It’s there, it has to be.
Chapter 2
Hawk
My stomach grumbles and I yawn, cruising down the freeway, heading to the clubhouse. Fuego, my club Prez and father-in-law, has called us into church. Last night was exactly what I needed. At first, I was fucking pissed off to find Alessia at the club party without me. She did text me to meet her there, but my temper came to the surface, seeing the smile on her face and those fucking shorts.
Alessia doesn’t need me. She has the club. Plenty of the brothers would take her from me. I hate it. Alessia is always off finding shit to get into. I never know what to expect next. Except that’s a lie. In my head, I believed she could be with another guy last night, even though I’m the only man that she has ever slept with. One day, she’ll leave me for good. Alessia has this fire inside. Eventually, it will ignite, and I’ll be left behind. I see it. My woman holds herself back and is ambitious. I doubt Alessia is still satisfied with me.
Alessia grew up here. Fuck, she’s more a part of the club than most of the men. She lives for this shit. I should be a grateful bastard. I have the hottest bitch, and she loves the club. I smile, though, thinking about the time when we met. Both of us were still in high school, and it was hot as fuck. She had a wild side then and still has it to this day.
I was a bad boy that was held back a year from graduating. My mom was at a loss with what the hell to do with me. She sent me to live with my uncle, thinking I would listen to him and not get into as much trouble. I was nineteen, but a senior in school still.
Those were the days. The older I get, the more our relationship has changed between us. I start to wonder if she loves me like I do her, if we are just different people now, but I can’t let her go. Last night, it showed me we still have a hot as fuck connection. Alessia fucked me all night long before we both passed out at home. I didn’t want to leave her alone in bed. I could have stayed curled up next to her all day. Then fucked her again all night. But, here I am, handling my shit. The Prez called us in early for church. On my way out, I gave her a kiss, then hit the road.
Church is the same old B.S. it usually is. We give our updates on our runs. The Prez is happy with our haul and sales of the last week. I’m about to leave when he grabs my attention and asks me to stay a minute. “What’s up?”
“I got a call from Jenn. Her little sister, Ashley, has a flat. After graduating college, she is coming home. Can you take your truck and trailer to haul her back?” Fuego requests. As much as I wish I could tell him no, I can’t. He’s the Prez, and Jenn is one of my woman’s best friends.
“Yeah.” I release a long breath. “Let me grab some food and coffee, then I’ll head out.” Pulling oxygen back into my lungs, I’m resigned to my fate. To go pick up this prissy girl and bring her into town. “I thought her sister and aunt hated us. You sure about this?”
Fuego smirks, “Their tía put a bunch of shit in her head when she was una niña, a little girl. Prove her wrong, sí?” He slaps me on the back and beats me out of the room. Following him, we find a line of men in the kitchen. The Prez’s mom flips tortillas on a cast iron griddle before spooning a brother’s plate with chorizo, eggs, and beans. Abuela shoos him along and motions for the next. Fuego, though, walks to the front of the line, and his mother stacks his plate high. “Gracias, Momma.” He places a quick kiss on top of the short woman’s head.
I wait my turn and watch the plates fill, and guys stick fives and tens in her mug by the stove, a tradition was started a long time ago. Even though Fuego pays her a salary to clean and take care of the place, we all tip her for the extra stuff she does. Like watching over the MC when we aren’t around. She’s the eyes and ears. If you fuck up, she’s the first to tell you and set it straight.
“Mijo, here is tu plato. Where is mi Alessia?” She questions and hands me the plate.
“She’s sleeping in.” I can’t help the grin that gives away why.
“Cochino,” Abuela scolds but smiles. “Mijo, you need to use a firm hand with her. Alessia gets away with too much.” She clucks at me and gives me her disapproving glare.
“You would think after six years of marriage, she would listen to me, but she hasn’t.” Shrugging my shoulders, I let it go. Alessia does what she wants, when she wants. There is no dousing that fire.
“Don’t, mijo. Be a man, and bring her some balance. Use those hands for other things . . .”
“Ma!” Fuego blurts, “Que acabas de decir? What in the fuck are you saying those things for? Es mi niña!” His scowl doing nothing to intimidate her. Instead, she plops food onto a plate and thrusts it with one hand while the other jabs at his face.
“She is my granddaughter, and someone needs to watch out for her,” she adamantly defends.
Their bickering gets louder
