Page 21 of Hawk's Cry

Wizard bangs the gavel again and says sternly, “Now if the kids will shut up and behave, I’m asking if we need to discuss this—”

“No discussion,” Throttle interrupts. “We need a strong man in that seat. I second the motion.”

“Thirded,” Joker puts in, his eyes looking around. “There’s not going to be one person against this, Prez. I propose Drummer moves seats and we get on to discussing what else we need to.”

“Show of hands,” Prez says. “Who’s for Drummer moving into the VP seat?” As far as I can tell, the next question is unnecessary. “Anyone against? Okay. That’s settled. Drummer. Come up here.”

I do, realising I will indeed be getting some sewing practice in later tonight.

It’s a standard meeting with nothing particular to discuss. When it draws to a close, I step out and go to the bar, unsurprised to find Blade, Peg, Rock and Mouse waiting for me there.

“Wiz did good,” Peg tells me. “Need to show some strength from the top right now.”

I have to agree. Particularly as one omission is Wraith. He’d walked out fast when we’d exited church. Not, I’m certain, because he thinks the role should have reverted to him, but because he’s worried as fuck about his daughter. Since Eli and Olivia had left, Wraith’s been a man lost—one of his chicks is missing from his nest.

Chapter Eight

Eli…

For the first time in my life, I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Less pain, for a start, I predict and hope. Though my broken bones won’t heal for another few weeks, my bruises are already starting to fade. Amy came around last night, took the stitches out of the wound on my face, and seemed fairly happy with the way things were going.

Not that it hadn’t been awkward, it had. Wizard’s wife had come and left. It was clear she didn’t know what to say to me and was business-like in her approach—just a nurse with a patient. She had exchanged a few words with Liv, but their conversation was stilted, much left unsaid. Of course, she wouldn’t want to share how life was going on at the compound, and as there wasn’t much going on in ours, Liv had nothing to say. Then Amy had gone, and I was alone with my wife once again.

Physically, the reasons for not getting off my ass are receding. Mentally, I’m frozen in place. I keep telling myself my inability to think about what I want to do for the rest of my life is down to the injuries I received when I was beat out of the club. I suspect I’m lucky to be alive.

Had I not made plans as I’d expected them to kill me instead?

Possibly. Dead men have no future to plan for.

“Babe? You awake?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a sec,” I call back to Liv, knowing I need to get myself moving. I groan, though not this time so much from the pain, but from the effort of getting up to face the next day of my life.

If it wasn’t for Liv, I wouldn’t get out of bed. But she’s here, she’s my wife. She’s my reason for living.

Isn’t she?

Shaking my head to clear that train of thought, I have a quick shower trying not to catch sight of myself in the shower. Then, when I’ve removed the plastic bag covering my bandaged left hand, grab a pair of jeans out of a drawer, and pick up a t-shirt without caring or even looking to see which one it is.

Liv’s got breakfast ready to serve by the time I arrive in the kitchen. She’s plating up which means her back is turned toward me. I wonder why I’ve no reaction at seeing her ass as it moves in the way I used to find enticing when she stretches to lift a pan then puts it back. Is it still that my balls are sore? They seem to have gone back to their normal size. Could it be getting kicked in the ‘nads takes it out of a man? Or could it be that my wife just doesn’t make me feel horny anymore?

I’m a man. It doesn’t take much to get me hard, as my morning wood normally demonstrates. Except, even that hasn’t been putting in an appearance recently. Does Olivia simply not turn me on anymore, or is it worse? She turns me off. I realise I haven’t wanted her for weeks.

Christ. This is the woman I’m tied to for life. The woman who’s going to have my kid in just a few short months now.

Back at the club, surrounded by people, it was easier to hide my doubts that I still wanted her to be by my side forever. But now it’s just the two of us, I feel trapped, forced to confront things I’d hoped to be able to avoid.

“Here.” She turns and places a plate down in front of me, then smooths her hand over her stomach.

I force myself to think of someone else for a moment. Two someones actually. “How are you? Is the baby okay?”

“Fine.”

I frown, looking at just the one plate she’s placed down. “You not eating?”

“You overslept. I had something an hour ago.” She does, however, place her cup of decaf down, and takes the seat opposite me. “Eli, I’m getting concerned. You won’t use the money you got from your dad, which means we should both start looking for work.” She pauses, and her teeth worry her lip. “I know you need to heal a bit more, but you don’t need to physically go out to look for work. Why don’t you browse the internet to see what’s around?” She pulls her tablet toward her. “I’ve been looking myself and—”

“You’re not getting a job,” I growl. “Not in your condition.”

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