“I don’t know that.” She continued to glare at him and it just made him madder.
Afraid he’d put his fist through one of the walls, he shoved his hand in his pocket. “Then you should. We’ve been together long enough for you to know I’m VP and there’s shit I have to do.” He held his hand up, silencing her. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word. I’m not one of your goddamn clients you can tell what to do. I’m outta here.”
He stepped out and slammed the door behind him. When he jumped onto his Harley, his whole body trembled with fury. He’d planned on taking the SUV, but he was so pissed he needed the frosty air to cool him off. Cara went too damn far. Abandoning my family. Fuck her!
The frigid wind roared around, chilling his skin beneath his jacket. In his haste to get away, he’d forgotten to tie back his hair, and the wind whipped the strands against his face and blew them above his head. Instead of cursing the cold, he embraced it as it revitalized him. His breath rose before him in puffs of moisture, and he squinted against the blinding glare of sunlight bouncing off the pristine snow.
By the time he arrived at the clubhouse, his nose was numb, his hair wet, and his fingers were almost white from gripping the handlebars. The warmth of the great room seemed suffocating after coming in from the bitter, energizing cold.
“Hey, brother,” Throttle greeted him as Hawk went over to the bar and grabbed several napkins, running them over his hair. “Did you ride your Harley over here?”
“Yeah. It was fuckin’ awesome.” Hawk drained the shot Rusty put in front of him, then held up three fingers to the prospect, indicating he wanted a triple. Rusty nodded and in less than ten seconds, Hawk grasped a larger glass of Jack.
The great room was beginning to fill up as brothers from all over Insurgents’ territory filed in. Steel strode in with Goldie and Diablo, and the trio came over to Hawk and Throttle.
“How was the ride?” Hawk asked.
“The drive was good. We couldn’t take the bikes because the snow was fucking insane in the San Juan Mountains,” Steel said as he sat next to Hawk.
“Heard the Deadly Demons and the Satan’s Pistons aren’t involved in the drug shit threatening the territory,” Diablo said, grabbing a handful of pretzels from a bowl on the bar.
“Damn straight,” Rock said as he joined the group.
Hawk nodded and looked at his phone as it vibrated. It was Cara. He slipped it back in his pocket. There was no fucking way he was ready to talk to her. Asking me to choose was not the way to go, babe.
A portly man with long blond hair came over to Hawk and high-fived him. “Long time, brother,” he said.
“Rollo. How the fuck have you been?” Hawk handed the brother a bottle of Coors.
“Can’t complain. I hear the pussy’s real good around here.” He brought the bottle to his lips.
Hawk, Throttle, and Rock laughed. “That’s what we hear too, but you’re gonna have to ask one of the brothers who isn’t hitched,” Throttle said.
“That’s right. You all went and did some stupid shit and got old ladies.” Turning to Steel, he pointed to Goldie and Diablo. “What about you guys? Are you pussy-whipped?”
Goldie shook his head. “Hitched, but not pussy-whipped.”
As the men talked, Hawk saw Banger heading his way. They bumped fists, and Banger said his greetings to the Night Rebels brothers. Several of the club girls came in and out of the kitchen, bringing in trays of food that they set down on a long table.
“Your club women fix the grub?” Goldie asked.
“The old ladies,” Banger said. “Belle’s in charge, and she got a few of them together to help.” He looked at Hawk. “She said Cara couldn’t make her delicious sausage and peppers because she was cooking for a family dinner. If you gotta leave to join her, that’s cool. Just make sure to stick around until all the officers from all the chapters get here. It may be kinda late. Not sure how long the dinner’s gonna go on.”
“I’m here for the night.” Hawk turned away and watched Kristy and Lola as they carried in platters of ribs and fried chicken. Kristy smiled and waved at him, and he lifted his chin to her.
“Who makes your food?” Jax asked Steel.
“We have a cook, Lena.”
“Fuck, aren’t you all sophisticated and shit? You have a cook,” Jerry said, and they laughed.
“Hey, Hawk,” Wheelie said, squeezing between him and Axe to get a drink.
“What’re you up to?” Hawk felt his phone vibrate.
“Not much. This should be a good party. I’ve seen some brothers I haven’t talked to since August in Sturgis.” He grabbed a drink and stood in front of Hawk.
“You doing good?” Hawk watched Wheelie’s face to see if he could pick anything up. Ever since Wheelie had offered to watch Sofia that weekend Tigger had gone on a poker run, Hawk had been anxious. He really liked the brother and didn’t want to have to beat his ass. The brother he couldn’t stand was Tigger, but he was a patched member and deserved the respect and loyalty afforded to all in the brotherhood.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just asking.”
“I’ll see you.” Wheelie ambled away and vanished into the crowd.
Hawk looked at his phone. Another call from Cara. And a text. He put the phone in his pocket. She had to respect him and not question his decisions when it came to the club. He loved her so much and had shown her in so many ways that she was number one in his life, and her questioning that left a real bitter taste in his mouth. I bet Belle wouldn’t have said shit to Banger. She understands he’s got a responsibility to the club. She knows her role. Cara could take some fuckin’ lessons from her.
“Hey, cutie. You look super pissed. Aren’t you having fun?” A soft hand curled around his bicep.
Glancing sideways, he saw the new club girl who kept trying to get his cock in her pussy. For the life of him, Hawk couldn’t remember her name.
“Don’t feel like talking? That’s okay. Do you want me to get you some food?” She came in closer, and he could see her tits through her skimpy top.
“I don’t want anything. Circulate. They’re a shitload of out-of-state brothers who need taking care of.”
“Just call me if you get lonely.” She sashayed away.
His phone kept vibrating, and he almost answered it when the presidents of three of the chapters came up to him, pulling him into a bear hug.
As the night wore on, Hawk talked too much, smoked too much, and drank too much. By the time two thirty rolled around, he was plastered, sitting on a bar stool breathing in smoky air. His head spun and the whole room whirled around as if it were on a carousel, slow at first and then faster and faster. Swaying on the stool, he gripped the edge of the bar and stood up. Blood rushed to his head, and he pressed his hands to his temples as if the simple gesture would stop the constant throbbing.
“Need some help, cutie?” A woman in a low top with big tits pressed her soft body against his.
“Cara? What the fuck are you doing at the club, baby?”
“My name’s Heather,” the woman said stiffly.