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15
Hawk
Anexcruciatinglylongmonthlater, I was at Titan’s Club, John’s side business. He had opened the by-invitation-only-members club a few years ago and invited Wall Street’s best. A place for the rich to let off some steam in the gym and have a meal afterward.
In the MMA cage, I was sparing against my buddy Stephen. He was a big fucker. We were the same height, but he had at least forty pounds of muscle on me.
And, as usual, he was angry about something. About everything, actually. He’d turned into a real grump over the years. But I still loved the oaf. And owed him more than he could ever know.
His swing came in fast and hard. I sidestepped, missing the punch. He might have been bigger, but I was quicker. Stealthier.
For a Wall Street suit, he kept himself in shape and knew how to fight. I think this was his therapy. The guy had way too much pent-up frustration.
Our matches often ended in a tie. But only because we pulled our punches and never seriously hurt each other. It felt good to fight with someone without sending them to the hospital, to have friendly matches.
Stephen roared and came in for another punch. I ducked, barely missing it, then jabbed him in the ribs. He grunted but didn’t recoil from the impact. We grappled, trying to throw each other off-balance.
But I was already off-balance. Had been for weeks. And not only in the cage. It had been a month since I’d sent that last text to Lila. Since I’d seen her. And she still dominated my thoughts, always in the background, luring me.
Stephen’s fist came in for a jab and caught me under the chin. My head snapped back at the impact, but I barely felt the pain. I didn’t feel pain anymore. Not after a lifetime of fights.
John whooped from outside the cage. “Good one, Stephen, go in strong. Hawk, protect your face.”
Always the diplomatic one, never choosing sides. Sometimes I felt John’s goal in life was to have everybody like him. The guy had enough charisma for the three of us. Good thing too because Stephen and I didn’t have any.
We continue to spar, but all I could think about was Lila. How was she doing? Was that sleaze bothering her? When would I see her?
I was always debating with myself if I should risk showing up at the clinic again. My war with the Devil’s Eyes MC was at a standstill, but it was far from over. It could last for months, for all I knew. I couldn’t risk her safety.
At least I had found the traitor in my organization if you could even call him that. Turned out my routes were leaked during pillow talk. Butch and Fiona had sent a whore to seduce my crew for information.
Fucking humiliating. A guy didn’t deserve to die for wanting to bury his dick in some chick, but I had no choice.
I still remembered the battle that had raged within me in that fateful moment, my hand trembling as I had held the gun to his head. The stench from his piss-soaked pants had permeated the dark, soundproof basement.
Kill him to survive.
Don’t kill him and save your humanity.
Chains rattled as he shifted his slumped body on the chair. “Do it, boss. I deserve it.”
“Why did you fucking blab?” I bellowed, desperate for an answer that would sway my decision. But all I was doing was stalling while I battled my inner demons, prolonging Jimmy’s pain and torment as he waited for his death.
Never spill any info to anyone. That was the rule. Don’t even talk about it with other members unless inside the safety of our building where no one could overhear. He knew the risks of yapping his tongue off to impress his lay.
“Sorry, boss.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, seeping into the open wounds, courtesy of my fists. “I was stupid. No excuses. I fucked up. I’ll take r-r-responsibility for my a-a-actions.”
No groveling for mercy.
No begging for a second chance.
He knew his life was over before I even made my decision. He was man enough to admit it, and he refused to go out like a coward. It was killing me to have to put an end to a man I respected.
“You knew the rules, man. One simple fucking rule. Keep your mouth shut.”
“I’m s-s-sorry.”
Christ, I wished Butch and Fiona had abducted, tortured, and drugged him for information instead. I could have forgiven that. That wouldn’t have been his fault.
