Page 1 of Hawke

Chapter One

Delilah

Thefabricofmyslightly worn coat rustled as I tightened it around my neck. The weather was quickly turning from fall to winter. The wind surged around me, and my hair streamed out behind me, leaving my ears feeling exposed and cold.

The hair band squeezed my wrist tightly, but I wasn’t about to take my hands from underneath the scarf to pull my hair away.

No, I would deal with the wind. It was only a four-block walk, anyway.

The bitter wind nipped at my ears as I looked into the darkness. The street lamps on this side of town didn’t work so well, and the only light came from the bar across the street. A bar full of bikers I owed my life to.

I hopped over a slowly freezing puddle and laughed as I almost lost my balance. I was readying myself by finding the cheerful mindset of the person everyone perceived me to be.

Of course, I was happy. Why wouldn’t I be? I was happy to be alive, to have a job, a home. I had two wonderful roommates, food in my belly, and a warm bed. There was nothing to be sad about.

No, not one thing.

But I was a greedy woman, and I knew exactly why I was having difficulty smiling all the time.

Once I gained my footing, I looked over my shoulder; I felt eyes on my back. My heart thumped in my chest, excitement filling my veins. His warmth seemed to radiate off his stare, and my cheeks heated as my lip curled.

But I bit my cheek, knowing what I needed to accomplish today. So, I continued on, passing rows upon rows of Harleys and speeders that sat in a perfect line. Their helmets, all displaying their names and ranks, sat on the back of the bikes.

My finger traced the grooves of the worn metal door handle. This was once an old, rundown tavern, but over the years, they had slowly renovated it. Locke and his crew had kept a lot of the original structure and character, such as the original thick wooden door and handle. The one thing that was different, however, was that it was expanded, making it large enough for their purposes.

But there were some things that Locke couldn’t get rid of. It still had hanging moss in late summer that fell from the gutters. It gave the place a more welcoming look. Locke hated it, saying it wasn’t a great look for a biker bar.

He didn’t want it to look old and worn down like the rest of this side of town. There were still plenty of office fronts that were old, boarded up, and devoid of any life. But those few offices that were still in business, typically run by a club member, Locke made sure they lived up tohisstandards.

He wanted the buildings to look professional. To look like respectable businesses.

And moss did not make it look like a respectful business, apparently.

The Iron Fang bar stood tall at several stories high. They’d added the extra floors when they renovated it years ago. I remember going through my training and being told about the history of the place. It was only one story way back when, but since, it had exploded, and you could see the difference between the old and new structure. Large stones were cut and laid out in awkward positions, then when Locke added the building, he stuck with brick.

It had a rustic feel. The open, unfinished wood beams that held the place together made it that way. It was like inviting the past into the present with the fancy bar and lighting on one side while the band played on the other.

The bottom floor was meant for customers. The rest—who really knew what went on with the rest of the place—was for members only. I was just a server.

I was pushed forward by the icy wind, and the air was filled with the sounds of people laughing and talking. The wind wrapped around me, my hair blowing into my face until the door shut with a bang. I stepped to the right, seeing the extensive line of hooks for coats, jackets, bags, and a spare helmet or two.

The place was warm with all the bodies in the room. The way the bar and the tables were filled with customers, I knew I was in for a busy night and would warm up just fine.

“Hey there, Delilah,” Anaki sang from far across the bar. He held a worn-out Guinness glass by the base.

The lettering on the etched glass was faded and scratched. He twirled it in his hand, his grip settling on the base, and tilted it to a perfect forty-five-degree angle. Anaki pulled the tap forward, letting the dark beer fill the glass. As the liquid rose, he straightened the dark liquid and left just a half inch of space at the top.

Once he set it down on the tray, I watched the surge settle and waited until the foamy froth rose to the top. “What’s it like in New York City?” Anaki propped himself up on the bar, resting his chin on his fist.

His bright green eyes with flecks of gold glittered in the glow of the band’s lights in the corner. His eyebrows rose, red flushing his cheeks as he took notice of others looking our way. “Because I’m a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so...”

A large hand swatted Anaki on the head. Hawke glared at Anaki, but Hawke’s eyes softened when they landed on me. He came out of nowhere from behind the bar.

Anaki tossed his strawberry blonde hair to the side, moving his body in a way more aggressive jerk than the smack could have created. He placed his hand over his heart, pushing his shirt tight up against his chest. He mock glared at Hawke with innocent eyes.

“I was just singin’ to ‘er. I must express mah love somehow!” Anaki cried in his thick Irish accent and put a cold bottle of water on the tray.

I snickered, knowing that Anaki was only flirting with me to get a rise out of Hawke. He did so every night, and I maybe flirted back just a little.

---