Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(123)

I let him hold me for a while, taking him in with as many senses as I could before one of my hands drifted out and my fingers skimmed the tattoo on his left shoulder.

“You never told me about this,” I said softly.

“Balance,” he stated immediately and I lifted my head to look at him.

“Balance?”

He nodded, his hand in my hair drifting to the side of my neck, taking my hair with it and his thumb moved out to stroke my jaw.

“Balance, baby,” he said softly. “Wind. Fire. Live free. Be wild. Raise hell. But stay safe. You don’t, the reaper’ll get you, one way or another.” He paused then finished, “That tat’s a reminder. Balance. Raise hell but stay safe.”

I nodded.

Then I lifted up a bit and put my sketch on the nightstand before turning back to Tack and sharing, “Honey, you know I’m going out with Elvira today. You don’t have a lot of time. You need to get down to business.”

Tack grinned. Then both his arms closed around me, he rolled me to my back, his mouth taking mine and he got down to business.

* * * * *

Gwen

Two hours later, Hawk and Gwen Delgado’s farmhouse, South Denver…

Standing at the sink in my countrified yet whimsical kitchen, I jumped as arms closed around me from behind and I felt lips on the skin behind my ear.

“You need to quit doing that,” I stated even though I hoped he wouldn’t, not ever.

I lost those lips, kind of. They moved to my ear.

“Doing what?”

I turned in Hawk’s arms and looked up at him. “Dematerializing and rematerializing without making a sound. I know you’re a superhero out there, honey, but in this house you’re just Cabe.”

“Babe, I walked through the door.”

“Right,” I muttered and he grinned, giving me the dimples.

Jeez. I freaking loved those dimples.

My thoughts left his dimples when he asked, “Wanna tell me what those four suitcases are in your office?”

“We’re going on vacation,” I told him something he already knew since he bought the first class tickets. Or, Elvira did, but he told her to do it.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “To a beach for two weeks. Two weeks on a beach does not equal four suitcases.”

“Yes it does,” I contradicted.

“Sweet Pea, you need bikinis and…” he paused then went on, “bikinis. That’s it. Bikinis don’t take up four suitcases.”

“You’re right, Hawk, I need bikinis and I have bikinis. Five of them. And each of them has its own matching pair of flip-flops and sarong and/or cover up as the case may be. And then we will eat and not just room service. And who knows where we’ll go? Casual. Fancy. Island chic. Plus –”

“Stop right there,” he cut me off. “I’ve lost interest in this conversation.”

“Fine. I’ll stop. Now are you going to quit giving me lip about suitcases?”

“Absolutely, if you promise you’ll never say the words ‘island chic’ to me again.”

I also loved it when he was funny in his commando way.

“Cross my heart,” I replied, sliding my arms around him.

“Excellent,” he muttered, dropped his head and touched his mouth to mine.

I further loved it when he touched his mouth to mine.

He was lifting his head when his phone rang. He let me go with one arm to pull out his phone. He looked at the display, took the call and put it to his ear.

“Talk to me,” he commanded.

Bossy and hot but more the latter than the former.

Something I also loved.

All thoughts of Hawk’s hotness flew from my brain when I felt his body go still and watched his face wipe clean.

“When?” he barked into the phone and my body went more still than his. “Chaos aware of this?” he asked sharply and my arms tightened around him. “Find out. And dig local. They moved in Kansas City, means they could be plannin’ a move in Denver.” He was silent a moment then, “Frequent updates, Jorge, yeah?”

Then he disconnected.

“What?” I whispered and his eyes came to me.

“I gotta get to the office, babe.”

My arms held tight and I repeated, “What?”

“Gwen,” one of his hands slid up my back into my hair, “baby, I need to get into the office.”

“Is Tack all right?” I pushed.

Hawk studied me briefly then did what he had to do because he knew I wouldn’t give up and if he made me the consequences would not be pretty.

“Tack and his boys offered protection to a local guy who got his shit mixed with some local bad guys. Made a deal with an MC in Kansas City to get this guy and his woman out of harm’s way while Chaos dealt with the local problem.”

“Tyra’s friend?” I guessed.

Hawk’s mouth got tight.

“Tyra’s friend,” I whispered then louder, “And?”

“The bad guys found them. Early this morning, Elliott Belova got dead and his woman is in surgery, not lookin’ good.”

My body locked.

Oh my God.

Oh my God!

“Hawk,” I breathed.

“Keep that shit to yourself for now, Sweet Pea. Serious. Do not call Tyra. Let me find out what the f**k’s goin’ on.”