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“Well, somethin’ has you all unexpectedly fired up,” he says. “Near as I can tell, that’s the only thing that’s changed.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles to himself. “No? Then why are your cheeks all red, huh?” he counters, his voice low and suggestive as he leans close to me. “I bet your panties are all wet for him right now, aren’t they?”
“Shut up,” I respond. “You’re disgusting.”
It’s not that I’m all wet for Hawk. And—well—I am. But it’s not about that. It’s not just that he’s gorgeous, and exactly the kind of man I can someday see being the man who can take me out of this horror into a life I truly deserve. In the two seconds I saw Hawk looking at me, I got more emotion and humanity from someone than I have in years. We didn’t share a single word, but somehow I know that he’s a good man. There’s just something about him that makes me feel better. Maybe that’s where this surge of strength is coming from. I don’t know.
For once in his stupid life, Hammerhead is right. Hawk’s arrival is the only thing that’s changed in my world. So maybe it’s the feelings that have been surging through me ever since seeing him that have me suddenly standing up to Hammerhead. I don’t understand it, but I feel stronger, braver, and more capable because of Hawk. And I know it’s nothing that he did. It’s something that he inspired in me, something he represents: a bright ray of hope shining out of the darkness. Not that I’d ever share that with Hammerhead. If I told him that I’m hoping against hope that Hawk could take me out of here—and not to mention that I was just fingering myself to thoughts of him barely an hour ago—he would give me the beating of a lifetime.
“You want to fuck him, don’t you?” he says.
“You are disgusting. I don’t even know him.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck him.”
“Shut up, Martin,” I sneer. “You are foul.”
He leans closer to me, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re to stay away from him, Molly. You got that?” he hisses. “If I find you screwin’ around with him, I will kill you. And then I’ll kill him. You got that?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“You sure about that?”
“Unlike you, I usually only need to be told something once,” I spit.
He shakes his head. “You really do got a mouth on you, girl. It’s even kinda cute,” he says. “But you watch yourself. I’m givin’ you a pass right now but don’t mistake that kindness for weakness. It’s a one-time deal, girl. You step outta line again and we’re gonna have some problems. You got me?”
I look away, doing my best to hold my tongue. But there’s so much anger that’s built up inside of me that I want to lash out against him. I want to punch and kick him and make him bleed. I want to hurt him. Scare him. I want to make him feel every ounce of fear and every stitch of pain he’s caused me in all the time I’ve been trapped in this hellhole.
He turns and walks out of my room, doing his best to slam the door behind him. But since he’s already broken it, the door just bangs against the frame and rebounds, bouncing against the wall behind it. I rush to the door and close it, sliding the small piece of wood beneath it to keep it from opening again. After that, I walk back to my bed, and they finally give out beneath me, and I collapse. I don’t find any comfort in it, though. The mattress is so stiff it’s almost like falling on concrete.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, curling myself into a ball. I have no idea where that burst of anger came from, or whatever possessed me to talk back and slap him. Maybe it is the fact that Hawk is here and some small part of me is hoping that he’ll notice me. That he’ll take me out of here. Maybe I’m trying to prove something to myself. Or maybe I really have just had enough of Hammerhead’s shit.
Whatever the reason, I’m done being passive. I’m done being a wallflower. And I’m done letting him slap me around and doing nothing about it. I don’t know what caused it, but something has clicked and now I know there’s no going back. Something has imbued me with a strength that I’ve never had before and has made me willing to stand up. Made me willing to fight back.
It’s a mystery to me, where this strength and courage have come from, but I like the feeling it gives me. I like the rush of power filling me. And part of me is starting to seriously believe that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t going to be my life forever. For a long, long time, I’ve kept hope hidden away, locked tight like a tiny spark in the wilderness, but now I feel it spilling over. For the first time in too long, I allow myself to hope that I am going to find a way out from under his thumb and live the life I want to live. On my own terms. I like those thoughts and the feelings that come along with them.
I like them a lot.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Hawk came back the next morning, his face grim and full of purpose. I don’t think he even noticed me standing in the kitchen as he strode through the clubhouse. Hawk walked into Hammerhead’s office briskly, slamming the door behind him. I finish the bowl of cereal then quickly wash the bowl and put it away.
I stand in the kitchen for a moment, trying to decide what to do. My survival instinct tells me to go back to my room and wait for Hawk to leave before I come back out. If I hide out for a while, I’ll avoid another confrontation with Hammerhead. It would be the smart thing to do. On the other hand, if I do that, I won’t get a chance to see him. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to do anything about it.
I’m not going to have a conversation with Hawk or anything because that would just be inviting trouble. But I just… I just want to see him. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I hope to gain from it. It’s not like he’s going to take one look at me, throw me on the back of his bike, and ride off into the sunset with me. This isn’t like the book I’ve been reading lately—Homer’s Iliad. I’m not Helen of Troy and he’s not Paris. Hawk isn’t going to risk going to war with the Howlers just for me. This is real life and not some romance from ancient mythology.
Not that a war between the Kings and the Howlers would be anything like a war between the Greeks and the Trojans. Hammerhead’s club is falling apart. It’s in the same state of disarray and repair as the clubhouse as he is personally. Membership is down to a handful and all the guys are demoralized. Even Hogwild, though he’s so loyal he tries to hide it. But I can see it. If the Howlers were to go to war with the Kings, it would be over in a matter of minutes. But even that doesn’t mean Hawk would ever risk that. Not for me.
I guess I’m just curious about him. He’s a stranger here and yeah, he’s gorgeous, but there’s something more. I don’t know what it is but there’s something about him, something I gleaned in just that brief and silent moment we shared, that stirred something within me. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger, because he’s the first new face I’ve seen in about forever. Maybe I’m attaching more feeling to it than is warranted. I freely admit that. But I don’t think that’s all there is. I think there’s something deeper in play here. I just have no idea what that thing might be.
I quietly step out of the kitchen and walk down the short hallway to the office door. The clubhouse is silent. Nobody’s in, not even Hogwild. I gently press my ear to the door and listen. The voices are muffled through the wood, and I can’t make out exactly what they’re saying, but I can tell that Hawk clearly isn’t happy with Hammerhead. It sounds like he’s reading him the riot act, in fact. I can only imagine what Martin’s face must look like right now. It’s probably red. I can see it now. His bloodshot eyes are clenched in rage, his lips are twisted into a frown, and his nostrils are flaring—it’s how he always looks when he’s pissed off. And I’m sure being lectured by an outsider is definitely doing that.
The only words I can really make out are things like ‘cash’ and ‘shipment’ and ‘payment’. From the sound of it, it’s a lot of cash. It makes me wonder what kind of business deal they’re doing. Hammerhead doesn’t let me in on what sort of business the Howlers do, but I’m not naïve. I know what they’re doing is likely very illegal. Judging by the amount of drugs and guns that float around the place, I’m pretty sure that’s what they deal in. But as for specifics, I don’t have a clue. And I’d have to guess now that the Kings are involved with that sort of trade as well.
What I don’t understand is why some big-shot Vegas club like the Kings would be involved with a two-bit MC that’s falling apart. To be honest, most of the Howlers seem more interested in sampling the drugs they deal, rather than getting out and selling them. I don’t really know the intricacies of the business, but I have heard enough to put together that the Kings pay Hammerhead and the Howlers a good chunk of change. For what exactly, I’m not sure. But listening to Hawk and Hammerhead arguing behind that closed door, I’m assuming that the Kings might be tired of not getting a return on their investment. I mean, how can they be getting… anything, really?
