Page 96 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

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HAWK

Isit at the head of the table, my gaze drifting over the faces of my brothers.

Fuck. I’m tired and all I want to do is crawl into bed with Izzy, feel her little mouth wrapped around my cock. My mind can’t help but picture her lips moving up and down my length as her hair falls in soft waves around her face, her cheeks flushed with arousal. Her small hands grip tightly, fingers tracing over the veins on my shaft.

“Cannabis farms have been secured.” Tank, ever the optimist, reported. “We’ll oversee them until we figure out what we want to do with Dead Demons.”

“They’ve called for a truce for now,” Jacks says, at the other side of the table.

“A truce?”

He nods. “Some of their guys were working with Reynolds too. They’ve got their own shit storm to deal with. The damn bastard was trying to control the whole industry in the city.”

“Hawk? Earth to Hawk!” Tank nudging my foot under the table.

“Yeah, I’m listening.” I refocus. “We’ll use this time to regroup, clean up the aftermath of this whole shit storm.”

“We need to tighten security,” Vance adds, his expression serious. “We can’t afford any more surprises. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ve also got to consider our public image,” one of the newer members says, his voice hesitant but earnest. “Reynolds tried to paint us as the villains. We need to turn that around.”

I crack a smile, leaning forward. “No. I don’t think so. Let’s make sure everyone in California knows not to fuck with us. We are the Hellfire Riders. We don’t go around with our tails between our legs. Understood?”

“Understood, Prez.” The room erupts in a chorus of agreement, fists slamming on the tabletop in solidarity.

The room falls silent, each man considering my words. We’ve been through hell, and it’s time to remind everyone who we are.

Jack clears his throat. “So, we show them strength?”

“Exactly,” I say. “We’re not the villains, but we’re not pushovers either. We need to send a clear message.”

“Understood,” Tank says, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll make sure the message is loud and clear.”

The meeting wraps up, the tension in the room slowly dissipating as the guys file out, each with their own tasks to handle. I follow them out, but my mind is already ahead of me, with Izzy. Just as I reach the door, it swings open, revealing a man in a crisp suit with a polished badge gleaming on his belt. It’s the lead officer, there the day we found Laina and captured Reynolds. Detective Mason.

“Hawk,” he says, his voice carrying the authority of a man used to giving orders. “We need to talk.”

I gesture for him to follow me back into the meeting room.

Tank and Vance linger by the door, their expressions wary.

“What can we do for you, Detective?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. I was getting real sick of these guys.

“We have a proposition for you,” he begins, his tone measured. “We need to contain this situation with Reynolds. The last thing we need is the public finding out that one of our own was the Puppeteer, working with criminals and going on a killing spree. He also had an accomplice at the station, an officer named Logan.”

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “And what exactly are you proposing?”

Mason takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “You keep your mouths shut about Reynolds and his activities. In return, we leave you and your club alone. No raids, no surveillance, no interference. We’ll chalk this up to a rogue officer acting alone.”

Tank and Vance exchange a glance, but remain silent, waiting for my response.

“So you want us to lie,” I say, my voice flat. “Pretend none of this ever happened.”

Mason’s jaw tightens slightly. “Not exactly. Just... omit certain details. It’s in everyone’s best interest to keep this quiet. The department can’t afford the scandal, and you don’t need the heat.”

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