Hawk's Property(10)
That’s what I’m afraid of. Looking at her phone, Cara said, “I have to run. I have an evidentiary hearing in twenty minutes.” She jumped up and threw thirty dollars on the table.
“Cara, this was supposed to be my treat.”
“I know. You can get it the next time. Call me. I’ve gotta go.”
* * *
Sherrie watched as her best friend ran out the door, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. The two had been through so much. They’d met when Sherrie’s mother moved to Pinewood Springs after Sherrie’s parents split up. Sherrie was in junior high, didn’t know anyone at the school, and everyone had their clique; it was miserable. Cara befriended her, and they had been best friends ever since.
When they went out, Cara usually picked up the tab, and Sherrie appreciated it because she was always broke. Being a lead teacher at the Little Tykes Day Care Center didn’t pay enough, but she loved the kids and the work.
Sherrie knew Cara was in deep with her sexy biker, and she didn’t believe any of Cara’s excuses or denials of her feelings for Hawk. She knew Cara, and Cara was scared shitless to open her heart to another man. Going out with Luke didn’t pose any danger because he was so not Cara’s type, and Sherrie knew he was just a safety net, even if Cara didn’t know that yet. Sexy Biker was a different deal altogether. During their lunch conversation, and the way Cara brightened when Sherrie talked about Hawk’s attraction to her, Sherrie detected that she had a primal pull toward him. Sherrie was rooting for Sexy Biker, because she knew her friend needed a real man to free her heart from the self-imposed prison she’d put herself in four years back. Sexy Biker would be the perfect liberator.
* * *
Stay in a motel. Why the fuck would I do that? Even though it was early August, there was a chill in the air. Fall was going to come early this year. The crickets’ symphony reverberated from the oak and maple trees as Hawk sped around the curves. Craving solitude, he took the back road to the clubhouse.
The wind whipping around him and the hum of his bike’s powerful engine always made his troubles disappear. Out on the road, nothing mattered except for the asphalt and the ride. Fuck, it’s better than sex. Well, almost… At least his Harley didn’t talk back to him the way bitches did. Like Cara. She had a mouth on her. Must be the lawyer in her, always ready to argue. And she was so goddamn bossy. Who needed that shit? No, his love was a kick-ass, chrome powerhouse.
Hawk loved customizing his bike; it was his obsession. He and his bike were one—it was for the ride—it was always about the ride. The only ones who got it were bikers—true bikers—not those fucking weekend assholes who wore leather pretending they were bad. God, he hated them. Those jerks would come out with their buddies and ride around the mountain passes, acting tough, but they were just sniveling ass-wipes. They didn’t know shit about the ride, the life, the brotherhood. He gritted and leaned low around the curve on Ghost’s Pass, his shin inches from touching the road. This was freedom.
He came around the backside of the clubhouse. A thirty-foot, chain-link fence with barbed wire on the top surrounded it. The Insurgents had bought an old, three-story, red brick schoolhouse back in 1976. The founding president, Stinger Gaitlan, wanted a big enough place that could accommodate the growth of the club and the neighboring charters.
The clubhouse was twenty-five miles outside of Pinewood Springs. The front door bored the logo of the club—a flaming skull with two smoking pistols on each side—and the name “Insurgents” in large, red and yellow lettering.
There was a big parking lot in front of the fence, and evergreen, pine, and aspen trees surrounded the clubhouse. The Colorado River ran alongside the back of the club’s property, and the river’s swift, dangerous currents mirrored the craziness of the club’s parties most weekends.
Hawk parked his Harley near the fence as he spied a couple of prospects cleaning out the trash cans from the previous night’s party. Seeing a patched member, they scrambled out of the way so Hawk could pass. Prospects were vying to also become patched members and had to go through a probationary period to prove they were worthy to don the full colors on their cuts. Being a prospect meant doing whatever a member told them to, without any questions or arguments. They were responsible for the menial and grunt jobs around and outside of the clubhouse and were allowed to speak only when spoken to.
In the room behind the great one, there was a large kitchen where the old ladies would make the meals. Sometimes the whores would cook, as well, but mostly, they cleaned. Walking through the back door, Hawk saw Doris, Ruben’s old lady, drying a large pot in the kitchen.
Doris had been Ruben’s old lady for as long as Hawk had known them. They had a couple of kids and seemed to understand each other in a way he sometimes envied. Ruben had his pussy on the side, and Doris pitched in with club activities, but she mostly raised their two kids and lived her life away from the club. If Ruben’s fucking around bothered her, she never showed it, and Hawk admired her for the respect she gave Ruben and the brothers. She knew her place. She knew the sluts Ruben sucked and fucked meant nothing more than pussy on a Friday night, and Ruben’s heart and love belonged to her only. Doris was a good example of what an old lady should be—women could learn a lot from her.
“Hiya, Hawk. We missed you last night.”
“Had some shit to do. Where’s Ruben?”
“Snoring in one of the rooms upstairs. He got so fucking plastered last night.” She smiled widely. “It was a helluva party.”
“Banger around?”
“Yeah, he’s in the great room.”
Hawk nodded and walked toward the great room. Inside, he saw some of the brothers passed out on the floor, a few of them with naked women on top of them. A couple of his brothers were sitting wide-legged on the couch, beer in hand while two sluts, their tits jiggling as they moved their mouths and hands up and down, kneeled between their legs, sucking the shit out of their dicks.
Squinting, Hawk spotted Banger with his face buried in a whore’s pussy, who sat on top of the bar, legs spread wide, playing with her tits as Banger ate her out. Hawk came over and slapped the president on the back. “Enjoying yourself?”
Banger pulled his mouth away and the slut pouted and scolded him. “I ain’t finished yet, baby. I love the way you eat my pussy. I need to come for you and then suck your cock.” She ran her purple talons down his back.
Banger pushed her away, saying, “Slut, get outta here. I got club business goin’ now. Go on, get your ass outta here.”
Crestfallen, she jumped off the bar and Banger slapped her ass. “Later, bitch. I’ll finish ya later.”
She walked over to another brother who was drinking a beer at a table and sat on his lap, her ass pressing against his cock. As she brought her mouth down on his, they kissed and groped each other. Hawk shook his head. “Who’s that one? I haven’t seen her before.”
“Shit, I can’t remember her name. She and a bunch of her friends came by last night to party. They were wild—gave the brothers a good time. This slut, she must’ve done all the brothers every which way. She’s a damn good fuck. You should try her. She’s eyeing you now.”
Hawk looked over at the woman who was grinding her ass into Ronnie’s cock. She winked at Hawk and blew him a kiss. He stared, stone-faced. “Nah, I think I’ll pass. Not my type.”
“When in the fuck did that matter?” Banger joked. “You’ve fucked two and three sluts at once, and it didn’t look like you were all that choosy. Shit, it’s good pussy.”
Hawk shook his head; he didn’t want any of the bitches there. Yeah, he was horny as hell, and it had been a while since he had some pussy, but the only one he wanted was Cara’s. That woman was messing with his head, and it pissed him the hell off that he wanted her so much. He needed to just fuck the shit out of her and get it out of his system. After that, he could go back to his normal life: riding, working, drinking, and random pussy.
“The badges were here,” Banger said after he shut his office door.
“Shit. I knew they’d show up here, the motherfuckers. What did they want?”
“Said they were looking for you. I told ’em I haven’t seen you in days and they threw their chests out a bit, but a couple who are cool with us pulled the others back and they left. What the fuck’s up with this shit? We’ve never had problems like this. In Denver, yeah, the fuckin’ badges are a pain in the ass all the time, but here, we’re on good terms with the sheriff and some of the deputies. Something’s not right.”
“Ya think? They’re targeting me ’cause of that goddamned Fourth waiver. I should ring Les’ neck for striking that deal. I was a fuckin’ idiot to go along with it. Cara would never have given my Fourth away. We need to fire Les’ ass for good and put Cara on retainer.”
Looking at Hawk, Banger nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Les just wants his money. I don’t think he gives a shit anymore, not like he used to. This woman lawyer, she knows her stuff, and she’ll have our back. Let’s see what she can do with this shit you’re in. If she does good, we can put her on the payroll.”