Page 1 of Hawk

2yearsago

Mika

I ran into the bathroom and closed the door, twisting the lock. Not that it would do me any good if he really wanted in. I could still hear him out there ranting about the dinner I’d cooked. How was I supposed to know he hated meatloaf? I’d made it before, and he hadn’t complained. But apparently, today, it was the one food he hated, and I was somehow supposed to know that.

I slumped down on the cold tile with my back against the door, took in a shaky breath, and pulled my knees up to my chest, making myself as small as possible. It wasn’t about the meatloaf. If it hadn’t been that, it would’ve been something else. I could tell he’d had a bad day the second he walked through the door, and in that moment, I knew it wasn’t going to be a good night for me.

I closed my eyes and listened as he continued to rant about nobody showing him any respect. He’d let me leave the room, so I hoped that meant he was done with me. It could go either way.

The crunch of glass under his boots told me that he was pacing in the kitchen. He’d made a show of throwing the dishes that had been on the table against the wall before turning his rage on me. They weren’t anything special. We didn’t have anything that hadn’t been purchased at the local thrift store, but I’d done my best with what we had, and now they were all broken.

I clenched my eyes tight and held my breath each time those steps moved in my direction, like if I didn’t make a sound, maybe he would forget I was there. He’d been mad before—he’d even put his hands on me before—but there was something different in his eyes this time. Something that looked a lot like hatred.

I bit back a sob and prayed for this night to be over. That he would either get drunk and pass out in his chair or decide he’d rather take his frustration out on my body in a different way. Not that I wanted to have sex with him tonight, or ever again for that matter, but sex always seemed to calm him down.

I reached up and gently touched the swollen, tender area around my left eye. How the fuck was this my life? Butch had been such a sweetheart when I first met him. Okay, so he was a dick to everyone else, but he’d treated me like I was something special, at least at first. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that, I knew that had all been a deliberate act to get me away from my friends and family. And it’d worked. I’d climbed on the back of his bike and rode off, leaving everything and everyone behind. Little did I know I was riding into hell instead of riding off into the sunset.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

I jumped and sucked in a breath as his giant fists banged on the bathroom door, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into this nightmare.

“I’m going to The Hog for a beer and some decent company. By the time I get back, you’d better get this mess cleaned up. You hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you,” I forced out. He would consider silence disrespectful, and I didn’t want to rile him up any more than he already was. I stayed right where I was until the roar of his chopper let me know he was really leaving because no one else would dare start up hisHarley. I waited until the sound of the engine faded into the distance. Then I stood up and walked over to the mirror.

My face was swollen and already starting to bruise. His guys would get a kick out of that. I could hear them now.“Way to put your bitch in his place, Butch. That’ll teach him to show some respect.”

I placed my hands on the sides of the sink and leaned in close, staring into the sad eyes that looked back at me. The last time he’d gotten violent, I’d promised myself that if it ever happened again, I would leave. I knew he would never change because, as far as he was concerned, he had every right to treat me like this. That was the culture of the motorcycle club he rode with, and they all felt that way.

I shook my head and pushed back from the sink. Simple fact was, I had a decision to make. I could stay here until he killed me, or I could get out while I still could. It wouldn’t be easy. I couldn’t go home. Not that my parents wouldn’t welcome me back—they would—but he knew where they lived, and he wasn’t going to let me go that easily. As far as he was concerned, I was his property—I had the tattoo to prove it—and if he found me, there would be hell to pay.

I didn’t have any money of my own. Hell, I didn’t even have a bank account at this point, but I knew where he hid his stash, and it would be enough for me to get away from him and start over. I rushed into the bedroom and grabbed my backpack I’d hidden in the back of the closet. It didn’t have much in it, but I didn’t have time to pack anything else. Besides, I didn’t want anything that would remind me of the last six months anyway.

Butch kept the majority of his portion of the money from the club’s illegal activities in a metal box in a hole in the floor, but he also kept a smaller amount hidden in a coffee can in the kitchen cabinet. I wanted out, but I didn’t have a death wish, so there was no way I would touch the metal box. The smaller amount in the coffee can would have to do. I opened it up and pulled out the cash. Five thousand dollars. Okay, I could work with that. This was where he kept his beer and running-around money, so I really doubted he knew how much was in there. I took half and left the rest, hoping he wouldn’t realize I’d taken it.

I shoved it in the pocket of the backpack and snuck out the back door. I didn’t have a car, so I left on foot, keeping to the shadows and hoping no one would see me. I needed a quick, cheap way out of town, and the only thing I could think of was a bus. I’d never ridden one before, but I’d seen a bus station over on Walnut Street so that was where I was going.

It took me almost an hour to make my way there, and by the time I reached the station, I was a nervous wreck. Was Butch back at the house yet? Normally, he stayed out late when he went drinking with the guys, but that didn’t mean that was the case tonight. If he knew I was gone, he’d be looking for me, and if he found me, there was no telling what he would do.

An older woman with curly gray hair stood behind the ticket counter, looking tired, grumpy, and not at all happy about being at work. I waited my turn and then stepped up to the counter, glancing at her name tag. “Umm, excuse me, Marge. I need to get a ticket for the next bus out of town.”

She glanced up, looking annoyed, but her eyes widened when she saw my face, and her features softened. “Oh, sweetie, that looks like it hurts.”

I reached up, touched my cheek, and nodded.

“Okay then, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care, just wherever the next bus out of town is headed.”

She typed on her computer and then looked back up at me. “Well, the good news for you is there’s a bus leaving in fifteen minutes, as long as you don’t mind going east.”

I let out a relieved breath. “East is good.”

“Okay, how far do you want to go?”

I thought about that for a minute. I didn’t want to spend all the money that I’d taken from the can, but I wanted to get far enough away so he couldn’t easily find me. “How far will a hundred and forty get me?”

Her fingers clicked on the keys, and she said, “One thirty-eight will get you to El Paso.”

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