Unbeloved

Chapter Twenty

It was being touted as a party, but I knew what the reality of this impromptu get-together at the clubhouse really was. A good-bye party. Everyone had come—the boys, their wives or girlfriends, and all of their children. Even the nomads, the men who didn’t live in Miles City, had shown up.

Feeling pride in Hawk’s sacrifice, his true past all but forgotten, they’d all come to pay their respects, as well as say good-bye to one of their own.

As much as I appreciated their efforts, I didn’t feel much like a party, and so I stayed on the sidelines, avoiding everyone. I wanted nothing more than to be curled up in bed beside Hawk, running my hands over him, every inch of him, memorizing every plane and hollow of his body, the feel of every muscle and bone beneath his skin, every line on his face, every callus on his hands, every hair, both coarse and soft, upon his body.

I wanted to stare at his face, into his eyes, until it was all I could see, so much so that every time I would close my eyes from now until forever, it would be those fiercely handsome, dangerously dark features that would form in the blackness of my subconscious.

I wanted to keep him with me even when he couldn’t be with me himself.

But I wasn’t the only one who loved Hawk and wanted to spend much-needed time with him before he left us. He might have never been much of a talker, always more of doer than the others, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t formed bonds with them over the years.

I surveyed the room, my eyes dancing across the many faces until I found the one I sought. Hawk was seated on a bar stool, leaning heavily to his right with a crutch nestled under his arm, bearing most of his weight. His head was freshly shaven, his Mohawk gone, and all that remained of his beard was a couple of days’ worth of prickly growth.

But it wasn’t his handsome features that held my gaze. It was the strength behind them. The inner man.

I loved him for that strength. For being the devoted father he was, for never once giving up on me despite my reluctance. But mostly I loved him for loving me in the face of my many, many weaknesses.

Jase and I were never meant to be. Jase and I were one and the same, both weak minded, and weak willed. We’d both felt trapped, stuck in lives we’d never wanted, and because of that had come together during a dark and seemingly hopeless time in my life.

For a short time, he’d been what I’d truly wanted.

But never what I’d needed.

Hawk was the strong, sturdy, emotionally solid man I needed, and I could only hope that one day Jase would realize this truth as well and find a woman who provided him with the same sort of support and unconditional love.

My only solace in losing Hawk was the knowledge that I would never lose that love. He might not be able to physically be with me during the time he’d be gone, but he’d never leave me. And not even the thick concrete walls and steel bars of a prison could take that from me.

“I’d be willin’ to bet he’ll be in for ten years, max.”

The couch dipped as Deuce dropped down on the cushion beside me, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Five to seven with good behavior,” Deuce continued. “It’ll go by before you know it, and he’ll be home again.”

Sighing, I turned away from Hawk to give Deuce my full attention. God knew the man wouldn’t deal well with being ignored.

Holding a drink in his hand, Deuce offered it to me. “You’ll get through this, D.”

Deuce said ten years as if it were nothing, as if ten years were just a blip in the span of a life that usually only consisted of sixty or seventy, and that was if you were lucky.

Ten years meant ten long years without the man I loved, and Christopher growing up without his father. Ten years was ten goddamn years, and it was most certainly not a blip.

I would be in my fifties, Christopher would graduating high school, and Hawk would have missed it all. Swallowing back a wave of sorrow, I chased my feelings with a large gulp of whatever Deuce had brought me and ended up nearly choking to death. What was this? Rubbing alcohol?

“He wants you here, you know?” Deuce said quietly, leaning toward me. “He wants you and the boy here so he knows you’re bein’ takin’ care of. I gotta say, D, that I agree with him. I can help you find a house, a job, whatever you need.”

As much as I hated uprooting Christopher from his school, his friends, and his city, I would be a liar if I didn’t admit I didn’t want to return to San Francisco. Especially with the loss of Hawk’s visits, I would have no one but Christopher. Tegen’s friends were nice enough, but I was never able to connect emotionally with them. I wanted to be with my daughter, to be around women my own age . . . and of course, the club.

But I didn’t need Deuce to find me a house, not when I was related to the only real estate agent in town.

And it was about time I faced my family.

“I’ll call my sister,” I said. “See what’s on the market.”

“How long’s it been since you and her spoke?”

I shrugged again. “A very long time.”

“Your folks too?”

Sighing, I nodded. “I know they’ve reached out to Tegen a few times, and so have her father’s parents, but she’s told me she made it clear to them that she wants nothing to do with them.” I shook my head. “Then of course she had to take it one step further and tell them her name was Tegen West, ensuring they knew exactly who her father-in-law was.”

I gave Deuce a pointed look. “I can only imagine the looks on their God-fearing faces.”

Deuce barked out a deep belly laugh that drew the attention of nearly everyone around us.

“You better put that shit on my tab,” he said, still chuckling. “And, D? I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”

I didn’t think he would. He never had, and I’d learned that back when he’d insisted on paying for Tegen to live in San Francisco. I wasn’t dumb enough to refuse his offer, not when all I had were my disability checks, and what little was in my savings. It wasn’t nearly enough to purchase a decent home for my son to grow up in.

“I’m on it, Prez,” I teased. “But only if you can promise me that it’s safe.”

Deuce gave me a sidelong look. “Safe?” he asked, perplexed.

I shrugged, feeling out of place talking to Deuce about his business. “The Russians? From everything Hawk has told me, and what he plans to do . . . Won’t there be some sort of retaliation? What if they find out Christopher is Hawk’s son?”

Deuce grimaced. “I’ve got some shit lined up as a fuckin’ safeguard. I can’t promise they ain’t gonna hit us back, but I can promise it ain’t gonna be in my fuckin’ town, and ain’t nobody gonna think that little leprechaun is Hawk’s boy.”

His gaze shifted to Christopher. Seated on the floor, his legs crossed into a pretzel, my son and a few of the other children were sitting in a circle.

“Looks like you made him all on your own, darlin’.”

I laughed even as I squinted to get a better look at what the children were doing. “What are they doing?” I said. “Is Ivy teaching them . . . ?” I trailed off, my eyes widening. “My God, Deuce, she’s only twelve and teaching them to play poker!”

Deuce shrugged. “Devin, that little fuckin’ shit, taught her.” He shrugged again. “At least it ain’t strip poker.”

As I gaped at him, he gave my leg a conciliatory pat. “Anyways, you let me worry about the Russians and my daughter’s gambling problem. You just raise that boy and live your life, you feel me?”

I looked back at Christopher, then at Hawk, who was engaged in conversation, before looking again at Deuce. His eyes were the softest I’d ever seen them, the kindest too.

“I feel you,” I whispered, grateful for his support, but also beginning to feel very overwhelmed.

“And wherever Hawk gets put away,” he added, “I’ll be takin’ you to see him once a month. Myself.”

It wasn’t much, a visit once a month, but it was something. And it would have to serve in tiding me over for the next . . . ten years.

**•

“This is nice,” Dorothy said, snuggling closer to Hawk.

Lounging one of the club’s many reclining chairs, Hawk was able to keep his leg propped up as well as have Dorothy, as tiny as she was, seated on his lap, her body wound around his.

It was nice. Strange and really fucking nice. Nice because the pain meds he’d taken just a short while ago were kicking in, and strange because he and Dorothy had never done this before . . . just hung out, being lazy and stupid.

And even stranger because not only had they spent the day at the club together, they’d spent it as a couple in front of everyone, but especially in front of Jase, for the very first time.

As far as Jase was concerned, while Hawk didn’t have the warm fuzzies for the guy, even he had to admit that losing a brother pretty much sucked, even if that brother was a complete fucking asshole. But Jase had always been looking for something more; any moron who knew him knew that. The only problem was that the biggest moron of them all, Jase, never had a clue. Now that he was moving on, finally taking control of his life, Hawk hoped the man could find what he’d been searching for all these years.

And if whatever that was kept him away from Dorothy, then great. Super. Hawk was a happy fucking guy.

“It was nice of Tegen to take Christopher home,” she said. Running her hand slowly down the front of his chest, she pulled the material of his T-shirt up over his abdomen and began giving his bare stomach the same treatment.

“Nice that everyone got the fuck outta here,” he said, closing his eyes. Yeah, this was nice.

Dorothy snorted softly, causing her body to shake lightly against his. “Cox came back,” she whispered. “Three guesses what he’s doing?”

Hawk didn’t give a shit about what Cox was doing. Actually, he didn’t give a shit about what anyone was doing other than Dorothy and the way her fingers had crept down his stomach and were now dipping below the waistline of his sweatpants.

“Feel fuckin’ ridiculous in these giant fuckin’ pants,” he mumbled. Even more ridiculous than the sweatpants were the fact that one of the legs had been cut off in order to provide room for his fucked-up leg and cast.

“No way,” Dorothy cooed, kissing his neck, reaching even farther down his pants. Beneath her small hand his dick, thankfully not affected by his pain pills, was instantly alert. “They’re so easily accessible.”

Yep. This was nice. Probably surpassed even nice, but Hawk was really feeling the effects of those pain pills and his brain wasn’t exactly functioning on all cylinders. Nice was about the best he could come up with.

“So I was talking with Deuce earlier,” she said.

Hawk’s upper lip curled in disgust. Why the fuck was she talking about Deuce? Stroking his cock and talking about Deuce? Those two things definitely did not coincide happily.

“And I’m taking him up on his house offer,” she continued.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking down at her. “You’re gonna move back here?”

She smiled up at him, and he noticed for the first time how relaxed she looked. Too relaxed for Dorothy.

“Woman, you been drinkin’?” He got his answer when she giggled in response.

Grinning, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Thank fuck Deuce had made good on his word. Nothing made him happier than knowing Christopher was going to grow up here, among his family and the club. He’d never liked the fact that Dorothy had hightailed it out to California, and had figured once Tegen had moved back home, Dorothy would follow, but she hadn’t. And since shit between them had been as awkward as all hell, he’d never suggested it.

Didn’t matter now, though, did it?

He could rest easy inside whatever fucking prison the Feds ended up locking his ass up in, knowing that Dorothy and his son were going to be living in Horsemen territory, under Deuce’s certain protection.

“I want every report card,” he said. “Every disciplinary notice, every school picture. I want it all, D.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

“And no wrestling,” he continued, letting his hand drop down her back and onto her backside. His hands were big enough, her ass small enough, that one entire ass cheek fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. Yeah, real fucking nice. Jesus, was he that high that his vocabulary suddenly only consisted of “nice”?

“Wrestling?” she asked.

“Yeah, don’t let Christopher wrestle for school. Don’t want my boy wearing one of those gay-ass singlets. Football’s okay, baseball, basketball, fuck, even soccer. Just no goddamn wrestling.”

Dorothy giggled again. “No wrestling,” she said. “Got it.”

“I mean it, woman,” he growled, playfully squeezing her ass.

“Did you wrestle as a child?” she asked, laughing. “Are you having painful singlet flashbacks?”

Hawk fell silent. He hadn’t had the luxury of an average, everyday childhood. He’d gone to a private school and rather than engaging in sports or typical extracurricular activities, he’d both attended and thrown lavish parties. Even as a young child, his life had never been ordinary. Going as far back as his memory would allow him, he could recall piano lessons, suit fittings, and an army of nannies, all of them more for his father’s personal enjoyment rather than to fulfill childcare duties.

“I’m sorry,” Dorothy whispered. She stared up at him, her expression full of worry, and asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

“Nah,” he said. “Just thinkin’ back.”

“You should tell me,” she said, sounding hopeful. “About your other life. I feel like there is so much about you I don’t know and—”

“No,” he said with more force than he’d meant to, and Dorothy flinched.

“Shit, I’m sorry, D,” he said quietly, squeezing her closer. “Like I already told you, that ain’t my life anymore. You and Christopher, the club, that’s who I am now. Don’t need to be lookin’ back at bullshit.”

She was about to smile, he could tell by the way her eyes had lit up, and he was about to smile in response until just as quickly her bottom lip began to tremble and those eyes of hers filled with tears.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, rubbing his hand across her back in large circles. “No crying, D. More dick touching.”

A sort of sputtering sob erupted from her and her body began to shake. Hawk bent his head to the side to get a better look at her face, and found she was laughing. Well, still crying, but also laughing.

And just as he was about to insist that he hadn’t been joking and definitely wanted more dick touching, the gate monitor behind the bar began to buzz.

“The gate is opening,” Dorothy muttered, stretching her body to look over the back of the chair.

“Means whoever it is has the code and key,” he said, then added, “And whoever the fuck it is, is going to die for interrupting us.”

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed, startling Hawk.

Suddenly Dorothy was cursing up a storm, scrambling off his lap and nearly falling flat on her face on the floor beside the chair. “Shit!”

“What?” Hawk shouted, looking around for a threat. “What the fuck, woman?”

“Kami!” Dorothy screamed, pointing to the window as she made a mad dash for the front door. “Kami is here!”

“So fuckin’ what?” he muttered, slumping back down.

“So what?” Dorothy shouted, throwing herself against the door. “Cox is in the back! With that girl!”

Annoyed, Hawk closed his eyes and lifted his shoulder. “His funeral.”

“OPEN THIS DOOR!” came a very familiar and annoying high-pitched scream from outside the clubhouse.

“Are you kidding me?” Dorothy exclaimed, grabbing the doorknob as it began to jiggle. “What about brotherhood? You’re just going to let Kami kill him?”

He cracked an eyelid at her. “Never did much like all the fuckin’ cheatin’ that goes on around here.”

Dorothy paused and as she turned to look at him, her mouth slightly agape, she loosened her grip on the door. When it came swinging open, Dorothy was knocked backward and into the wall, where she fell to a heap on the floor.

“Where is he?” Kami screamed, her blonde hair flying wildly around her face as her head whipped back and forth. “Where is that cheating motherfucker?”

“Jesus Christ, Kami!” Hawk shouted, struggling to sit up, wishing he could reach his crutches and get the fuck out of this chair. “D! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she called out, and when she lifted her head so he could see her face, he relaxed back in his chair, relieved that she wasn’t hurt.

“Fuck you both,” Kami snapped, marching forward.

“Kami!” Pushing herself up off the floor, Dorothy struggled to stand upright. “Kami, do you have a weapon?”

“No, I do not have a fucking weapon!” Kami screamed over her shoulder. “Do you really think I’d risk going to jail for that Mexican whore?”

“Puerto Rican,” Hawk muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up, Gorbachev!”

“Real original!” he shouted after her, wishing now more than ever that he could reach at least one of his crutches, if only to throw it at that bitch’s damn head. “Real fuckin’ original!”

Rubbing the back of her head, Dorothy made her way back to him, her eyes wide as she stared down the hallway at Kami’s retreating back.

“We should go,” she whispered. “Before this gets ugly.”

“Why?” he asked. “His stupid ass got my dick touching interrupted. It’s only fair that I stick around to watch his get interrupted.”

Just as the last word had left his mouth, both a crash and a scream echoed from the back hall and Hawk smiled.

“One,” he muttered under his breath. “Two . . .”

Just then a fully nude, rather chubby-looking girl came running into the room, clutching her clothing to the front of her body. “Help him!” she screamed, running for the front door. “That crazy bitch is going to kill him!”

“Three,” Hawk finished.

“You’re so bad,” Dorothy said, fighting a smile.

He held his arm out to her, gesturing for her to climb back on top of him but instead, her gaze flickered to the hallway. “They’re going to kill each other . . .”

“So fuckin’ what? How is that any different from any other day?”

Still staring off down the hall, Dorothy shook her head. “But did you see her face? This is different. She’s hurt, Hawk, really hurt.”

“Yeah, and Cox ain’t doin’ so well lately himself but that’s their business, their fuckin’ marriage, not ours.”

Another shout sounded, this time sounding more like a sob.

“BITCH,” Cox bellowed. “You won’t fuckin’ touch me, YOU WON’T FUCKIN’ LET ME TOUCH YOU!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Kami screamed. “You are mine! You are mine and you don’t get to be with another fucking woman!”

“THEN FUCKING TOUCH ME, KAMI! AT LEAST FUCKING LOOK AT ME ONCE IN A WHILE!”

And after hearing that, even Hawk had to admit that maybe this wasn’t Cox and Kami’s typical MO. But there still wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to interfere.

“D,” he growled. “Sit the fuck down.”

With a sigh, she shook her head again and then finally, fucking finally, crawled back into his lap. Replacing his hand on her ass, he used his other to shove her hand back down the front of his pants.

And as the screaming and crying down the hallway continued, Dorothy glanced up at him, her freckled nose wrinkled. “This isn’t so nice anymore,” she whispered.

“Just keep playin’ with my dick,” he whispered back, giving her backside a light slap.

“You’re never going to change!” Kami screamed.

“Give me a fuckin’ reason to!” Cox shot back.

Keeping a firm hold on Dorothy, Hawk closed his eyes and sighed. Couple of crazy assholes. But he was really going to miss this place. Crazy assholes and all.