Page 49 of Hawk

He did something Eric never did.

He showed up. Over and over again he showed up for me, and how did I repay him? I accused him of being the scummiest type of man in the world, the one who treated other humans as product, as inventory. He wasn’t an enslaver, he was just a biker who often danced on the wrong side of the law, but didn’t we all at some point?

I was grateful for his bravery, his gray moral code that didn’t line up with society’s. I was beyond grateful that Hawk was the man that he was, because that man was pretty fucking amazing.

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.

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