Page 17 of Savage Guardian

Hawk slapped his large hand against the table and grunted. Situated in the back of the packed bar, the table was reserved for MC members, which meant it was always manned by one of the brothers on Friday and Saturday nights to help make sure no one trashed the place.

Up to No Good was one of the most popular Strip adjacent bars. Located on a city street that practically pulsed every night, the bar was snug between a male revue club, Down ‘n’ Dirty, and a burlesque-style showroom, Dangerous Curves. When the nakedness ended for the night, the bar flooded with people looking to extend their evenings, blow off some steam, or drink themselves into a stupor to forget their woes until Monday rolled around again.

Tonight, the bar was jammed with post show rabble looking to score after all that naked flesh put them in the mood for fucking.

He wasn’t blind. He saw the way the ladies eyed him and his brothers in their kuttes. He could crook his finger and get any one of them to blow him in the bathroom, but he didn’t want that. Fuck, just the idea of sticking his dick inanywoman made him…weary, which was why he’d tossed back Grimm’s pretentious whiskey and slammed his ass into a seat between Fang and Grimm, who was still pouting like a fucking Irish babe, still in his nappies.

“What’s got you in a funk, asshole?” Grimm asked, raising his arm to get their waitress’s attention. More than likely, he’d stick with the cheap whiskey while Hawk was there. “I thought you were so happy with your new assignment. Rainbows were flyin’ out of your arse.”

“You two fight like an old married couple,” grumbled a voice from behind him. Hawk didn’t even bother turning to look, flipping the bird over his shoulder instead. “I see you’ve matured since becoming Sergeant-at-Arms.” The man chuckled. “And here I was going to buy you the next round of drinks as a way to say ‘congratulations.’”

Hawk grunted, finally turning to greet the newcomer. “In that case, motherfucker, get me a Macallan. I want to taste the pretentious while I have to look at your pretty fuckboy face.”

Tall, ripped, and tatted from knuckle to neck to feet, Dog Gentry, a private security associate with Gentry Elite, a pretty respectable rival in the biz, grinned before heading to the bar to grab the drinks. In no time at all, the fucker was back, his gleaming white teeth making Hawk all kinds of irritable.

“Anyone tell you you’re much too pretty to be a bodyguard?” Hawk griped, grabbing his drink from Dog’s hands, and throwing back the whisky like it was ice water.

“Can you even taste it like that? Might as well be drinking puddle water,” Dog remarked, derision twisting his face.

“Yeah, whyareyou a bodyguard?” Grimm asked, suddenly staring at the waitress across the bar, not really caring about their conversation. The man was always on the hunt for new pussy, despite having the pick of the club bitches, who always jumped at the chance to ride the fucker’s dick.

“My wife,” Dog replied. “Then again, she knew me back when I was a stripper, so she appreciates that I don’t get groped by horny women all night.”

Grimm snickered, the waitress out of sight, so he refocused on Dog. “That’s right. You were a cock swingin’ come tosser over at the shyte house down the way.”

“Down ‘n’ Dirty, yeah. Haven’t been through those doors in over two years, though. Not since taking my dad up on his offer to work for him.”

“Ah, nepotism at its finest,” Hawk drawled wryly, knowing that shit intimately. Nothing said nepotism quite like the passing of ancient noble titles from one McGregor to another without having to work for it.

Dog snorted. “As much as my old man loves me, he wouldn’t hire me to handle a gun if I wasn’t capable of doing it. Marine, brother.”

Hawk, unlike many of his club brothers, never served in the military. He learned all his skills in his twenties in the school of hard knocks. Brawls in the streets mostly, and once he patched in, the self-proclaimed club gun whore, Dragon, dragged him to the range for months until he could shoot a 12 x 18 target at 100 feet with his eyes closed. Now that Skathi was Odin’s old lady, they had another sharpshooter in their ranks—because that woman was scary as hell with a gun in her hand. She was even scarier in the ring, where she trained and spared with him twice per week. Yeah, he was a big bastard, but Skathi was a brutal and deadly opponent.

Once he was confident he could be of use in the club with his gun and fighting skills, he shifted his club duties from runner to bouncer at Up to No Good. Months later, Odin hired him on as a bodyguard for Savage Protection. Now, as SaA, he needed to focus on being the best damn man for the job—much to his father’s displeasure. Not that he gave a shit what the old earl thought of his second son’s life choices.

Hawk loved being a Savage Raider, which was another reason he couldn’t seduce his charge.

Unbidden, an image of Fae McCabe flashed before his eyes. The golden amber of her eyes, the pink pillowy softness of her lips….

No! She wasn’t who he wanted to seduce. The only thing he wanted to do with Fae was investigate her, make sure she would not be trouble for her sister, and leave her the hell alone after that.

Uh huh.

“So, arsehole, what’s got you stealin’ the good whiskey and draggin’ a gray cloud over my evenin’? I was hopin’ to score a little pussy, but with your ugly mug scarin’ away the ladies, I’ll be as hard up for sex as you are.” Grimm was officially Hawk’s least favorite person. It didn’t help that the overgrown leprechaun had a hard on for him because Hawk’s father was Scottish—apparently, there was some kind of an ancient feud between Grimm’s Irish family and the Scots. But Hawk was too tired, too confused, and too frustrated to deal with Grimm’s shit tonight.

“You know what? I’ll tell you,” Hawk exclaimed, making Grimm, Fang, and Dog lean in, their faces rapt and waiting. “I had a client meeting tonight with someone I was very much looking forward to meeting. And….” How could he explain just how disappointed he was in their newest charge? He did not know what his problem was, especially since he’d been so goddamn eager to meet the woman he’d been online stalking for months.

“And what?” Fang asked.

“And…she wasn’t what I was expecting.”That’s an understatement.He gave his internal asshole the finger and ignored the feeling of disappointment that rippled through him.

Grimm scoffed. “That’s what’s got your panties in a twist? Life is full of disappointments, brother. Was she ugly? Fat? A seethin’ bitch?”

“No, she was gorgeous—long blonde hair, sexy as fuck body, a face that could make angels weep.”

“So, what’s the problem? Don’t like blondes?” The confused look on Dog’s face was probably one Hawk shared.

He liked blondes just fine. He was an equal opportunity manwhore. When he’d first set eyes on the woman revealed to be Aoibheal, Hawk had been stunned by her beauty, the elegance in the way she moved. But there was something about her that didn’t fit. He knew he was being an idiot, thinking she would be exactly as he’d dreamed she would. No one could ever meet another’s expectations, especially when they’d never met before. But Aoibheal—or Carrie—was physically arousing, making his cock take notice instantly, but there was something missing. A connection. He loved pussy, could drown in it, but he didn’t want just sex with Aoibheal. He wanted more.

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