Chapter Twenty-One

Hawk

I was so fucking angry that Laura still thought so poorly of me after everything we'd been through over the past few weeks. And the fact that I was angry and hurt pissed me off. I was frustrated as fuck, but I knew it wasn't fair or right, so I shoved those thoughts down deep and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. We were just friends, sort of, who were pretending to date. None of it was real, no matter how it felt, and I needed to remember that.

Period.

It was easy to keep my distance and not think about it when Laura and I weren't together. But days like today when she strolled into the kitchen looking sleepy and rumpled and sexy as fuck from her nap made it damn near impossible to remember the truth.

"Hey," she yawned, and stretched, showing off the strip of skin between her tank top and pajama pants.

"Hey," I said absently, refusing to give her more than a cursory thought.

"You're still pissed at me," she said abruptly.

"I'm not," I insisted truthfully.

"You are," she tried again. "And I guess I deserve it. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Hawk. I'm really fucking sorry that I let someone get in my head and cause me to doubt you."

I looked at Laura for a long moment, really looked at her enough that I could see that she was genuinely sorry. "Who was it?"

"That's not what matters. Someone unimportant, that's who."

It was a shit answer, a copout, and we both knew it, but I didn't call her out.

"Fine." I shook my head. "Keep your secrets, Laura."

"It's not like that," she murmured. "It really doesn't matter who because I'm the one who let it get to me. Nobody else."

It mattered to me, and I was about to tell her, but my phone rang, distracting me from the argument about to come. "One sec," I said, and picked up the call. "Yeah?"

"It's Rocky. Get to the clubhouse. Now."

"What's up?" I asked, but the call had already disconnected. "We need to go," I told Laura.

She shook her head. "Go ahead and take care of business."

"I'm not leaving you alone and I'm not arguing about it. Let's go." I stared at her for a long moment, daring her to argue with me.

Wisely, she didn't. Instead, she glared at me. "Fine. Let's go."

Something was going on at the clubhouse and I couldn't afford to waste time arguing with her. "Five minutes."

She gave one sharp nod before she turned away and disappeared into her room.

I grabbed my leather vest and rammed my feet into a pair of well-worn bike boots, and two minutes later I waited for Laura near the door. When she showed up, her hair was pulled into a bun and her lips were shiny and pink. She was angry and she was beautiful.

"Come on."

I opened the door and waved Laura out so I could lock the door. Her gasp drew my attention. "What's up?"

"Look," she shouted, and pointed to her car that sat in my driveway with a shattered windshield.

"Fuck." Somehow, someone had made it onto my property unnoticed and vandalized her fucking car. "This shit has to end." I shook my head and looked at Laura, taking her hand in mine. "I'll deal with it later." I tugged her to my bike. "I promise, Laura."

She nodded silently and squeezed my hand.

"We have to go." I handed her the spare helmet and within seconds we were on the road, headed to the clubhouse.

***

It made no sense that Rocky would call me now when he and Diesel should be doing business with the Vipers MC, and I wondered what had happened. There was a shipment of guns reserved for them and the fact that I was called in meant something had gone wrong.

The parking lot was full of strange bikes and the clubhouse buzzed with activity when we arrived, which was yet another bad sign. Usually, when a deal went down, the place was empty if we met at the clubhouse. Most of the time, though, we chose a neutral location. Something was seriously fucking wrong.

"What's going on?" Laura asked in a whisper.

"No fucking clue. Stay here. I'll be back."

She nodded her agreement as I walked off.

But that wasn't enough assurance and I stopped and turned back to her. "Don't leave."

"I won't. I promise"

"Okay." I nodded and headed to the back where I knew my prez would be with the Vipers. "What the fuck is going on?" All eyes swung to me. Relief flashed in Diesel's and then Rocky's eyes. Annoyance and distrust appeared in the others. "Well?"

Rocky stepped forward and shoved his hands deep in his jeans. "These assholes seem to think that you're an informant for the cops and that's why they called off the deal to buy the guns they fucking asked for. " He said the last few words extra loud to make sure the Vipers heard him.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but couldn't help the laughter that spilled from my lips. "Me? A fucking informant? What moron fed them that lie?" My gaze swung to Silver Bullet, the president of the Vipers MC, and bore into him to make sure he knew I thought he was a fucking idiot.

He shrugged, unbothered by my insult. "That's the word on the street, and I can't take that risk."

Anger pulsed through my veins at the goddamn insulting accusation. "Look, man, if you guys don't have the money to buy the guns, just say that. Not every MC is cut out for business."

"You little shit." Silver Bullet lunged in my direction, but his men stood between us.

I crossed my arms and smiled. "It's all right if you guys are having money problems."

"Motherfucker!"

"Enough!" Diesel was at his limit, and I couldn't say I blamed him.

I closed the distance between me and Silver Bullet until we were chest to chest, our gazes locked on each other. "You think I'm a CI?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I do."

"Then you're either really fucking stupid, or just a dumb fuck who doesn't realize that whoever told you that is fucking with your head. You ever think that maybe they want the guns, or worse, want you unarmed?" These fucking guys were too eager to fuck up this deal and it didn't make sense.

Silver Bullet's grin stretched across his face. "And who says we don't have another seller lined up?"

I laughed and shook my head. "You don't. And you won't when word gets around that your word means shit. In fact, I'm willing to bet that nobody will want to do business with you after that gets around."

"Are you threatening me, boy?"

I grinned. "No, I'm just telling you exactly what the fuck is going to happen if you don't buy these fucking guns." I stared the asshole down until he took a step back and turned to Diesel.

"I'm not the only one who's heard it." He shrugged, but fear tightened his mouth.

"Then be a fucking man and tell us where you heard it."

"I'm not a fucking snitch."

I laughed in his face. Loudly. "That means that you're full of shit and the Vipers just want to go back on their word. Wait until that gets around." I looked back at Diesel and Rocky for support, but only blank expressions met me. I turned to the Vipers MC and their fucking smug expressions. "Fuck you." I spat the two words out between my brothers and the Vipers, and I left.

It was fucking bullshit. I felt as if this was some kind of orchestrated attack against me, and for what? The only thing I did was step in to prevent an innocent person from being murdered by a bunch of gang bangers. And the worst part was that innocent person thought I was a human trafficking piece of shit.

"Hawk, wait up!" Rocky called after me, but I wasn't in the mood to talk, so I kept going, around the clubhouse building and to my bike.

"Not now, Rocky." I hopped on the bike and slipped my helmet on. "Keep an eye on Laura. I'll be back. Whenever." I didn't need this shit, not from Laura or my brothers or those asshole Vipers.

All I needed was my bike and the open road. My mind was full of anger. No, not anger. Rage. It was filled with rage that somebody was coming after me, targeting me. The fact that someone made my brothers—my fucking president—doubt me, was goddamn infuriating. My tires hugged the highway like a possessive lover while I ate up the pavement, hoping that enough miles would help my anger dissipate.

Ten miles. Fifteen. Thirty. Fifty. None of it did anything to change my furious state, so I kept riding. The scenery changed from Steel City to Las Vegas to the desert. The inky night sky was lit by a low hanging moon and the further away from my troubles I rode, the more stars sparkled above me. It was beautiful, but it did nothing for my current mood.

All I wanted was to take care of my MC and my club brothers, to keep Laura safe. But now it had all gone to shit. My brothers looked at me sideways as if maybe, just maybe, they thought I could be a fucking informant for the fucking cops. Laura thought it was likely—or at least possible—that I was selling humans.

What the fuck was I doing any of this shit for anyway?

It seemed like none of it fucking mattered, but I wasn't a quitter. I didn't give up on shit because it was hard. I figured it out and plowed right through it, but as the low-fuel light came on and I pulled into the next gas station off the highway, I began to wonder if it was worth it.