Page 8 of Hawk

Hawk shrugged and then the bike was in motion. When Hawk gave it more gas, my grip tightened. He was hard all over, and I tried really hard not to notice and instead focused on the fact that I was on the back of a motorcycle. Flying through the streets of Steel City on the deadliest vehicle known to man.

What the hell is my life?

I risked opening my eyes and I was amazed at the speed, at the colors as the city flew by us, or rather, as we flew through the city. It was amazing. It was actually kind of thrilling and I forced myself to relax and enjoy the ride. My fingers remained tight on Hawk, but it was no longer a death grip, now cautious but relaxed.

I still couldn’t believe what had happened in the past twenty minutes. A group of gangsters tried to abduct—and likely kill—me, and then the guy I’d shot down and pegged as an arrogant jerk swooped in to save me. Except to save myself, I’d have to pretend to be his girlfriend. It was insane and I had to be crazy to consider it, never mind saying yes.

It was fine. I could pretend to date Hawk to save my life, and despite his little joke, I would not fall for him.

With that settled, I jumped off the bike as soon as it came to a stop inside a newly paved parking lot. My legs wobbled and nearly gave out, but Hawk was right there, strong arms wrapped around me to keep me steady. “Always happens the first couple of times.”

Why did he have to be so friendly? “Thanks. That was unexpected.”

“It’s the vibrations,” he whispered in my ear before taking a step back, but never releasing me. “Just take slow steps and hang on to me like an adoring girlfriend.” He hooked my arm through his and rested my hand on his bicep. A very hard and strong bicep.

“You are insufferable, you know that?”

His deep laughter bounced around the parking lot. “You have to say that because you love me.” He held the door open and waved me inside.

I stopped and looked around at the large diner that was decorated in hideous shades of orange and green and brown. It was as if the seventies threw up and created a diner. “What is this place?”

He laughed again. “Isn’t it great? Fuck those fifties and sixties style diners, this is all about the seventies, baby—the decade of classic rock and free riding.”

I turned to look at him and I really shouldn’t have because holy hell, was he beautiful when he smiled. It was almost boyish, or it would’ve been if he wasn’t so damn masculine and big, so utterly male it was hard to see him as anything but sexy. And confident. “To each their own, I guess.”

“You say that now, but wait until you taste the Hawaiian meatballs or the pasta primavera or the seven layer salad. Delicious.”

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me I’m not fake dating a man who eats peas in his salad.”

Hawk laughed again and led me to a booth. “Okay, fine, but we’re starting with the cheese ball. It’s incredible.” He was like a kid in the candy store, and it shouldn’t have been so damn appealing.

But it was. It really, really was.

“Fine with me. Don’t think I’ve had one since I was a little girl and my grandmother thought they were the height of sophistication for every family gathering.”

Once our orders were placed, Hawk turned to me with a curious gaze. “What made you want to be a nurse?”

“I like helping people and I’m good in an emergency. Plus, I’m not squeamish.” I waited for the inevitable question about my dating life, but it never came. “What about you, why a biker?”

“They are my brothers,” he answered simply. “I’m the MC secretary.” His answer was proud, which surprised me.

“Is that similar to the secretary of any other organization? Taking notes, recording club details, and all that?”

Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Yep, exactly.”

“So do you guys get hazed before you join?” I knew next to nothing about motorcycle clubs or biker gangs, definitely not enough to know the difference between the two.

“Hazed? Not exactly, but there is a probationary period before you become an official member.” He leaned forward so we were closer. A few inches separated us, but it was enough to count at least four different shades of green in his eyes. “What else do you want to know?”

“What do you guys do other than ride your bikes around?”

He laughed. “Plenty. We run several businesses, help out the community where we can, protect our interests. And we party. We really love to party.”

I could almost picture it. “Like an adult frat house with a revolving door of gorgeous women?”

“Yes and no. There are women. There are always women, but three of my brothers have recently fallen in love.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile was affectionate and teasing. “But not like a frat house. Not at all.”

The food arrived and we dug in, but the conversation never slowed. He told me a little about his club brothers in the Steel Demons and I told him about Kristy. “She’s my closest friend. She’s great.”

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