Page 26 of Hawk

“I can. I just need time.”

“You’ve had lots of time. I want you to convince me. Now,” I reply.

He chuckles. “What is this, like a job interview?”

I lean over the table, pinning him to his seat with my eyes. “No, this is your life interview,” I growl. “I want you to give me one good reason why the Ruthless fucking Kings should keep backing you. Just one. I want you to tell me how you plan on getting your shit back on track. And I want you to tell me why I shouldn’t just liquidate this partnership right here and right now.”

His face darkens and his eyes narrow. He balls his hands into fists, and I can see him clenching his jaw. It’s the first time I’ve seen the barest spark of fire in him since I got here. It’s about damn time. But getting that fire going in his gut again isn’t going to be enough. I need to see more from him. A lot more. I just need to keep pushing him to see if he’s got it inside of him or if it’s gone out of him entirely.

“I still control this city—”

“Do you? Because on our little riding tour today, it sure looked like the Desert Deviants were making strong inroads,” I counter. “I mean shit, just based on what I saw today, I’d say it looks a hell of a lot more like the Deviants run Phoenix. Not the Howlers.”

“Then you ain’t lookin’ in the right places.”

“No? Then where should I be looking? I mean, just riding around today, I saw twice as many Deviant cuts than I’ve seen in your entire clubhouse, man.”

“Yeah, they’ve got numbers right now. That shit’s gonna change though,” he growls. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve got it under control.”

“And how? With Sharp’s guys from Tucson?”

“Yeah.”

I can’t help myself; I give a grin. Now I’ve got him.

“Now the funny thing is, I gave Sharp a call this morning. Now, to your credit, he did tell me he had some guys up here helping you out. But he also told me you couldn’t pay up. They stayed for a week and came back. And they ain’t coming back until you can pay what you owe. With interest.”

Hammerhead glowers and clenches his fingers in and out, clearly upset that I called him out. But I can’t take any more of these lies.

“Listen, bud. From where I stand, it looks like you laid your bike down and left little more than a bloody smear on the blacktop. And it looks like you’ve got nothing under control,” I say with a chuckle. “And I still haven’t heard you say why I shouldn’t just blow this all up right here and right now. What is your plan?”

He licks his lips nervously. “I’m gonna get off the shit.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I will. I swear it.”

“Uh-huh. And how are you going to do that?”

He shrugs. “Cold turkey,” he tells me. “I’m just going to white-knuckle my way through this shit.”

“You do know that shit never works, right?”

“Yeah well, it ain’t like I can afford some fancy rehab.”

“AA is free. Start going to meetings.”

“The fuck I will. I don’t do meetings.”

I drain half my beer in one long swallow, never taking my eyes off him. Unlike before though, he’s not shifting in his seat. Not squirming. There’s a fiery gleam in his eye and a look of determination and resolve about his face. It’s the face of the man I met all those years ago. Finally.

I have my doubts that he can white-knuckle his way off a meth addiction, though. But at least I’m seeing that spark of the guy I met before. It’s not much and I’m not totally sold on this working yet. But at least it’s something.

“You want to stay in business with the Kings, you’re going to get your house in order, man. Starting with yourself. As of right now, you’re off the shit. You want to keep our money rolling in, you’re going to do some things,” I tell him. “You’re gonna go to meetings. You’re gonna get your clubhouse in order. You’re gonna start bringing in prospects. And you’re gonna start bathing and wearing clean clothes regularly. You smell like an open sewer.”

His face darkens again and he glowers at me. I can see his expression tightening and his body growing taut. He’s on the verge of exploding and is really fighting his nature right now. He wants to blow up but he’s afraid to. Hammerhead seems to finally realize he’s at a fork in the road. Down one path is our money drying up, which will likely lead to the destruction of his club. Down the other, though, is a continuation of the partnership and the money flowing into his coffers. What bothers me the most is that he seems to be struggling with the decision.

I’m this close to adding one more term for him to agree to. All I need to do is say it:“And you’re gonna leave Molly alone. You’ll treat her with some fucking respect.”

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