Page 80 of Hawk

He looks up at me, a thousand questions flashing through his eyes. But all he can do is shake his head. A moment of strained and awkward silence descends between us as neither of us knows quite what to say just yet. But then my anger takes over and I grit my teeth. I’m seething and am having a hard time controlling my anger.

I want to lash out. I want to break something. Smash it to pieces. More than that though, I want to hurt somebody.

No, not somebody. One person. I want to hurt Hammerhead. And I want to hurt him bad.

I want to take my Louisville slugger and beat him to a bloody fucking pulp.

We’re sitting in the clubhouse, the only two in the place, sharing a beer. Jenkins is sitting in his carrier on the chair next to me. I know Molly would kill me if she knew I brought our little boy in here. She was the one who insisted on keeping Jenkins out of the clubhouse, not wanting the rough and tumble crowd to rub off on him. I can’t say I blame her. We’re all pretty coarse in here and I don’t want him to be exposed to that either. But right now, I don’t really have much of a choice. I need help with this.

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” I growl. “If she so much as has a hair out of place, I’m going to cut out his fucking heart and feed it to him.”

“Let me talk to my dad—”

I shake my head. “Nah. Not for this one. This is personal,” I tell him. “I’m going to ride down to Phoenix on my own. I want to look him in the eye personally as I cut his nuts off.”

“Are you sure he’s keeping her in Phoenix?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t. I’m assuming,” I tell him. “Your dad told me Hammerhead’s been seen at his old clubhouse. Worst case scenario is I roll in there, he’s not there, and the only thing lost is time.”

“Well, time and having to figure out where she actually is,” he points out.

“I’m trying to avoid thinking about that,” I tell him. “Right now, I’m going with the idea that she’s at the Howlers clubhouse. If she’s not, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. So, I’m just going to think positive right now.”

He nods. “It’s a good idea.”

“So, can you do this for me?” I ask.

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“You’re one of the only people I really trust in all the world. Of course I trust you with my son,” I tell him. “And I know if anything happens to me that you’ll do the right thing by him.”

“Don’t you even go there. Get that fuckin’ thought out of your head right now,” he snaps, his voice hard. “Nothing is goin’ to happen to you.”

“You know there are no guarantees.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he insists. “You are going to come back to your son and to the club.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Speaking of plans, do you happen to have one for dealing with this prick?” he asks.

“What, rolling in with guns blazing and putting two in his head isn’t a plan?”

“Not the most well thought out plan, no.”

“I’m not in the mood to get creative,” I tell him. “I think the direct approach is the best approach. He didn’t leave my old cut to be subtle.”

“No. No, he did not.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Of course I will,” he replies. “And you had best come back here. I’m not going to put up with you gettin’ yourself smoked.”

“Going to do my best.”

“Do better than that.”

I snap him a salute. “Yes, sir. Will do.”

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