Unbeloved (Undeniable #4)(9)
Using only the tip of my index finger, I gently brushed over the delicate silver chain until reaching the tiny silver heart that hung from it. “Mom” had been engraved in softly swirling letters in the center of the charm. It was beautiful, yet simple. It was perfect.
“You like it?” Christopher asked.
Clearing my throat, I set the box in my lap and reached forward, drawing my son into my arms. “I love it,” I whispered hoarsely.
As was typical at his age, our hug was short-lived, and after only seconds he was pulling away from me, his attention once again on his gifts.
Tucking my legs beneath me, I leaned comfortably against the large throw pillow beside me, content for the time being just to watch him enjoy his Christmas.
He might not appreciate it now, but someday he would look back and remember that his mom had always been there for him, was always armed with a hug and a smile. He would remember those times and in turn, he would smile.
Tegen hadn’t had that as a child, and after repeatedly disappointing my parents, neither had I. But Christopher always would. I would make sure of it.
Glancing over at the cell phone lying beside me, I felt my chest uncomfortably tighten as my anxiety returned. I just hoped he would be able to remember the same from his father.
Good God, why wouldn’t someone tell me what was going on?
? ? ?
It was early afternoon when my phone finally rang, the screen signaling that Tegen was calling.
“Mom,” she said softly, too softly. My daughter did not speak softly, not unless something was wrong.
Gripping my phone tightly, I swallowed back a wave of fear. “What’s wrong?” I whispered. “Where’s Hawk?”
“Mom,” she repeated. “This isn’t a secure line. You need to come home.”
Chapter Three
Two days earlier
With the highway stretched out in front of him and nothing but more highway behind him, James “Hawk” Young could finally breathe again.
Whatever craphole town he’d been holed up in for nearly a month now had early on begun to wear on him. So when Deuce had called and told him to get his ass to Vegas, he was more than happy to oblige and leave behind the obscenely clingy bartender he’d been trying to shake since day f*cking one. Young and hot didn’t necessarily make the ideal companion, and after a few rounds of sex, he’d been more than done with her.
But he was finally free of her, finally back on the road, the only place he’d ever felt he could just . . . breathe.
No, that was a lie. There been one other place, or rather one person, who’d given him that same feeling. Who’d taken away the stifling emptiness with just a simple f*cking smile.
It wasn’t the case anymore but way back when, when he still had the woman he loved within his reach, that damn smile . . . it was f*cking magic.
Usually when he was on the road this late at night, mostly empty aside from him and the occasional car, he would think about that smile, those eyes, that tiny little nose all covered in freckles. And for just a moment, the emptiness would begin to ease.
He’d think about his favorite memory, the one and only morning he’d ever been able to wake up beside her . . .
? ? ?
“Good morning,” Dorothy had said, stretching her body.
Hawk had already been awake, he was always up with the sun, and had spent the last two hours just staring down at her naked body, watching her sleep.
It had been the first time they’d ever spent the night together. Between taking care of her daughter and her ridiculous relationship with Jase, spending time together wasn’t an easy feat for Dorothy. But for once it was just the two of them; the clubhouse was empty. For the first time what he felt for her, how f*cking deep those feelings went, felt real.
“Did you hear me?” She laughed and he loved it. Just hearing her laugh. He f*cking loved it. “I said good morning.”
Instead of answering her, he pushed her over and onto her back, looking his fill at her tight little body covered in all that soft, creamy skin. Dorothy immediately tried to cover herself, but he pinned her arms down and quickly rolled on top of her.
Then he had tickled her.
And as she’d squirmed beneath him, howling with laughter, he’d whispered, “Good morning.”
? ? ?
Closing in on his destination, Hawk hit his blinker and turned his bike onto the exit headed for downtown Las Vegas. The memory evaporated and just as quickly the emptiness returned.
Another fifteen minutes later, he pulled up behind an old abandoned shipping warehouse. Hawk shut off his engine and glanced around anxiously at his old stomping grounds. It wasn’t that he disliked coming to Las Vegas; quite the opposite, actually. Whenever Deuce needed one of the boys to make a run to Sin City, he always volunteered. He might look very different from the kid he’d once been, and sound different, but Vegas would always feel like home.
Because technically Vegas was home, and he wasn’t truly who he’d spent the past two and a half decades pretending to be.
Yeah, he was a biker. Just another patch on a totem pole full of patched, leather-wearing bikers living as criminals, not for the money or even for enjoyment but because that was all they knew. It was how they survived, how they paid the bills and cared for their families. It wasn’t about greed or excess, it was about living a certain way, being a certain kind of man who didn’t have to bow down to laws and the government who enforced them. It was a brotherhood, a camaraderie. It was about really, truly living your life the way you wanted to live it.