“I want an almond latte as big as my purse and ... Hawk. I’ll take a side order of him, please.” - Gia Marinos.

 

 

“Bottom line is; Rex is a piece of shit which we already knew.” The whole table of members laughed. Hawk not holding his punches as he reported in from Austin on speakerphone.

Despite the short burst of laughter, it was a somber meeting around the church table. Doors were locked, prospect told to stay away from the hallway and not to disturb no matter what and Rider at the head of the table looking like he was chewing wasps.

Grinder reached for the glass of water in front of him, drinking half while Hawk’s voice continued on. “In five weeks Rex has dropped by the club umpteen times, each time with a shitty excuse for being there. Each time Ty reminds the fool he is excommunicated and needs to stay away and then that brings in Mad-dog who tries to vouch for the guy.” Rider’s dad was a dickhead. Grinder noticed Rider’s jaw tighten, but he chose not to say anything. Probably just as well.

“If he’s conspiring with anyone in the club then I haven’t found it, Prez. I managed to get onto his property a few nights ago. He has it locked up tighter than Pretty-boy’s ass.”

Guffaws and hoots traveled from man to man. “Fuck you, Hawk.” Pretty-boy yelled at the phone.

“And whatever he’s up to, that shrew of an old lady he’s married to isn’t too pleased about it, I could hear them arguing about him going out again. Heard him backhander her as well.”

“Nice fella.” Grinder said between tight teeth.

“I think the best way we’ll find anything is to get a tap on his cell phone. The Russian’s aren’t rocking up to his front door, if he’s talking to Grigori then it’s over the phone.”

Rider swerved his head and looked at Lawless rolling a coin across his knuckles. “On it.” he told their prez without looking up. Genius motherfucker was scary sometimes with the brain power he had. Some would say he was wasting it in an MC, he could be earning millions on wall street.

“What aren’t you telling me, Hawk?” Rider spoke finally and all eyes lifted to him.

They all heard Hawk clear his throat. He was holding something back? Grinder hadn’t picked up on anything. He supposed if anyone would it would be Rider, those two had been tight for years.

“It might be nothing. I wanted something more concrete before---”

“Spit it out, brother.” A tick worked Rider’s jaw, almost as if he was expecting what came next.

“He’s been meeting with your dad regularly. Might be nothing more than two brothers grabbing grub together in a diner. I told you, I wanted more proof of something first.”

“Noted. Keep on that, Hawk.”

“I’m gonna.”

“What do we think the old sod is actually up to by turning up to Ty’s place?” Asked Texas. Impeccably dressed as always. A mix of tough guy and instagram model. Handsome shit did love his hair gel and designer ties. “Can we trace his money? That never fails to give answers. Money will be exchanging hands somewhere along the line if he’s kissing Grigori’s ass, organized crime doesn’t come free.” And that, Grinder smirked to himself, was why Texas was the treasurer. He knew how to make money and how to hide the real dirty kind.

The former president, a real nasty piece of shit and Rider’s uncle, had been quiet for more than ten years, but every member around that table, whether they’d known him personally or heard the stories of his obnoxious reputation that had almost driven Renegade Souls MC into the ground due to his lack of give-a-fuck on who he did business with, had a feeling a man like that stayed gone only so long. His ego wouldn’t allow him to accept a younger, better man like Rider in his stead.

Was Rider’s father involved though? That was the better question. Grinder couldn’t imagine having to go up against his own Pop in a gang war. Fuck, he’d die for his Pop and any one of his uncles, they were great men and Mad-Dog, the former VP was the complete opposite. He’d seen how the older man loved Rider’s sister, treating Gia like a princess, but when it came to Rider, those two were oil and water, always coming to blows. Just as well the old man lived in Austin now, having transferred there when Rider took the gavel. Shame really, Grinder had always been family orientated, both blood and those he’d chosen and he could see this new shit bothered Rider more than he let on.  

“He never did like banks, didn’t trust ‘em.” Rider provided. “And we can all bet the house he ain’t having chats with Grigori about baking bread, so yeah, we trace his fuckin’ money, see where that old fucker is makin’ it. Hawk, you good to stay on him a while longer?” Rider asked of his VP.

It had been over a year now since any of them had clapped eyes on the club’s enforcer. Hawk had initially departed due to a murder and wanting to lie low. “Yeah.” Was his brief reply.

“Yo, psycho-man. You coming back for the celebration?” Snake called out. Lucky for him Hawk was hundreds of miles away and couldn’t kill the big mouth instantly as he would have for that remark. Grinder and a few others laughed.

“Might do. But why would I wanna see your ugly face again, Snake, you send me enough fucking selfies as it is, and fucking stop doing that before I come back just to kill you.”

“Awwww… you miss me, I knew it. You all heard it, Hawk misses me most of all.” Chirped a loud Snake.

That’s how a table meeting always went. No matter the seriousness of the discussion, one of the men always broke the tension with a few banter jibes to even out the mood of everyone. It wasn’t like they took any of it lightly, knowing the Russian’s had brought their organized crime to town and probably conspiring with the former president was not something to brush under the carpet and every man around the large table knew the ramifications if any partnership between enemies became a genuine worry.

A few more insults zipped back and forth.

Until.

“Oh, fuck.”

Grinder barely caught Hawk’s exclaim coming from the phone right by Rider’s hand, what with Snake being his usual loud dipshit self, wanting center stage, but one by one the men silenced.

“Hawk? What is it?” Inquired Prez, his tone somewhat alert since Hawk wasn’t usually given to sparks of Tourette’s. Rider knocked his knuckles on the oak to get everyone to shut their traps. When his reply was only silence he asked again. “The fuck, Hawk?”

“Nothing. It was nothing, Prez. Spilled my coffee. Look, I gotta go.” And he hung up.

No one was giving Hawk awards for charm, that was for damn sure.

Preacher blew out air and slouched in his chair, knocking his skull ring on the table. “So, we know as much as we ever did. Rex is pulling a Dastardly and up to no good.”

“I want someone on Grigori. Not you, Grinder,” issued Rider. “We need to keep him sweet where you’re concerned, he’s suspicious of somethin’. Once the anniversary weekend is over I’m gonna have a sit-down with our local Russian.”

“You think that’s wise?”

“Texas is right, Prez.” interjected Lawless. “If we show our hand too early they see we’re concerned.”

“They’re openly followin’ one of my men, Grigori wants my attention.” snapped Rider. “He has it.”

“I could always just ask the clowns tailing me what the fuck they want.”

“And if it’s to make you their Russian bride, what then?” smirked Snake. “I mean I’m all for a winter wedding, I’ll wear my black cummerbund for you, G.”

“We shelve it for now. Now get to work, we have a long week before the gathering.” Rising, Rider dismissed the meeting and strode out before any more could be said. It was clear to Grinder and the boys Rider was stressed weighing in the risks to his pregnant old lady. As it stood he had two of the prospects on constant babysitting duty with Zara.

Following suit, Grinder grabbed his beanie hat, shoving it on his head and strode out with Preacher at his back to head over to the garage, he had a shit ton of work to catch up with.

 

 

******

 

Across the country, in Gem’s Eatery, a mom and pop place that smelled of coffee and freshly baked apple pie, Hawk blinked finally, sure he was seeing a mirage. Trepidation pooled in that place a heart should be located even as it gave one excited gallop. But no, he wasn’t lucky enough to be having a hallucination like a regular person.

Standing not four feet away from him, framed in the doorway and looking directly at him was Gia Marinos. Baby sister to his president and Hawk’s own nightmarish, filthy obsession.

Ever since Rider had assigned him to stay in Austin to spy on Rex he’d managed to keep away from Gia. He hadn’t stalked out her home or place of work. Hadn’t ventured near her at all, ever since he’d witnessed her smiling at another man and blood had poured into Hawk’s belly.

He’d ignored his deviant fixation to just see her. And fuck him, it was the hardest thing of all, to know his little bit of a thing was so close and he couldn’t go and just look at her. He was good at just looking, it calmed him down, it stopped the rage of dreadful need swirling in his chest. Knowing fine well he’d never follow through with what he wanted, the little bit was safe from all his ugliness.

But there she was

Jesus wept. There she was. He felt like he was having a stroke.

With her large eyes, wider with shock, and chewing on her pink lower lip, hair so dark hanging to her shoulders, he didn’t take note of what she was wearing, he was sure it was beautiful, everything on Gia was hot as fuck, but he was transfixed on her face.

Every night he trespassed onto Rex’s sprawling land to spy into his mansion with too many rooms and a goddamn butler carrying and fetching shit from the kitchen to the man of the house and he took the risks that came with it knowing if he was caught he’d likely be killed rather than handed over to the cops. Rex was old school, he’d deal with trouble himself, or have his thugs do it, the law was never an option for an MC member, even a former one, but Hawk took the risk and without fear because there was only one weapon he was afraid of, the only weapon that could hurt a man such as him, with no emotional compass to speak of, those had been ripped out of him at a young age, same went for scruples, he had zero to speak of, but the one thing that could hurt a man like Hawk, who people whispered was a psycho in the making, and he was staring right at her.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his thick beard. “Fuck. Fuck.” The coffee and waffles in front of him forgotten, the call with home a few seconds ago dismissed, hands clawed on the table in front of him. He was trapped in blue wary eyes. His body rigid and growing hard under the table.

What in the great hell did he do now she’d discovered him in her hometown?