Page 11 of Shielding Lexi (Temptation)

When Hawk says it, somehow it sounds more logical and comforting. Even his eye contact is different. It’s softer, kinder somehow.

“Don’t take it personally, Lexi. He’s slow to trust people and the whole Dagger thing is a huge trigger right now. But it’s not about you, it’s about him and his sister. He’s still raw about what happened to her. It’s a long story, but they were really close and he’s just not over it. In some ways, I doubt he’ll ever be,” he stops himself before saying more, and attacks a dirty pot with a scrubbing brush instead.

“I know you guys want to spare me the details, but just be honest with me, will you?”

He nods, and I feel confident enough to go on.

“She’s dead, isn’t she? And you all think Brick had something to do with it.” My heart hammers in my chest because I don’t want to know the answer. My eyes dart around the room uncomfortably and it’s hard to concentrate.

Hawk senses my distress, then dries his hands off on his pants before drawing me into his embrace. I let myself rest against his hard, muscled body, letting his warmth comfort me, and he feels so good. I wish I could stay in his arms all night. He rubs his hand along my back. His touch is gentle and soothing.

“I shouldn’t say either way. I’m sorry. It’s not my place.” I pull away from his chest and look up at him, studying the gentle lines on his face. He’s handsome and honest, and he wants to protect his friends, while at the same time, trying to soothe me… a complete stranger. I kind of admire that.

“The key thing is,” he says, running his large hand down over my arm, “Reaper thinks Brick’s to blame and he keeps pushing as he looks for answers. The Prez of our club has been trying to avoid a war between the Guardians and the Daggers for a while. This trip was his idea to help Reaper settle down.”

“So the Prez sent you and Hawk to keep him company?” I conclude, knowing their role is for moral support more than anything. “I can see that. You two are great company for him. You’ve been great with me too.”

Our gaze meets, and an energy passes between us that I can’t describe. It’s like ‘I get you’, and ‘I’ve got you’ all at once and I want more—like it’s a drug. The only drug that’s making me feel better out here.

Hawk breaks our stare and looks away, dipping back into the soapy water to finish the dishes, and I’m left staring at the refrigerator.

Did he not feel what I just felt? Probably not, I’m obviously having some sort of trauma response.

“Look Lexi,” he says, still focusing on the dishes, “I know you’d rather be anywhere but here, but don’t judge him too harshly. He’s just been battered by life lately. Trust me, he’s a good guy.” He fixes me with an open, honest stare. I trust he’s telling me the truth. After all, he’s sharing something personal, something bad.

I purse my lips together and drop my gaze to my work of rinsing the cutlery. It’s not my place to contradict him. Bad shit happens to people. I should know that’s true.

“At the end of the day, we’re brothers. Family. I mean that’s what being part of an MC is about. A sense of kinship and brotherhood. It’s fun when things are easy, but when life turns to shit, you gotta know someone’s got your back. That’s why we all joined the club to begin with. The three of us just got extra close. Hell, we share everything, a house, a boat… a garage. That’s the real challenge,” he laughs. “I think we’d all like our own garage.”

It’s nice to hear him laugh a little, maybe even as comforting as a hug.

“Thanks for sharing all that with me,” I say, stacking the last bowl in the cupboard. “It helps.”

He smiles sympathetically and nods, as a wave of tenderness pricks at my eyes. I try to hide the pain but the tension forces my fingertips along my hairline as a way to ease the ache.

“You need some Tylenol? Looks like you’re getting another headache.” It’s nice that he’s been paying such close attention that he’s noticed not just this headache, but multiple. I nod, as the band of tension tightens. He makes me feel seen and cared for, as opposed to Reaper who would prefer to throw me out in the pouring rain to fend for myself. Well, maybe not, but that’s what it feels like.

Hawk fills a glass with water from the fridge and hands it to me with two white pills from the cupboard. I trust him, but I watch to confirm they spill from a Tylenol bottle—they do.

“You’re probably doing too much too soon,” he says. “That, and this damn humidity doesn’t help. You need rest.”

“Thank you.” I gulp the glass of water down, with the pills, realizing how heavy my body feels. I’m so tired.

“I’ll finish up here. Why don’t you go lie down? It’s getting late and it’ll do you good to rest,” Hawk says, threading his arm around my waist as he escorts me down the hall and into the first room on the right. It’s well kept, with a navy-colored spread and a north-facing window that has a beautiful view of the beach, if a storm shutter hadn’t just been tossed over it.

“Thank you,” I murmur, climbing into bed as Hawk holds up the comforter.

“I’ll check on you in a bit,” he whispers, running his hand back through my hair before he wishes me goodnight and closes the door.

I burrow under the covers, and finally, my head starts to relax as I take in the soft scent of Hawk left behind. It’s a mix between mandarins and some kind of motor oil infused with the woods.

My eyes close and a heavy whooshing sound comes into focus. A cool gust of air sweeps across my skin and I realize It must be the wind blowing through the shutters.

How did I get here? What did Brick do to Reaper’s sister? And how did I not know what kind of guy he is? Worse yet, did I know, but continued on anyway? I let out a heavy sigh as thoughts race around my head, and though I’m exhausted, I find it impossible to settle.

I want to tell the guys what I’ve remembered about Brick, especially Hawk. He’s been so comforting to me. But surely, he’d tell his best friends my secret. I’m the outsider. And I have a feeling, to them… if I’m remembering right, I’m the worst outsider that could’ve washed up here.

In an effort to stop my mind from spinning, and my stomach from turning, I move to counting sheep until the light from the hallway filters into the room and a head pokes in.

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