowing Preacher he lets you have candy for dinner?” Another nod, this time the boy held up four fingers. “Four storwies. And he lets me sit on his bike. I gonna have a bike when I get bigger.”

Instantly the boy, wearing denim and a fire truck red Adidas hoodie, went into an animated story of how Preacher plays with him in the yard every night and how the kid beats him in races. “I gots my own football! I beat Winder last night, I made him falled over real hard.” He told proudly.

Hawk found his mouth twitching. The boy had jokes. “Grinder is shit at football.”

“Oh! You said a bad word!”

Another lip twitch. The kid was earnest in his scolding. Hawk dipped his head to grab at the box of fuses he’d brought out with him to change the other four in the exterior timed lights. “Don’t tell your dad.”

“Do I gets money? When Pweacher swored he gave me money and I don’t tell Aun’ Ruby.”

His smile widened like he knew what he was doing.

That little hustling punk.

Sitting back on his boots Hawk fished in his front jeans pocket, found it empty. He checked the back and grabbed the only note in there. A five. Shit. The boy’s eyes lit up. “Here, you con artist, don’t buy smokes.”

“What’s a con artist?”

“It’s you, kid.” Hawk moved several feet along to the next light box, squatted down and found his shadow following. Seb was Preacher’s kid. Poking his nose in. Asking too many questions. Hawk answered them all.

“You got a bike?”

“Yep.”

“Pweacher’s bike is better.” He told Hawk with a grin, holding onto the screwdriver waiting to be tagged in for the task of passing it over.

Hawk arched his brow. The balls on this kid. “Is that so?”

“He lets me wide it. I’m gonna gets a big one when I get older, he said I could.”

“Keep conning assholes out of cash and you’ll afford one before you’re ten.” Hawk muttered.

“Oh. You saided ‘nother bad word.” And didn’t the kid just hold out his hand. Shit.

Hawk nearly grinned. “You cleaned me out. Catch me tomorrow.”

A vigorous nod. “Okay, I will ‘member.”

“Sebastian!” Bellowed from inside and the kid giggled, leaning against Hawk’s shoulder, both sets of eyes watched the doorway as Preacher rushed out, looked right and then left. He visibly exhaled with relief.

“Jesus, Seb. Where the fu—fudge did you go to? I told you to sit tight, didn’t I?”

The taller, wider brother, with his hair tied in a knot on top of his head and arms and torso tattooed completely under the black wifebeater looked between Hawk and his boy with a quizzical twist to his face.

Hawk was the last babysitter anyone would think of. He tried to appear disinterested by gathering up his shit from the ground without knocking the kid from his shoulder.

“Dad!” Seb launched himself at Preacher and Hawk had the rare privilege of seeing the road captain completely stunned as he caught the kid up into his arms.

“Dad?” He asked the boy who nodded with a grin, arms around the bigger shoulders. “Hawk said you’re my dad ‘cause you played football and wead me tons of stories.” It was simple to the kid.

Hawk met Preacher’s emotion stained green eyes.

A lot of unsaid words in his gaze.

Hawk chin jutted him and ducked his head.

Too much demonstrative shit for him to cope with when the pair bumped their foreheads together and laughed.

Hawk left them to their moment.

Until the kid slithered out of Preacher’s arms and came back over, leaning into Hawk’s side.

“Let’s head inside, little man, and leave Hawk to it.”

“I helping! Aren’t I helping, Hawk?” He verified it by running around him to find the screwdriver, showing it to Preach. “See!”

His face impassive, Hawk cleared his voice. He should tell the kid to go, he talked too fucking much, and any more conversation he was bound to owe him a couple hundred bucks. Instead found himself saying. “That’s right. He’s fine, Preach. I’ll bring him in.”

What the fuck was he saying? He wouldn’t even volunteer to watch one of Lawless’ bitches, or his cats.

Seb pumped the air with his little fist. “See, Dad. I’m helping the lights to work.” Hawk hid amusement while his club brother barked a low powered laugh, obviously proud of his boy.

“So, you’re okay with him, H?”

Hawk nodded. “Leave the men to work.”

Seb belly laughed. “It’s men’s work, Dad.” Duh.

“Okay. I’ll just be inside with Ruby, send him in if he gets annoying, which is alllllllll the time.” Winked Preacher striding off inside.

“Yo, road captain?”

The tatted man turned.

“Fudge?” An entertained, taunting Hawk asked and watched the big man scowl narrowing his eyes.

He flipped him off. “Fudge you, VP.”

 

An hour later he pulled up outside Gia’s place. He’d needed to take his barely used SUV to cart his surprise and all the shit he’d bought that came with it.

With a tickle of apprehension, he let himself in and called out her name. “Hi, baby.” She answered. Fuck, his heart careened like it was made of slop. He loved hearing that from her. “I’m in my office.”

He noticed she was dressed for the cookout in knee-length cut off white denim shorts and a thin strappy top that floated loosely around her belly and a pair of multi-colored sandals on her feet.

She smiled when he walked in then looked at him speculatively as expected since he wore his leather coat zipped to the chin.

“You’ll roast in that. You need shorts, Colton.”

“Got something for you.” He cleared his throat and unzipped just the slightest inch before a gray head with pointed ears poked out of the top.

The French bulldog pup yapped on a continuous excited loop, and Gia squealed almost deafening him.

“Oh my god, what do you have there?” She was across the room in a second. He pulled open his coat and handed her the small, wriggling bundle. “Oh my god, Hawk. He’s so cute!”

“She,” he told her. “Do you like her?”

“Like her? I love her! What are you doing with a puppy?”

He looked at the floor, rubbed his beard. Fuck, this romantic shit was hard as fuck. He’d gotten the idea when he’d heard some guy bred his French bulldogs.

Gia wanted a puppy, she’d told him, and it stayed with him.

“She’s yours if you want her. I got shit for her too. A bed, food, and other things out in the truck.”

Beautiful, blue eyes filled with tears suddenly and Hawk’s brow dropped as did his fucking confidence for doing something nice for his woman without being prompted first.

Had he done the wrong thing?

“You bought me a puppy? You really got me a puppy? Colton!” With the dog cradled in her arms like a baby she flung herself at him, he barely had time to register before Gia was against his chest crying.

“Little bit. Don’t. Stop crying. I wouldn’t have gotten the mutt if I knew it would upset you.” Shit. Panic rose in his mid-section, making his brain ring trying to figure out what to do. “Stop that,” he said forcibly, palming the back of her skull. He kissed the crown of her head and shushed her.

She tipped her chin, grinning and tears and all she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You got me a puppy. I love you so much.”

“This is you happy?” He was fucking sceptical.

“Yes,” she beamed and kissed the puppy all over her yapping face. She seemed equally as ecstatic to have Gia for an owner.

He left them on the floor while he carted in all the dog stuff, leaving it in the hallway. Gia once again attacked him, this time he caught her up and she wound her legs around his waist.

His cock grew.

He could get used to this.

He bent to kiss her, but she avoided his mouth.

The hell? Didn’t she want to kiss him back?

The pup trapped between them gave him a lick on his chin.

“Thank you for my gift, baby. I love her so much. And I have the best name for her!”

“Killer?” He suggested.

Gia laughed. “No.” She slithered back to her feet, held the pudgy gray thing out. “Meet Khaleesi Stormborn.”

Hawk had his arms full again of sweet, happy woman cooing to her new baby.

He knew two things; he’d done alright with his first try at romance. And two, he was never fucking ever calling out that name if he walked the fucking dog. Anyone asked, she was called Killer.