Page 15 of Hawk

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“It’s Hawk’s story to tell. He and the other Riders are good people. I trust Hawk with my life. If you’re part of his club, he’ll make sure nothing touches you.”

“It’s not like that,” I quickly respond. “I work for Hawk. I’m the new bookkeeper for the garage. It’s not like that at all.” I shake my head.

Jake smiles. “It’s not like what?”

“Well, you know, personal,” I finish with a shrug.

“You think Hawk takes all his pretty new bookkeepers out for lunch at his favorite place, on the back of his bike?” His smile widens.

“I’ve never been on a bike. Hawk thought it would be an experience.”

“Was it?”

I can’t hide my happiness. “I loved it.”

“You’re hooked.”

I feel my cheeks heat up.

“Do you know what it means when a biker puts a woman on the back of his bike?” Jake asks. When I look confused, he says, “It means the woman means something to him.”

I’m about to ask Jake to explain when a hand lands on the small of my back. I twirl around to see Hawk there, looking none too happy, but his attention is fixed on Jake. “Food ready yet?”

“Coming right up,” Jake replies, and adds, “Boys are on their way.”

“Yeah, I know. Drifter sent me a text. Better make enough for the guys too,” Hawk says.

“Already thought of that. Gunner and his goons still around?” he asks.

“Yep.” Hawk sighs, but doesn’t say another word.

“He’s enough to give anyone indigestion. Come with me,” he says, and we follow him through the back door, where a picnic table sits under a tree. “You and the guys can eat out here.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Jake takes off back inside, leaving Hawk and me alone. “I’m sorry about ruining your first time at Jake’s.”

“Eating alfresco is so much better than in a stuffy diner,” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Those guys are trouble, but you’re safe. No one touches you. I swear,” Hawk says in a serious tone.

“What do they want with you?”

“It’s club business, babe, and you don’t factor into it.”

“Is it, uh, safe?” I murmur.

“It’s not the best situation, and not the worst. It’ll be over soon, and with any luck, I’ll never have to see Gunner or his boys again.”

Jake runs back out and puts down a red checkered tablecloth. One of his staff puts two laden plates down along with two beers. Jake and his helper are here and gone in no time. Although I want to ask Hawk more about the Jackals, it’s clear that Hawk isn’t talking, so I change the subject.

Hawk urges me to take a bite of the delicious-looking burrito, and when I do, an explosion of flavors bursts in my mouth. My eyes grow wide, and I let out a groan. “Oh my God!”

“Told you,” he gloats and takes a bite of his own.

Not long after, Drifter and some of the other guys join us. They joke and laugh, and I forget that inside sits a table of Jackals, until I feel eyes on me. I jerk my head to the gate that separates the diner from where we’re sitting. Gunner is staring right at me. A shudder of disgust runs right through me. It’s not that he’s ugly. As a matter of fact, he would be handsome if he did something with his overgrown, scraggly, blond beard, and cut his hair in a style that would complement his rugged face. I take in a harsh breath, alerting Hawk beside me.

“We’re gone,” he tells the guys. “We ride two, three, two. The others ride behind us.” Then he takes me gently by the arm and leads us back to his bike. He reaches for my helmet, but before he puts it on me, he says, “No one touches my Ginger.”

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