Page 53 of Savage Guardian

“Yeah. He’s calling Benson as a ghost, then he’s coming back here. The brother is going to need some whiskey and wet pussy to get that shit out of his head.”

“No doubt.” Trouble, a former Army Ranger who’d served with Odin for over ten years, had seen his fair share of atrocities. One didn’t see a beheading and not feel something—Trouble would know. Even though it had been years for Trouble—from Ranger to Savage Rides bike shop manager, there was still an edge to the man, one Hawk respected.

Other than the sounds of Rob Zombie grinding through the speakers, there was silence between them. Trouble’s gaze raking over Hawk’s face, searing away the layers of skin to see the bone and blood that made the man. At least, that’s what it felt like he was doing.

“What’re you doin’, brother?” he finally asked, making Hawk sit back at the weight in his question.

Because he knew exactly what his VP was asking—he was asking himself the same damn thing.

“Fuck if I know, man.” And that was the truth.

Trouble tapped his blunt fingers against the top of the scuffed table. “Start at the beginnin’. I know ‘bout your thing with Aoibheal. You were champin’ at the bit to meet her, and when Odin hands you the chance….” He shrugged. “It feels like you’re a little lost, brother.”

“Shit. Lost and dying of thirst, Trouble,” Hawk admitted, thrusting his fingers through his overlong hair in exasperation.

“I don’t get that. I don’t get why Fae is stayin’ here if it’s Carrie you’ve got a hard on for. Doesn’t make much sense to me that you’d keep the sister so close if its Aoibheal you’re wantin’.”

Didn’t make any fucking sense to him, either.

“Spill it, brother. Like I said to Odin when had his head up his ass ‘bout Skathi, you’ve gotta lay it all out. Maybe an outside perspective will give you clarity.”

Hawk blinked at the man across the table. “When did you become goddamn Dr. Phil?”

Trouble smirked, chuckling. “I’ve always been a wiseass, and now I’m just wise. Takin’ a lot of my own shit to see the path of my own mistakes. Hopin’ to help a few brothers keep from losin’ the good they got.” The smile on Trouble’s face slipped away, replaced by a hardness that Hawk usually saw when the man sat alone. Thinking. Drinking.

Hawk sighed. There was a lot to unpack there. Trouble had been with the club since the beginning, and even though he held a position as VP, none of the brothers except their prez knew much of anything about Trouble’s past…or his personal life. The man was a blank spot, with a darkness to him that cast a shadow wherever he went. The only thing Hawk knew about the VP was that he and the concierge doctor, Liz Simpson, had a history.

“You fuck the sister?” Trouble didn’t sugarcoat a damn thing.

Hawk grunted, wishing he had a triple shot to throw back to burn away his next words. “I think it was a mistake.”

Trouble arched a brow and tipped his head, wordlessly signaling for Hawk to continue.

“When I first got the assignment for Aoibheal, I was fucking over the moon, man. I couldn’t wait to show up that first day and just…I dunno…see if she was as beautiful and amazing as I wanted her to be.” He sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You can’t listen to her music and not think that’s she fucking gorgeous—I mean, her voice alone is like nothing I’ve ever heard—felt—before. It was like she reached down into my goddamn chest and stole my heart. I know it makes me sound like a pussy, but that’s the truth.”

“Better men than you have fallen, brother. There’s no shame in it,” Trouble offered, his tone edged with something Hawk couldn’t identify.

“Then, when I met her, I was left with a sense of…loss. Disappointment.”

“Carrie’s fine as fuck. What’s the problem?”

“You cannotlisten to Aoibheal’s music and not feel you know her, like you have seen her soul. It’s that deep, man. That incredible. So, when I met Carrie, talked with her, listened to her talk…it was incongruent with how she was in her music.”

“Incongruent,” Trouble smirked. “There’s your fancy ass ivy league education talkin’.”

Hawk growled. “Fuck you.”

Trouble chuckled again. “Yeah, yeah. Calm the fuck down. So, Carrie isn’t who you wanted her to be, so what’s that got to do with the sister? Why you stakin’ claim on her and not Aoibheal?”

“I ain’t staking shit,” Hawk sneered, biting back a string of curses—at himself and Trouble.

“Bullshit. We all heard you in Church, growlin’ like a dog guardin’ a juicy bone. And I know you brought her here before, and with what Grimm said ‘bout that little visit, I’m thinkin’ it wasn’t just a friendly visit, neither.”

“So, I can’t bring friends?” Hawk snapped, frustrated at Trouble for holding a mirror up to all the shit Hawk had done—when he should have just left Fae alone.

“Friends? Sure. Women who aren’t club whores? Never. And it ain’t just that, brother. We been sittin’ here for what…ten, fifteen minutes? In that time, I’ve seen you look in her direction no less than ten times. You’re watchin’ her, and your face gets tight whenever one of your brothers does the same. You’re hooked, man.”

He had been doing that, staring at Fae, watching her face as she smiled, laughed, and chatted with the women.

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