Chapter 1

Hawk

"B out time they let you out of there for something you didn't do," Gage says with a chuckle like something's funny. I look up to see him walking up the paved driveway at my house. It's been two years since I've had my freedom, and he hasn't matured any. He was twenty-three when he robbed that joint with dumb and dumber. Now, he's twenty-five and he's still the exact same idiot he was when I did the time for his crime.

"You know you gave your mom some extra gray hairs behind your foolishness," my other brother, Brandon, says to Gage.

"Her hair has always been gray," he spats. "And don't act all holy like you're a saint, Brandon, because you ain't."

"Shut up, Gage," Brandon says pushing him.

Gage shoves him back.

I say, "Ay, I', gon' tighten both of yall up in a minute. Is this any way to welcome your brother home?"

"You're right," Brandon says. "My bad, man."

Brandon is a mature thirty-five-year-old – has always been the smart, know-it-all type, even back when he was in his twenties. I guess it's because he's the oldest, and owns a trucking company that brings in over five million dollars a year. He's the only one of us siblings that got his stuff together.

I crack open a cold one and chug it down. Getting out of lockup feels like a rebirth – starting over again – but who wants to keep doing that? I've done it before. I hadn't planned on doing it again. Now, I'm thirty and besides my house, I have nothing. I suppose I should be thankful that Brandon looked after it for me, especially after Ivy moved all her stuff out.

Yep, she left me and the only call she took of mine was the very first one after it all went down. That's it. I was still in the hospital then, and she didn't bother to come see me. Ivy didn't visit me in prison, didn't write or put money on my books– she was a ghost just like my brothers who also went AWOL. At least Brandon took care of the house and put some money on my books. Gage, the pain in my rear, didn't do anything for me. He's always been selfish, but after ruining my life, the least he could do was visit.

"You see Ma yet?" Gage asks, taking it upon himself to take a beer out of my cooler.

"I just got out yesterday. I haven't seen anyone but you two knuckleheads."

"Yeah, well, she's been waiting to see you," Brandon says.

"Ha—more like waiting to cuss you out!" Gage says.

If Gage wasn't my brother, I'd been knocked his teeth out a long time ago. He really doesn't think before he speaks, nor does he think about the consequences of his actions.

I say, "What have you been doing free for the last two years, Gage? You got a job yet, or are you the same moron you were back then, pissing in your pants trying to get away from the cops."

He chuckles. "Well, at least I got away."

I jump up from my seat – a piece of log that I use for a chair – and lunge at him. I grab his collar before Brandon plays referee and holds me back from beating Gage into a pulp. He's been asking for it and I'm just the one to give it to him.

"The only reason I got caught you stupid bastard is because of you. I was making sure you got away, and you think this is funny?"

"Ay, man. Chill," he says, smoothing out his shirt. "Can't you take a joke anymore?"

"Get out of my driveway before you take a fist to your face!"

He puts his hands up and backs away. When he leaves in whatever piece of crap car he's stolen this time, I tell Brandon, "I swear he has a couple of screws loose."

Brandon shakes his head. "I hate to say it, Gideon, but you have to let him make his own mistakes."

"Oh, I've learned that lesson while I sat in prison for two years for something he did, and he didn't bother to come to visit, write or nothing."

"I didn't visit you either—"

"At least you kept an eye on things here," I say, turning to look at my small light blue house with dark blue shutters. "It ain't much, but at least I got somewhere to lay my head."

"In these parts, that means you got a lot, brother."

I grab two beers from a red cooler, offer him one, and crack open a second for myself, and say, "I'll drink to that."

He takes a long, hearty swig and then asks, "So, what now, bro?"

I shrug. "I'm going to pick up where I left off. Gotta get my shop back up and running so I can make some money. I have a steady clientele."

"Let me guess—those heathens at that motorcycle club."

"Call them what you want, but they all came to visit me when I was in the slammer. They're my family."

"Oh, and I'm not."

"Don't put words in my mouth. I didn't say that."

Brandon kicks dirt and stares down the street when he says, "Now's a good time to leave that life behind. If you truly want a fresh start, then make one. You can work at the trucking company if you—"

"I'm not working at your company, Brandon."

"Okay, well work at any company—anything that will get you to let go of that gang life."

"My association with the club is not the reason I got locked up. Granted, I've done plenty to get locked up for, but need I remind you it was our idiot brother who decided he was going to rob a bank!"

Brandon shakes his head. "You know they screwed him over."

"What do you mean?"

"Gage never saw a dime of that money. The word around here is, one of ‘em fled to Mexico…don't know what happened to the other one but wherever he is, he's livin' it up."

All I can do is shake my head. "You better talk some sense into him, Brandon, because I'm done. Look at what he's done to me."

"I ain't talking no sense into him. If he wants to be wild and free, that's what he'll be until he lands in more trouble."

I stand up, stretch and take a look at the house. "This place has so many memories—just me and Ivy. It's a simple house—nothing fancy about it, but the love we shared here is what made it home, you know."

"Have you heard from her?"

"No, and I don't expect to."

"I hate that for you, man. You were crazy about her."

I still am.

"Have you seen her around?" I ask.

"Uh…I last saw Ivy about six months ago."

"Oh, yeah? She still looking good?"

"I'm not judging your lady, man."

"Well, she ain't mine no more, now, is she?"

Brandon sips beer and leaves my question in the air. "She has a daughter now, I think—at least I saw her with a little girl."

"A daughter?"

"Yep."

Damn .

I tell Brandon, "I used to sit in prison and dream we would get back together as soon as I got out, but hearing this means she's moved on."

"Maybe. That same day I saw her, she also had something else that was concerning."

"What's that?"

"A black eye."

"A what?" I ask in disbelief because while we're no longer together, I'm not about to let a man abuse her. Whoever he is, he's as good as dead.

"I don't know who she's mixed up with, but the situation ain't good."

He leaves me to draw my own conclusion. I couldn't imagine a man putting his hands on such a gentle, sweet woman. Sure, she could be a bit of a firecracker at times, but sweet nonetheless. I've always liked women with a bit of an edge and Ivy fit the bill perfectly. That's why I married her. She's five-six, thick in the hips, and has that chocolate skin that makes a man's mouth water and other parts of his body stiff. She always wears her hair in braids, dresses nice, and smells like cocoa butter, vanilla and sensuality.

While her looks are top-tier, her personality is even better. It offsets my ruggedness. She's soft and gentle. I'm hard and rough around the edges. We're the textbook definition of opposites attract . We were Bonnie and Clyde without the criminal activity – well, on her end at least.

Still, we worked.

To hear that she's possibly being abused rattles me to my core. I would like nothing other than to put my hands on whoever hurt her, even while knowing Ivy wants nothing to do with me. The last conversation we had, she told me she would be filing for divorce. While I know she's not the blame for the destruction of our marriage, I'm still pissed that she wouldn't at least hear me out. She cut me out of her life like the three years we were happy meant nothing.

Talk about a slap in the face.

"You will never know this, Brandon, but when a man is locked up and stripped of his dignity, he gets to thinking about a lot of things. I, for one, will not let anything or anyone take me down again. I'd made a promise to Ivy that I would stay out of trouble. I broke that promise. I'm not making any more promises to anyone but myself. From here on out, I'm putting me first over everything and everyone."

As I speak those words, I hear revving motorcycles in the distance. I already know who they are. My brothers are coming to see me.

Sure enough, they pull up in formation and turn into the driveway. It's only two from the crew, but their visit is a welcomed one.

They turn off their engines and take off their helmets.

Brandon says, "Alright, man. I'm heading out."

I smirk and watch him walk off. He wants nothing to do with the MC since he says he doesn't like the character of people I chose as associates.

"Fellas," he says to them, nodding once as he walks to his truck.

Dragon, Vice President of Sin City, roughs me up and says, "You made it out of the slammer you dirty dog."

"I guess you can say that," I tell him.

"How does it feel to be home, man?" he asks.

"It feels good. It feels damn good."

"Woooo! My brother's home," Wraith proclaims, punching me on the shoulder. "I see your brother still got a stick up his butt."

"Nevermind him. Brandon is Brandon. You know how that goes. He's straight-laced and intends on staying that way. I ain't mad at that."

I lean over, flip the top off of the cooler and toss them both a beer.

They both pop it open. It sprays out the top as they toss ‘em back. Wraith chugs the whole can and tosses it into the front yard.

"When are you coming to the clubhouse, man?" Wraith asks.

"Yeah," Dragon says. "We're ready to party and celebrate your release, brother!"

I'm not in a partying mood. After being locked up, I thought that was the first thing I wanted to do – go to the clubhouse, hang with the fellas, toss back some shots, entertain some company from a Beauty and pass out drunk with a naked woman on top of me. But that's far from what I want. I'm feeling real chill right now. I would like nothing other than to lay on my sofa, watch TV and drink my beer in peace and privacy.

But they want to party.

"Come on, Hawk. Prez has requested your presence. We all need to catch up, bro," Dragon says.

I sigh. When Prez requests your presence, you just go and Loki has requested mine, so I guess I should show my face around there. It'll probably be good for me, anyway.

"I'll be down there tonight," I drawl.

"That's what I'm talking about. It's about to be a party! Woo!!!" Wraith exclaims.

They head back to their motorcycles, slide their helmets on and drive off.

I wasn't prepared for this. I had no idea I'd feel this way after my release. And it's not like I want to shun the club. I'd never do that. It's the simple fact that I need some time to get myself together without booze and big tits in my face. My focus is to get my shop back up and running and rebuild my clientele. I don't have room for much else.