Hawke: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance (With bonus book Sons of Flame MC) (13 page)

Chapter 14

Jack

Valentino’s face screwed up like he was gonna shit. “So you are! I’m glad you could come. Kill ‘em both.”

In the cage, each round is five minutes. They let you go over, in case things are gettin’ real good, real bloody, but officially, it’s five five-minute rounds. Of course, the last one usually runs until someone goes down, if it gets that far.

I’d been doin’ it so long, my whole life ticked by in five minute chunks. If anyone was comin’, we had about five minutes until they showed up. Maybe a little more.

Quincy moved first. Too many people here for a gunfight, so he thought he’d tackle me straight away, get me on the ground for him and his buddies to kick my skull in. I fell for it the first time.

This time I dodged sideways, got a fistful of fancy suit in my good hand, and jerked him sideways. Quincy rolled into the crowd with a bellow, his huge bulk sending people scattering like rolling pins.

In the book, I had time to see Tatya struggling with Naomi, who’d clawed bright red streaks down the Russkie’s face. Get ‘em, baby! I wanted to tear the blond’s head off, but Matty-boy was almost on me. He was more careful than Quincy. A jab-feint, a quick dart to one side; he went for my knee.

I turned, met his shin with mine. I’d spent years hammerin’ my bones against stuff like heavy-bags and concrete. My leg won. I twisted my hips and planted my heel into Matty-boy’s hip and pushed. He stumbled, but wouldn’t be down for long.

Problem was, if the cops shows up and I was covered in blood, they’d take me in, too. Valentino would spout some kind of lie about how we were all involved in some drug deal gone wrong, or whatever, and I’d be with them behind bars. Especially if Desouza had a say. So I was on the defensive. I kept my eye on Naomi when I could, but Valentino had no beef with her now I was here.

Somebody grabbed me from behind. Agony crushed into my chest, my injured ribs screaming in pain. I pushed through it, sunk my hips and twisted, and Quincy came sailin’ over my head, upside down.

Then the right side of my vision went bright white, and all the noise from that side of the room switched off. Instead, there was just a high pitched whine. I staggered sideways, turned to get my good eye on Matty-boy, who looked real proud of himself.

He went for another cross. I caught it on my cast, turned on my heel, and pushed. Matty went flyin’ into the crowd, and they scattered back to let him fall. They cheered. Some of them even cheered my name, “Hawke, Hawke, Hawke!”

“Jack!”

I spun at the sound of Valentino’s voice, fists up and ready, and then froze.

Naomi had a bruise across her right cheek. She didn’t look scared; she looked furious. She was pullin’ at Valentino’s arm, which was stupid because he had a shiny pistol pressed against her temple.

“I’ll make this real easy,” Valentino said. “Lay down on your stomach, or I will paint this booth with sweet little Naomi’s brains.” His eyes were crazy. He’d do it. Get his hands dirty for once, just to make a point.

Maybe a minute left. Maybe less.

I could take a minute worth of beating.

Valentino would drop Naomi as soon as the police showed up. He had to, or he was goin’ away a long time.

I sank to my knees.

“Jack, no!” Naomi screamed at me. She reached back to claw at Valentino’s eyes.

“Naomi, stop!” I sighed, and shook my head. “I’ll be fine, baby. I’ve taken a worse beatin’ than this from you. It’s like Jason said. I got this comin’.” I tried to make those words, Jason and coming, clear to her. If all I had to do was take a few licks till then, I could do that.

Valentino gestured at the ground with the barrel of the pistol. The crowd around us had gone quiet. They kept their mouths shut, of course; nobody wanted to piss off Valentino, especially not when that crazy bastard was waving a gun around. I lowered myself to the floor. Breath, tense, count.

“Do it,” Valentino said.

I lost count and track of where the blows were comin’ from right away. My legs, my hip, my sides, my already cracked ribs. My head and arms. Somebody stomped me. I tried to meet each one the way I did in a fight when I was wearin’ a guy out—tense and release, twitch this way or that way, try to absorb some of the impact.

A shoe got me in the mouth and I tasted blood. Somebody got me in the back of the head and angled my face so my forehead took the impact when I hit the floor. It took forever. I wasn’t sure I’d make it until the police got there.

Sorry, Naomi. I tried. Shit.

I grunted as they beat me, and my body started to curl up on its own, some deeper animal instinct to survive takin’ over.

People started screaming.

“Metro PD! Hands up! Peter Valentino! Hands in the air!” I didn’t recognize the voice. My ears were ringin’, my head was poundin’, and my whole body hurt.

Even so, I smiled a bloody smile up at Valentino, and at Naomi, and started laughing.

EMTs came, and Jason put Valentino in cuffs. I didn’t see Naomi right away; the police split us up to get statements. Jason was all over Naomi when I saw her before they dragged me off. Eventually, though, he came to me.

“The fuck were you thinking?” he asked me when he got there, his cop mask slipping.

That got my hackles up, but I smoothed ‘em down. “She came lookin’ for me when I checked out,” I said. “I was gonna let her go, like you said. Good thing I didn’t. Valentino woulda took her fingers or worse if she didn’t talk, and she didn’t know nothin’ to talk about.”

He smoldered, arms folded over his chest, and stared me down like that would change somethin’. Jerk.

“So how did you end up here, then?”

I told him about the UVO, about gettin’ outta this life, goin’ somewhere else. For me and for Naomi, if she wanted to go—but that I was goin’ either way. I didn’t tell him that if she didn’t want to go with me I wasn’t sure I could do it.

“I let go, but she didn’t,” I finished. “Whaddya want from me, Desouza? I tried.”

His jaw muscles tensed, and his nostril twitched. But, he looked across the way at her, sighed, and turned back to me. “She’s stubborn,” he said. “She’s always been that way. She never listens to sense, and she’s a pain in the ass to deal with.”

“Sounds about right,” I agreed.

“She’s…” he swallowed hard, and shook his head slow. “She’s got the kind of heart without a bottom. The kind people take advantage of.” He eyed me on that count.

“I won’t do that,” I said. “Maybe I’m not good for her; maybe she’s not good for me. We gotta find out, though.”

Desouza stared me down, tryin’ to get me to crack or back out, maybe. I didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. Except when the EMT poked at my ribs.

“We should get you to the hospital,” he said. “Get these wrapped again. I can’t believe something’s not broken. Except your arm, I guess. Good thing you had that cast on already.” He was a little smart about it. I ignored it.

“I been in worse scrapes. I’ll be fine.”

“You should get medical attention,” Desouza said.

“I only took the ambulance ride before to get away from Valentino,” I told him. “I got more cracks in my bones than I got scars on my face. I’ll be fine.”

Desouza groaned, and then snorted a quiet laugh. “Jesus, you two might actually be perfect for each other.”

“Thanks, pal,” I muttered. “You want my statement, too?”

He shook his head. “Nah, once is enough.” He looked like he might leave me be, but he hesitated.

“What?” I asked.

“Just…” he glanced at Naomi again. She was watchin’ us. “Just take care of her. Keep her safe. If you don’t, I’ll come and find you. And her sister, too, and trust me—you don’t want to be on Nicola Ellis’ bad side. You think Naomi’s got a temper?” He blew out a breath, and looked genuinely haunted.

“I hear you, man,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’d die for her if I had to. I almost did. Woulda died happy if it meant she was safe.”

Desouza nodded at me and then, to my surprise, stuck his hand out. I shook it, and he left. Naomi was up, headed this way. She stopped to say something to Jason, and he took his hat off to rub the back of his head. Whatever they said, it looked like an apology. She hugged him, and then left him to come see to me.

“So,” she said. “Valentino. Kind of a douche.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, he gets that from… actually, you know, for a criminal his dad wasn’t so bad. Didn’t give enough hugs, apparently.”

Naomi giggled, a manic, nervous sound like she was still wound up tight.

I pulled her to me, and wrapped my arms around her, to hell with the pain of it. I pressed my nose to her hair and breathed her in. “Don’t ever do somethin’ like that again, lady,” I said. “You scared me to death. I ain’t used to it, not sure I can take it again.”

She buried her face in my shoulder, and started to cry. Sobs that shook her whole body against mine. So I squeezed her tighter, rubbed her back with my good hand, and let her get it out. It would be a long time till she could forget all this. I knew. I remembered my first time.

“Hey,” I said. “These clowns wanna take me to a hospital. They ain’t seen a guy like me before, I think. Why don’t you and me get outta here?”

“Sure,” she breathed as she straightened a little and cleared her eyes.

“Hey,” I said, “I saw you got the Russkie. Right in the face. Good girl.”

Naomi laughed, and nodded. “She was a bitch.”

“Yeah she was. You’re one badass chick, you know that?”

She grinned, and shrugged one shoulder. She punched me in mine, light, playful; all too aware of my injuries. “Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t. Let’s go home.”

“Where’s home?”

I watched her eyes. She was waiting for something; not an address. My lips curled up, and I gave her The Look. This time, it worked. “Maybe wherever you are, darlin’.”

Naomi bit her lip, took a long, shuddering breath, and then kissed me. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter 15

Naomi

Jack held my hand all the way back to my apartment, refusing to let go until we were safely inside.

Normally, when I brought someone new to my place, especially a man, I had an instinct to excuse the mess, my old furniture, and the generally ragged state of the place. I was in a perpetual state of just about to update everything. With Jack, though, it didn’t occur to me. I’d seen all of him, and he’d seen all of me, and what did it matter how untidy my place was?

Jack didn’t comment on anything as he came in after me. He just turned to me, pushed me against the wall and pressed his broken, almost certainly pain-wracked body against mine and kissed me. A long, deep, probing kiss; fiery, like before, but gentler, more tender, taut with the need for something more. I tasted blood from his lip but for the moment I didn’t care.

His kiss floated me up, washed away all the terror of the past twelve hours, and soothed the lingering sting of adrenaline that made my limbs shake the entire trip home. Now, I melted into blissful calm under his kiss. After another minute with his tongue in my mouth, and mine in his, and his teeth on my lips, and then my neck, I’d flown right past calm and into need.

But Jack was hurt. So I pushed him carefully away, nipping at his chin as I did. I looked up into his eyes, and saw that he’d probably just ignore whatever pain he was in if I wanted him to. I did. But, he needed seeing to. “Sit down on the couch, tough guy,” I muttered. “Let me get you cleaned up first.”

He grinned at me. “First? Then what?”

“Dinner before dessert,” I said, and pushed him a little.

Jack gasped, his face twisting in pain, and gripped his ribs.

I panicked. “Oh, God! Jack, I’m so sorry I—”

He was laughing, his shoulders shaking a little with it before it erupted out of him.

I punched him in the shoulder. “Jerk. Go. Sit. Wait.”

He did so obediently, and I fished an old first aid kit from my coat closet. I came to him, sat down next to him on my old couch, opened it up and got to work.

At least this time he’d fared better than his first encounter with the men. Just a few cuts, some swollen knuckles that didn’t seem broken, and a few new bruises. “I don’t know how you did that,” I murmured as I cleaned his cuts.

“Did what?” He asked, careful not to move his face too much when he did.

“Took out five guys. With guns. You’re a goddamn superhero or something.”

Jack just shrugged a little. “They weren’t fighters. Not really. Just thugs. They were afraid to die, or get hurt. I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?” I wondered. I’d been terrified just to see it.

“Not if it meant keeping you safe,” he said quietly.

I paused, watched his face a moment. He meant it. How, I didn’t know, but he did.

“You didn’t do so bad yourself,” he went on, smiling. “I saw what you did.”

“That?” I snorted, and shook my head. “That was just panic.”

“Still, if that guy’d gotten the jump on me, would’ve been a different story.” He winked at me. “We make a good team.”

“I hope that we won’t have to do that kind of team work again,” I said. I dabbed alcohol over the cut on his lower lip. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, at least.

He was quiet. I put the medical supplies away, and sat there on the couch for a long moment before he moved toward me again.

I sank back onto the couch, spreading my legs so that he was pressed against me between my thighs. He growled softly into my mouth as he kissed me again, this time hungrier, more intent. God, I wanted him inside me again, so much more than I had before. Then, it had been curiosity, adventure, a break in the mundanity of my existence.

Now, though, it was a hot ember of need that threatened to burn a hole in me. I clawed my fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, and started pulling at his shirt. He sat up and pulled it off for me, stretching his taut, sweat laden body before me as he did. I reached out and scratched my fingertips down his slick, hard abs, and he groaned when my fingers ended under the upper band of his jeans. I could already see him swelling under the fabric.

He looked down and watched my hands as I deftly unbuttoned and unzipped him with one hand. He didn’t have underwear on beneath them, and his cock sprang out, standing up proudly with its slight curve. I wrapped my fingers around the base of it and tugged up, watching Jack’s face for the flinch of pleasure that passed over his eyebrows.

He took my hand by the wrist, though, and pulled me up so that he could relieve me of my shirt. His thick fingers searched my back, found my bra strap and then with a quick motion it was loose.

Jack tossed both articles aside, and pushed me back again, kissing me first on my lips, then my neck and collar, and then between my breasts. His lips and tongue found my hard nipple and swirled around it and I arched my back and ground my hips against his hard erection, and let out an unselfconscious moan now that we were out of the stifling hospital room. Here, we could finally let loose, and I intended to.

His teeth nipped me, lightly at first, and then a little harder, the hint of pain mixing with his tongue’s flickering tickle just before he sucked, hard, and sent crackling waves of pleasure into my chest, up my neck, and down into my wet, quivering pussy. “Fuck me, Jack,” I moaned. “Please, fuck me again…”

He gave a growl around my nipple, and switched to the other one. On the way, he muttered, “Not yet.”

A plaintive cry of excitement bubbled up from my chest as he worked the other nipple. His fingers slid down my bare stomach, dug beneath my jeans, found my wet slit and aching clit and slipped inside me, his thumb palm massaging the hot little nub in slow, wide circles. I moaned, and clutched at his shoulders and shook from head to toe. My legs wrapped around his waist, holding on for dear life.

The two sensations fought for my attention and between them I was ripped apart and thrown into the hot wind of passion that had carried me up and away to some place I no longer recognized. “Jack,” I sighed, again and again between cries of pleasure. I struggled once, trying to take the reins from him, but he only held me down and kept his slow, agonizing pace.

“Kiss me,” I begged him. He let my nipple go, for now, and at least did as I asked this time. I could barely keep my mouth engaged, though, as he seemed intent on distracting me with his hand in my jeans.

“You like how I make you come, don’t you darlin’,” Jack muttered against my lips. “Those pipes make sounds like an angel, baby. Scream for me.”

He did something different below, his thumb flicking and massaging my clit as his fingers curled inside me and hit me just right so that I did scream, a long, loud, high pitched note, and I thought he meant to shove me over the edge into orgasm then and there.

Jack chuckled into my mouth and kept it up, pausing for seconds at a time, and then starting in again, never long enough to make me come but just long enough to make me lose my mind all over again.

“Baby, please,” I wailed, desperate to come, craving the feeling of him inside me again; it was this far out of my grasp.

He withdrew his hand, and left me heaving and sweating already, and sat up straight to work my pants down. This was it, I thought, finally he was going to give me what I wanted.

But the grin on his split lip was wicked, and promised mischief, not delivery. He tossed my jeans and panties aside, and scooped my thighs up in his arms as he leaned down.

He started at my inner thigh, but just above the knee, his lips brushing, his tongue licking; soft, slow kisses that trailed toward my lower lips with gut-wrenching patience. He traveled down one leg gradually, until I could feel his stubble against the mound of me, teasing his intentions with cruel promise.

I braced myself when he moved his head again, but he only smirked up at me, and started in on the other leg. By now, every touch of his mouth to my skin sent fiery bolts of lightning straight to the core of me, and I tugged my legs further open against his iron arms that held me in place with hardly any effort at all.

His lips trailed down as I watched him, my face screwed up with concentration and need, my breath caught in my chest, every muscle in my body tense as I gripped the couch with both hands and willed him to keep going.

He reached the top of my thigh, and locked his eyes on mine.

“Jack…” I whispered, trying to throw the full weight of my desire into my words.

Patiently, unconcerned with what I wanted—or, knowing what I wanted better than I did—he trailed his tongue carefully along the edges of my inner lips, avoiding the sensitive button above them intentionally. He even licked gently at the taut hood of it as he made his circuit up and around, exploring and teasing and driving me to just this side of insanity.

“Fuck, Jack; stop playing around,” I moaned, shivering with the building pressure inside.

He smiled, lowered his mouth to me, and flicked his tongue out to graze my clit, just once.

I gasped, and curled forward. Jack grumbled his avalanche chuckle, and did it again, and again I convulsed. “Please, Jack!” I howled, and grabbed handfuls of his hair. He didn’t seem to care that he was injured and if he didn’t then neither did I. Not with what he could do to me down there.

He buried me beneath his mouth, his eyes going lidded and lazy as his tongue scooped into me, rolled over my nub, lashed me like I’d done something wrong. I bucked against his face, and dug my fingers into his scalp, and suffered under his swirling, dipping tongue for what seemed like an eternity. Again, like before, he held me back from actually getting off; taking short pauses to kiss my inner thighs and bite the tender spot where my thigh met my pelvis.

He pushed one leg up, and draped it over his back to free his hand, so that his fingers could slip back inside me, seeking until they found my hot spot and massaged it in time with his tireless tongue. He sealed his lips around my clit and sucked, rubbing his tongue forward and backward over it inside the heat of his mouth, and growled around it, the vibrations bouncing around inside me where they urged that growing pressure up and up until my head was thrown back and I couldn’t see anything anymore. White stars flashed and danced behind my eyelids, and I stopped breathing as Jack’s urgency grew hungrier, faster, his fingers firmer inside, his growls constant and rolling and then hot ecstasy was rolling through me.

It hammered into my stomach, and my chest, and my brain and I was screaming, tears in my eyes, and then I was gripping handfuls of his short hair uselessly trying to pry him off as my ecstasy became white-hot and almost too much to endure.

“No, Jack, oh God, please no more… shit, Jack! Oh, God, baby stop!” But I was holding in my laughter. It had begun as soft bumps in my stomach that bubbled up and made me almost sob them out, but as he held me in place I began to howl with it, trying to kick my legs but helpless against his hard arms, pinned against the arm of the couch.

I squealed for long minutes while he drove me well beyond the brink of sanity, until I was babbling incoherently for him to stop, or keep going, or possibly I prayed to the Virgin Mary for intercession—I didn’t know what I was saying. I was lost somewhere between an orgasm that I vaguely remembered having and the vast jungle of sensation that now swamped my thoughts.

Finally, he let me go. Jack’s body slid up mine, and he pressed his moist lips to my slack ones, and I woke up as if from a dream to kiss him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and suffered another bout of laughter into his mouth. “You bastard,” I muttered. “Fuck, how do you do that to me?”

“Want more?” He asked softly, before my lip was caught between his teeth. “Could go all night.”

“All night,” I said. “Yeah. That. Please…”

The weight of him on top of me was comforting, and hot. Here, I was totally safe. Under him, I was in a fortress of muscle and strength where no one could get to me.

He grunted, and I felt his cock move between us. His eyes grew hot, and he nosed at my chin. “Could fuck you,” he breathed.

“Please, Jack,” I begged.

“Could get inside you, make you come for me again,” he went on. He wasn’t inside yet, but he was thrusting slow, his slick rod rubbing against my over-sensitive clit, spreading my lips just barely and teasing the nerves there.

“Fuck me, Jack,” I urged him. I started to reach down to get him inside.

But Jack braced himself on his elbow and caught my wrist. He pinned it over my head, and rolled his hips up and back, torturing me with the unfulfilled promise of what he planned to do to me. He nipped my lip with his teeth, searched my face for the signs of what he was doing to my body, and kissed my chin, my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids. “How did you get so deep inside me, baby?” he asked.

The irony wasn’t lost on me, but I looked up at him and spoke as honestly as I could. “I knew. When I saw you the first time, I knew you were… I don’t know, real. Your heart, Jack. It’s real. So many aren’t… I want…”

“What?” He urged. “What do you want from me, Naomi? Really? Other than…” he grinned, and drove himself against me again so that I bit my lip and moaned through clenched teeth.

“I want to start fresh,” I said. “For both of us. Somewhere else.”