Hawk
As soon as Tessa unlocks the door to her apartment and ushers Sam inside, I wrap my fingers around her arm and stop her. “I want you to lock the door. Use both locks, please. Check the windows and make sure they’re shut and locked. You have locks on all your windows, right?”
Her eyes look frantic, and I know that she’s starting to panic. “What’s going on? Why are you asking me about the locks?”
“I need an answer, Tessa.”
“Yes, of course, I have locks on my windows. I’m a single mother living in Los Angeles, I’m not stupid.”
I brush her hair behind her ear. “Of course not, baby. I know you’re not. I just need to hear it with my own ears.”
“I know the windows are all locked, but I’ll check again. Now, can you answer my questions?”
“I have a feeling, but don’t worry.” I grab the back of her neck and pull her to me until her lips land on mine. Fuck, it feels so good to kiss her. When I pull away, her eyes are dazed, and I want to thump my fucking chest because Miss In Control Reese loses all control with me and I fucking welcome it.
“You really need to stop doing that,” she tells me, breathless.
“Not a fucking chance,” I say before I turn and leave her porch. “The door, baby. Lock up tight.”
“When do you plan on seeing me again?”
“Soon.” That’s all I give her for now because I’m not sure how the next few minutes are going to go.
* * *
The thing with growing up in an MC is that it becomes a part of you. It’s something you need to have to survive, to live, like oxygen. Even Sin, who resists where he comes from on a daily basis, requires the club. He’ll never admit to it, but he does.
My father taught me a lot, even at a young age he told me and showed me things that no child should understand, but I did. Streetlife was the way to live, and I’m not talking the thug life, gangs and shit like that. I was to know the street, to blend into your surroundings when you needed it. Being in an MC placed targets on our backs, so blending in was always crucial. More so today. Bounty hunting requires you to blend in, to grab your mark, and that’s precisely what I’m doing right now as I stand in the shadows of Tessa’s neighborhood.
For the past two hours, I’ve watched this fucker stand watch over Tessa’s place. Part of me is fucking pissed that I missed it the couple times that I’ve come by. I know this isn’t the first time that he’s stood out here, across the street from her apartment, and it makes my fucking blood boil. Our run-in tonight was not a coincidence as he so innocently put it.
I watch as he strokes his crotch. What a sick piece of shit. He can’t even see Tessa through any of the windows, and he’s turned on. I wonder why. Is he picturing her naked? Maybe he’s thinking about what it would be like to go balls, deep inside. “Yeah fucker, not on my watch,” I whisper.
When I feel the vibration of my cell in my pocket, I turn my back on him and pull it from my pocket. It’s Dyke, I had him pull all the records he could find on a Phil Jensen.
DYKE: Nothing much. He’s got a clean record, but he has been let go from several jobs over the past few years. It seems that his father left him quite a bit of inheritance when he passed. No kids, no wife, no immediate family.
His text doesn’t tell me anything.
When I pocket my phone and turn around, Phil’s gone. I take a step towards Tessa’s when I see a figure walking around the side towards her patio. “Oh fuck no.” I pick up my pace, making sure to grab him before he can make it to her fence.
As soon as I’m close enough, I wrap my arm around his throat, making sure to put enough pressure on his larynx so he can’t make a sound. I throw a few kidney punches making his knees buckle. Now I know he’s in too much pain that he won’t fight me when I pull his ass around to the alleyway.
“Listen to me, you piece of shit,” I growl into his ear. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but you need to stay the fuck away from Tessa and Sam.”
When I get to our destination, far enough away from prying eyes and ears, I push him down to the concrete. His eyes are murderous as he heaves breaths while I press my boot into his chest. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he grits, but his sorry response only makes me laugh.
“I said,” I press down more onto his rib cage, “you need to stay the fuck away from them.”
“Fuck you.”
I feel a pop of one of his ribs when I apply more pressure, and his groan tells me that he’s feeling the pain. “I’m not someone to be fucking with, Phil. You don’t want on my bad side. I’ve fucking killed people who’ve ended on my bad side.” His eyes widen, and I know that I’ve gotten his attention. “Yeah, that’s right, man. You stay the fuck away from what’s mine, and I’ll let you live. But if I see or hear that you’ve come near them again, I will fucking kill you.” I push down again, driving my point across.
If I were back home, he wouldn’t live long enough to pull himself out of that alley, but I’m not in Las Cruces. I don’t have the safety net of my club to cover my ass, and I haven’t checked in with the local charter letting them know I’m here. Until I do that, I have to let him be. But if he thinks of testing me, he’ll know what the wrath of Devil’s Fury feels like.